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
“This is where you’re going to die.”
The children trembled on the shadowy sands beneath the Golden Gate Bridge, with dusk setting in and icy roars blasting at their skin from across the bay. Even the Lullaby Killer was freezing his rocks off. He would have to make this quick.
He continued to dig, both frightened and excited at the possibility of getting caught with these kids. The last time had been such an intrusive interruption, but the payoff had been something sweet. He could still hear the thunk of the hammer as it crushed the man’s skull.
“What are… th-those for?” Ryan asked, pointing at the heavy craft scissors.
It was surprising to hear him speak up for once. It seemed he finally understood the danger of this scenario.
“Hehe.” The killer crooked his pinkie finger, then carried on scooping shovel-loads of sand across the beach.
Golden slumbers kiss your eyes, he thought. This one would be particularly special.
“You’re going to kill us, aren’t you?” little Kylie asked, trying to disguise her fear. It wasn’t working. “Is that your plan?”
Once again, the killer stopped digging, staring at her until he at last shook his head no. It was fun to see the relief in the twins’ eyes. They probably hoped to be home safe by this time tomorrow. He would put a stop to that. “See, all I’m going to do is bury you to your necks. It’s the tide that’s gonna kill you.”
The twins shook in fear, clutching each other’s hands as the killer howled with laughter. Although darkness was fast approaching, he could still make out their bloodshot eyes before he finished digging the first of the two holes.
“Our dad’ll kill you,” Kylie said, weeping. “He’ll find you and kill you.”
The killer uttered a callous chuckle and started on the second hole. “And how’s he gonna manage that? San Francisco’s finest have been looking for me for years. This is my city, little girl. Nobody can get in the way of my fun.”
“But he’s got money. He can hire anyone he needs to find you.” The girl sniffed as her brother squeezed her hand tighter.
Wait.
The killer paused.
No. No, no. He continued with the last of the sand, but with less enthusiasm than before. He couldn’t, could he? It ain’t about money, he told himself. It’s about curing America’s problem. But if I had the money…
“How much?”
Kylie wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “What?”
“How much money’s he got?”
She shrugged. “A lot, I guess. We have maids.”
The killer didn’t want to believe it, but they did seem to have been of a higher class than his usual choice. Sure, they attended a public school, but they spoke correctly and their posture was far too proper for normal kids of their age. But he couldn’t risk it. “Don’t make no difference.”
He raised the shovel and dug it deep into the sand. As he drove his foot onto it for more pressure, the girl must have seen her opportunity—or was consumed by desperation.
She leapt from where she’d been sitting, clawing at the sand as she scrambled to her feet and blazed up the shore into the distance, screaming in high-pitched wails.
If anyone heard them, it would all be over.
“Get back here!” The killer took off after her, pausing only briefly to tell Ryan he’d gut him if he moved. He hadn’t run like this in a long time but was still fast enough to gain some distance before they reached the rundown neighborhood.
Kylie dived out of sight behind a small white-paneled church. The killer had to stop. If he went any farther, he risked the boy running off, too. Turning, he could see him in the distance. Maybe he could head off just a little, but…
But then you’d lose them both, stupid.
“Fuck! Shit!” he yelled, then marched back toward Ryan and the two empty graves.
It was something Mr. Carter had said about his daughter: You be sure to take care of her.
And how could he not? Paying no mind to the incoming calls from Bill, Mason sped the Mustang toward his house. Even if he couldn’t patch things up completely with Sandra, there was still hope he could repair some bridges.
What about Joshua? queried the voice in his head as he shifted into fifth. It was as though a ten-ton block was tied to his heart. Could he really forgive her? Even if he tried his damndest, could he really remove the image of somebody else touching his wife with such intimacy? Every second he spent wondering convinced him he could not.
But he had to try.
When he arrived, the front door was open and Sandra was leaving. Mason left his car and went to her, just as she was about to open her own car door.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her teeth grinding.
“I just wanted to talk.” Mason raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Well, now’s not a good time. I have to collect Amy from school.” Sandra opened the door and threw in her purse. She was about to climb in when Mason held the door open.
“How about after? We could go somewhere for dinner. My treat.”
“Joshua’s taking us out.” Sandra got in the car.
He could see it now: the straightened black hair, the polished nails, the not-too-revealing top, which was just provocative enough to be suggestive. “Right, Joshua.”
“Excuse me.” Sandra tried to pull the door shut, but he held it firmly.
“He’s back,” Mason blurted, but he was no longer talking about Joshua. He waited for a reaction while Sandra sat staring through the windshield. He knew that look—she was assessing her options.
And then she stared up at him.
“You’re sure?”
Mason nodded. “I want you to take extra care around Amy, you hear? Whatever feud exists between you and me, don’t forget about her safety.”
Sandra rolled her eyes. “I know how to take care of my daughter.”
Our daughter, Mason thought, but saying it aloud would only raise a rattlesnake.
“I have to go.” Sandra tried once more to close the door.
“Where did we go wrong?” Mason hated to put himself out there so desperately, but everything had happened so fast. Even if she’d doubted their marriage for years, surely it’d been her responsibility to tell him. Now, here he was, begging for some kind of explanation while his wife ran into the arms of some other guy.
“You went wrong the moment you put your work before your family.”
“That was two years ago. I left the force for you. In the middle of a case, no less.”
“And now what’re you doing with your time?”
It stung enough that he let go of the door and watched her pull out of the drive. Mason simply could not understand what he’d done wrong. Sure, he could admit to putting in too much overtime at the office, but was it not for a good cause? Or had she been looking for a reason to move on to someone new anyway?
For the next hour he sat in his car, ignoring further calls from Bill and thinking of the woman he’d just spoken to, who now seemed nothing more than a stranger.
Can’t you see I was trying to do some good? To catch a killer?
Fueled by a confusing mix of hurt and anger, he slid the keys in the ignition and the car roared to life. At least he could head to Bill’s house now, lock himself in the spare bedroom, and welcome nurture from a bottle of something strong.
The press swarmed him as he arrived at Bill’s house.
All over the drive and across the lawn, reporters surrounded his car like hungry puppies begging to their master. Mason could barely get out of the car, and when he did, the same problem kept him from the front door.
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