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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“Exactly. The police can’t do anything for another day or so. Not officially. But an outside party should have no trouble. Want to have a word with the father?”
This was exactly the kind of information he’d been hoping to get. “Text me the address, will you? I’ll swing by shortly.”
“Will do.”
Mason thanked Frank for his time and left his card in case he remembered something. He barely realized he was running to his Mustang as he hopped in and tore down the road toward the home of the missing twins.
Nothing could have stopped Evie from checking in on her.
As soon as she’d seen her crossing the street, she’d followed as closely as possible. On numerous occasions she nearly lost her, so she picked up her speed to catch up.
When Amelia headed into the mall, Evie parked the car, went to the ground floor, and worked her way up. After a long and arduous search, she finally spotted her in the clothing department of a store, trying on shoes with a friend. Amelia had no idea what Evie looked like, so she was free to move around as much as she liked.
It was wonderful to see her again, as heartbreaking as it was. She wondered about the email and whether the sender had actually known where Amelia lived. He couldn’t, could he? And who is this anonymous emailer? The killer? Evie could dig around without difficulty, but she knew it came with a risk of putting the girl in danger.
Amelia left with her purchases and headed toward the food court, where she took a seat at the center table. This made it a lot easier for Evie to keep an eye on her from the railing on the floor above.
From out of nowhere, a nightmarish thought occurred to her.
Is the killer here now, watching us?
Evie looked all around. Everything seemed perfectly normal, but the killer had blended in for over three years, so he was damn good at staying discreet. Farther along the railing, one man stood looking down at the food court. It was tough to discern whether he was looking at Amelia or not. But when a woman crept up behind and showered him with kisses, Evie understood that the only thing he’d killed was time.
The phone rang in her pocket, snatching her attention.
“Yep.”
“Evie, it’s Mason. Where are you?”
“Just, you know, hanging around.”
“Well, head over to Southwell Terrace. There’s been a development.”
Evie had no idea how to say this, so she just blurted it. “I’m out.”
There was a pause on Mason’s end. Then, “What?”
“Yeah, I was thinking about it. I don’t think I have the energy to pursue this thing. But you don’t have to worry, I won’t publish any more news about it.”
“What the hell, Evie? You were hot for this case only yesterday.”
He sounded more pissed off than she’d ever heard him before, and she felt awful for letting him down like this. After all, she was his supporting shoulder throughout this difficult time in his life.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t do it.”
Downstairs, Amelia got up from her seat. Evie’s heart thumped until she saw that she was only going to the bathroom. “How are you doing, anyway? Have you heard any more from Sandra?”
“No. Enough of the small talk already. Are you in or not?”
“I’m…” It was impossible to help Mason find the killer and protect Amelia. The choice was never going to be easy. “I’m not.”
Mason sighed. “Fine,” he said, before the line went dead.
What am I supposed to do?
Mason hung up the phone and continued driving toward the twins’ house. He trawled through his memory, clawing away at the darkest corners to remember lullabies that included twins. Nothing sprang to mind.
He arrived at a huge and expensive-looking house that reminded him of his own home—or what had been his home, up until recently. Mason strode up the pathway and was met by a distraught man with obvious pain in his sunken brown eyes.
“I was led to understand Detective Harvey would make an appearance,” he said, looking at Mason with understandable suspicion.
“The police have rules, sir, and can’t get to you for another day or so. But Bill is a good friend of mine, and I assure you I’ll do everything I can.”
Although reluctant, the man introduced himself as Owen Carter and let Mason in. He zipped around the kitchen, hastily cleaning up. “I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m stir-crazy, you know?”
Mason could see exactly what he meant. It wasn’t uncommon to fidget when you were expecting bad news. “So, about the twins…”
“Detective Harvey said something about this Lullaby Killer I’ve been seeing in the news. Do you think it’s him? Do you think he’s responsible?”
“It’s hard to say at this point,” Mason explained. “It certainly follows the pattern, but we shouldn’t jump to any conclusions. For all we know, they just decided to run away from home for a while.”
“They just wouldn’t do that. They’re happy children. They… Do you think they’re alive, Mr. Black?” He looked as if he only wanted one answer, but Mason didn’t like to bullshit people if he could help it.
“I think they are at the moment, yes. But in these kinds of situations, we have to act fast. I take it you’ve not had any kind of note, or a ransom? Nothing like that?”
“No.” The man’s eyes widened. “Should I expect one?”
“I wouldn’t rule it out, but we don’t want to depend on it. If this is who we think it is, we don’t have long to act. The first thing I need you to do is start an appeal. Do you use social media? Facebook? Twitter?”
“I… Yeah, I use Twitter.” Owen finally stopped shuffling around.
“Good. Get a picture out as soon as possible. If either of your kids passes someone in the street, we’ve got to increase the chances of that person recognizing them. Got it?”
Owen went straight for his laptop, not wasting a second. It was obvious he just wanted his pain to end. To his right sat a framed picture of two kids—a boy and a girl of equal age.
“Is that them?”
Owen glanced over and nodded.
Mason picked up the frame and aimed his cell phone directly at the photo, taking a snapshot of his own. The girl especially caught his eye—she looked a little like Amy, only younger and with mouse-brown hair.
“Done,” Owen said. “What happens next?”
“Next, contact every blogger and independent press agent you can. Newspapers take too long, so stay local and get your plea viral. If we can get the abductor to realize you have money, there might be chance of a ransom—if there isn’t already.”
“Got it,” the man said, his voice croaky. He stood, staring at Mason. “I’m going to have a drink. Would you like one?”
“If it’s Jack or stronger, sure.”
While the man splashed alcohol into a couple of tumblers, Mason went on.
“I’m going to do everything I can to get your kids back. I assure you. Meanwhile…” He took the Jack and sipped it, the droolworthy scent lifting his senses. “Thanks. Meanwhile, keep up all the presswork. Here’s my card, should you need it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Black. Do you have kids?”
“I have a girl. She’s thirteen.”
Owen sipped his drink. “Be sure to take care of her. You’ll never realize just how much you love her until something happens.”
But Mason didn’t want to think about Amy right now. He needed to stay sharp, alcohol buzz and all. “Anyway, I’ll be in touch. You’ve got my number. Let me know if you hear anything.”
Mason downed his drink and left the Carters’ house with no expectation of anything, other than finding two more dead bodies accompanied by a gruesome message.
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