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
But there were four who did not obey.
The Lullaby Killer watched them from the RV. One was a blonde girl with a face like a pissed-off supermodel and who clearly thought the world of herself. She was playing into the arms of a freckled redheaded boy, who was making sudden aggressive movements to scare the two children they had pinned against the wall. The bullied kids looked terrified, a boy and a girl, too similar in looks to only be friends. Siblings? mused the killer. Twins, perhaps?
Only one way to find out.
He climbed out of the RV and looked around, making sure he wasn’t seen. When the coast was clear, he crossed the road and stormed toward the redheaded boy and his bitchy friend. “Get the hell away from my kids.”
The expressions on the twins’ faces—he could see now they were definitely twins—were amusing. It was confusion at first, blended with gratitude when they realized what was happening.
The blonde, going red in the face, spoke first. “They stole my money. They owe us.”
“We didn’t! I swear!” the twin boy protested.
“Liar!”
“All of you, shut up right now.” The killer was under pressure. He needed a quick solution before he got caught here. He leaned over, put his hands on his knees, and beckoned the two bullies with his finger.
They inched closer.
“Get the fuck out of here,” the killer whispered. “If I see you again, I’m going to break your stupid little legs.” He pulled back his fist as if to throw a punch, which made them both jolt back before sprinting into the school without looking behind them.
“Whoa.” The twins were laughing, their eyes wide.
“You’re welcome,” the Lullaby Killer said. “If I were you I’d stay away from those two.”
“We can’t help it,” the girl told him. She looked smarter than the boy, which could become a problem at some stage. “We’re in the same class.”
“Yeah, we have to spend all day with them!” The boy seemed less with it, but still not stupid. Maybe he just led with his emotions too much, whether that was panic, fear, or excitement.
The killer could use that against him later.
“Why don’t you take off?”
Their mouths hung open again.
“You mean leave school?” the girl asked. “Our dad would find out.”
“I don’t think so.” The killer glanced around, itching to leave. “You’ll be back before they know you’ve gone. Come on, let’s go have some fun. Give me your hands.”
They stood still for a long moment, looking at his outstretched palms and the gloves that covered them. They glanced at each other and then back at the killer.
Then they each took a hand.
The killer turned and led them toward the RV, confident it had all gone unnoticed.
This is going to be fun.
He’d parked under a bridge, away from the incoming drizzle, and, more importantly, away from human interaction. Nobody could disturb what he was about to do.
The back of the RV was a tin box made of steel he’d found on the scrap heap, and put together by a friend of a friend. The children didn’t have to know it was soundproof, although they would’ve gotten a kick out of that.
“I’ve never had so much candy,” said Ryan, the twin brother. “Not even at Christmas!”
“That’s why Dad says not to have too much. You get all goofy like you are now.” The girl, Kylie, rolled her eyes.
The killer sat under one of the four dim bulbs, snacking on the snowballs they’d picked up at the corner store an hour earlier.
Is this what they call grooming? He hoped not. He didn’t want people to think he was having sex with children. The thought repulsed him, actually. All he wanted was to hurt them. The more tears, the better, but to actually touch them sexually repulsed him.
“I want to do something,” Ryan said. “Can we do something? Can we play a game?”
The killer smiled a killer smile. “How about Truth or Dare?”
“That’s a kid’s game,” Kylie said, as if she were any older than nine.
“Not the way I play it.” The killer pulled out a bottle of vodka—a cheap bottle, but it would make no difference to them. “You tell a lie or don’t perform the dare, you have to take a sip of this. It burns, but it will make you nice and drunk.”
“I’m not touching that,” Kylie said.
“Sheeeeeee’s a chicken!” Ryan laughed while pointing.
The killer chuckled, too, knowing it might encourage her.
“Fine,” she said. “Whatever.” She folded her arms like a frustrated grump. “But I’ll start. Truth or dare?”
The killer was on the spot, but he didn’t mind. He would lie anyway, and they’d have no sure way of knowing. “Truth.”
“Why do you wear those gloves?”
“I have bad skin,” he lied, although the answer seemed to satisfy her. He turned to his right. “Ryan, truth or dare?”
“Truth!” He was far too giddy. It was hard to tell if he wanted the vodka or not.
“All right. Do you love your dad?”
“No!”
“Your sister?”
“Yuck!” He laughed. “No.”
“That’s not what you said in my birthday card,” Kylie said, grinning at last.
The killer handed him the vodka, forcing back a smirk. “You know the rules.”
Ryan took the bottle in both hands, judging how fast it might come out. It was like watching a puppy playing with a new toy. Ignoring Kylie’s protests, he took a sip, spitting it out and coughing. “Disgusting!”
The killer took the bottle. “Yep, but it’s for men, not boys.”
“Your turn,” Ryan gasped, turning to his sister. “Truth or—”
“Dare.”
The boy was taken aback. “Okay, I dare you…” His eyes wandered around the back of the RV. “To take two sips of vodka! So either way, you lose, haha!”
In his mind, the killer praised the boy’s intellect. He was smarter than his sister let him believe, and far cleverer than he’d first thought. It was probably Kylie’s need to stand out from the crowd that gave the impression of more intelligence.
The killer would remember that when he crafted his next crime scene.
Making her decision, Kylie took the bottle and had only one sip before sliding it back to the middle, taking it easier than her brother had. “I want to go, now. I’m not comfortable with this.”
“You’ll go when I say you can go,” the killer told her, forgetting his friendly smile. Recovering, he said, “I mean, we’ll go soon. It’s your turn, Kylie.”
The fear in her eyes was not to be ignored. She hesitated, then said, “Truth or dare?”
“I’m going to take a dare this time.” So I won’t have to lie to you, little girl.
“I dare you to take us home.”
“No, Kylie!” her brother shouted. “I don’t want to go yet.”
“It’s okay, Ryan.” The killer studied his options. Would he have to make his move now? He leaned forward, took the bottle, and downed a large gulp. It was easier than saying no, and the girl had trouble finding her voice. “Ryan, my man. Truth or dare?”
Light-headed from the vodka, the boy’s eyes were roving all over the place. “Dare.”
“I dare you to hit your sister.”
“What? No!” Kylie got to her knees. “That’s not fair.”
“Ryan?” the killer demanded.
The boy crawled across the floor and gave a playful slap to the girl’s arm, but it was still hard enough for her to wince. He shuffled back to his corner of the RV.
“Come on, boy. A little harder.”
“We won’t—”
“Shut up right now!” the killer yelled at her, losing his patience with the little brat. “Ryan, give her a real punch, will ya?”
Kylie was shaking as her brother approached her. She must have understood the threat of the situation a little more than he did, and that worked in his favor. His knuckles clunked across her skull with a beautiful thumping sound.
Kylie held her head. A tear brewed in her eye as she complained. “Please, take us home now. I don’t want to be here.”
The killer appraised the tears filling her eyes above reddening cheeks. “Tell you what—one more go and I’ll drive you back to school. But this time, I want to ask you, Kylie… truth or dare?”
The girl was taking care with her answer.
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