However, all readers - sooner or later - find for themselves a literary genre that is fundamentally different from all others. Missing by Adam Nicholls (top e book reader .TXT) đź“–
- Author: Adam Nicholls
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Book online «Missing by Adam Nicholls (top e book reader .TXT) 📖». Author Adam Nicholls
“Mason?” Bill called from somewhere behind him.
But Mason was in his zone, following what looked like a drag path. Deep grooves had been scraped into the mud, and he followed the trail into the trees until they stopped.
“What is it?” Bill asked, following him.
Something wasn’t right here, there was no doubt about it. Mason dropped to his knees and swiped away the clot of wet leaves, ignoring the dirt that was accumulating on his pant legs. As he made his fourth swipe, he felt something hard and knew what it was.
The face was barely uncovered before it emitted a sickening smell. Mason wiped off the last of the leaves to reveal a bloody, horrific mess. Flies buzzed in a swarm around him, lured in by the foul odor.
Mason dug his mouth into his sleeve and tried not to gag.
“Forensics!” Bill yelled, holding back his own bile. “We need forensics!”
“What about the man?” Mason asked as he rapped on Susan Chance’s front door. He dreaded having to tell her the devastating news, but at least his friend was at his side. “Who was he?”
“He’s still being identified,” Bill said. “You’ll know when I do.”
The door sprang open and Susan glanced at them both before waving them in. She was about to sit down but seemed to think better of it when Mason and Bill entered the room and offered a look of remorse.
“What’s… Is something wrong?” she asked.
“I’m so sorry,” Bill said.
Mason hadn’t heard him this upset since his own son had been taken.
“No.” Susan shook her head. She looked exactly as she had when Mason had last seen her, only her eyes had become red and sore, as if she’d been rubbing them. “No. You were supposed to help. You were supposed to save my little boy!”
No matter what we do, Mason thought, no matter how much we sacrifice to get the job done, we’re always the ones to blame.
Susan stepped forward and pushed Bill with surprising strength. Mason couldn’t help but wonder where that strength was when the man had pulled a gun on her and her son. He stepped forward and took her arms, guiding her into a nearby chair.
Bill retreated to the corner of the room, where he stood looking distraught.
“I’m so… We are so sorry, Mrs. Chance.” Mason had difficulty finding his words. “We did everything we could, but there… there just wasn’t enough time.”
“You failed,” she spat, staring at Bill. “I trusted you to help him, but you failed.”
“Now, that’s not fair. We’ve not even known about him for a whole day yet, and—”
Susan stood and shoved past Mason. She wasn’t quite strong enough to move him, but he stepped aside in time to allow her room. She went to the desk and opened a drawer, and for a moment Mason thought she was going to show them a picture of the boy, use it as emotional blackmail to try to undo the damage.
But when she turned with the revolver in her hand, everything changed.
Bill drew his own sidearm with lightning speed, aiming directly at her. “Drop it.”
Mason suddenly regretted having left his gun at home. He also had a spare pistol in the glove compartment, but he hadn’t thought he’d need it. It was strictly for emergencies. “Calm down, Mrs. Chance. That won’t help.”
Susan turned the gun from Mason to Bill. She was grinding her teeth, overwrought with rage and heartache. Mason understood her; she wanted someone to blame. She only wanted a reason why this happened.
“You…” She shifted it back to Mason, her cheeks reddening and tears filling her eyes.
“Drop the weapon now!” Bill yelled, ruining Mason’s attempt to calm her down. “I don’t want to shoot you, Mrs. Chance, but I’ll have no choice unless you drop the gun.”
There was a whirlwind in Susan’s eyes as she paused to consider her options. And then there was recognition, as she seemed to understand the only true way of ending her pain.
In the blink of an eye, she put the barrel of the gun in her mouth.
“Don’t—” Mason screamed, but his words were interrupted by the blast of the revolver and the spray of scarlet on the wall behind Susan Chance.
Evie climbed out of the cab and asked the driver to wait. She was looking at a rundown cesspool of a house, clearly suffering from a lack of attention. The windows were boarded, and the paint was flaking off. The smell also didn’t go unnoticed—something stale.
Trying not to breathe in too much of the stench, she approached the door and gave it a knock. She peered through the glass, but it appeared empty inside. No movement, no light; everything to suggest she should exercise caution.
“Can I help you?” a man said in a strong British accent from behind. It wasn’t the posh, stereotypical accent normally associated with England—more like a rough cockney.
Evie turned to look at the man, a lean guy with a shaved head and glasses. His mouth hung open with distaste, and his dentistry met the perceived cliché. “Hi. My name’s Evie Black. I’m looking for Charlie Richards.”
The man studied her for a moment. “What’s this about?”
“I want to talk to you about the disappearance of a young boy. Thomas Chance. He was one of your students?”
“Oh, ’ere we bloody go. Every time anything goes wrong in this bloody country, everyone looks to the immigrant. I swear to God, I’m gonna complain to the EFT about this.” The man moved quickly to the front door and fumbled his keys into the lock.
“Sir, can I just have a moment?” Evie asked in desperation.
“No.”
“Fine, then I’ll print some nasty stuff about you anyway.”
Charlie stopped then, a contemplative look on his face as he turned. “Journalist?”
“Of sorts.” Evie shrugged. “Look, Thomas Chance was abducted yesterday afternoon. We spoke to your employer, who said you’d phoned in sick. Where were you?”
A resigned sigh escaped his lips, and he stepped back onto the porch, looking nervously up and down the street. “I’ll tell you what I was doing, but I want your word that you won’t let any of this get out. If it does, I’ll lose my job.”
Evie had that feeling you sometimes get when you’re hungry and you catch a tantalizing whiff of hot food. It was a tedious longing. “I swear, it’s between you and me.”
“All right.” Charlie looked down at his feet. “I was with a woman.”
“I don’t understand. Why would that cost you your job?”
“She was… you know…”
Evie’s mouth hung open, and she shook her head. Why so evasive?
“She was… a hooker.”
“Oh.”
“But you promised. You swore you wouldn’t repeat this.”
“And I won’t. But how can I credit this? Do you have any proof?”
“I’m his proof, darling.” A new voice from somewhere behind them.
Evie turned to the source of the voice and saw a slender Asian woman approaching the house, looking down her nose at Evie and heading inside. She wore denim shorts and a low-cut top under an open jacket that let almost everything hang out. Whatever this woman was paid to perform, it wasn’t discretion.
“Miss Black, I don’t want you coming ’raand here again. You got it?” Charlie let the hooker inside and didn’t wait for an answer before slamming the door in Evie’s face.
With nobody to speak to and no more leads to follow, Evie headed back down the path toward the cab, mumbling “Goddamnit” under her breath.
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