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
“Everything,” Evie said, typing away. She brought up an opened email inbox, saw her name, and clicked into the messages. “It’s them. This was him.”
“Brahm?” Mason had expected as much. “Amelia is safe, right?”
Evie nodded and Mason approached the wall. Some of the pictures were disturbing, showing cut-up corpses. But others were more dignified. Some were of Mason, but not as he was now. They’d been taken back when he was with the SFPD, showing him walking away from the Lullaby Killer’s first crime scene. Mason recognized the look of torment on his own face. It was the day he’d lost faith in humanity.
“You look younger there,” Evie said, coming over to examine the pictures. She held her hand over her mouth in astonishment as she saw some of the more gruesome ones. “At least we know this Wendell guy is the killer.”
“Was there ever any doubt?”
“No, but now we know he’s not a copycat. Besides, this is concrete proof.”
Mason continued along the wall. Missy Daniels had been photographed a lot. There were no photos of the twins, which seemed strange. His attention was drawn to a young, blonde-haired girl sitting under a tree with her friends. “Who’s that?”
“That’s Amelia,” Evie said, alarmed.
“Wow.” Mason hadn’t seen her since she was a baby and hadn’t seen any photos since she’d turned seven. He often wondered what she would be like now, and whether she’d get along with Amy. “She’s beautiful.”
Evie gave a thin smile, wiped her eye, and moved on.
“My son has never done anything wrong,” Mrs. Wendell protested. “He’s a good boy. So what if he likes to take photographs? There’s no harm in that.”
“Your son is sick and demented,” Mason said, moving to a nearby refrigerator. “Now, shut up. I won’t tell you again.” Keen to uncover more of the man’s secrets, he opened the refrigerator door and stood back in shock.
It was like the air had been knocked from his chest.
“What is it?” Evie asked, coming to see for herself. When she saw it, she gagged and turned away, retching noisily.
“Evie,” Mason said, still horrified, his hate for Wendell doubling. He stared with disgust at the jar of severed fingers. “Call it in.”
Officers and the forensics team swarmed the house. Other bits and pieces had been found, trophies of the murdered children.
“You know,” Mason said, pulling Evie out of an officer’s way. The air was thick, and it was becoming tough to breathe inside. “If Amelia is safe, maybe you should get an exclusive on this. Give your career the kick start it needs.”
Evie sighed. “I do miss the lifestyle, but I don’t have the energy for it just yet.”
“Why not? You’re the first one on the scene. People will worship you.”
While Evie seemed to consider it, Captain Cox came into the room. “No,” she said, and had obviously been eavesdropping. “This doesn’t get out yet. We’re setting up an ambush team across the street.”
“You think he’ll be back?” Mason asked.
“Maybe. You’re welcome to stick around and find out.”
Mason looked around him. Mrs. Wendell was being escorted out in handcuffs and would probably be charged with obstruction of justice. The photographs and computer were being taken as evidence, for all the good it would do. There must have been a lot of personal attachment to this house, so maybe Marvin Wendell would come back. But Mason didn’t need to be there to see it—as much as he wanted to.
“Afraid not,” he said. “I have somewhere to be.” Nine o’clock was fast approaching, so he would soon be taking Amy to see that movie. He didn’t care if the film turned out to be a flop, as long as he got to spend time with his daughter.
“Can I get a ride?” Evie rubbed her eyes, the dark patches covered only for a second by her knuckles. “I need a drink. Or something.”
“Sure.” Mason led her out to the car, with every intention of leaving the crime scene behind him. But try as he might, it was unlikely he would shake the horrendous image of the finger jar from his mind.
Sandra brushed her hair as she stared at the reflection of Joshua in the mirror.
“I just don’t see why you had to let him in, is all,” Joshua complained.
“It is his house, you know.” Sandra slammed down the brush and went over to sit on the bed. She was fidgeting again, clearing things off the bedside table and rummaging through the drawers. It was mostly to delay joining him.
“Not for much longer,” Joshua said, his eyes not leaving his book on stamina increase.
This was the thing that got to her; although at first he’d just been her Pilates instructor, they’d become closer with each session. Sandra’s relationship to Mason had been on the rocks anyway, so why shouldn’t she have sought comfort in the arms of another? When their cheap little affair turned into something more emotional, she started learning more things about him. Some of those things were bad. For instance, he was a coward.
“You stole the man’s wife and moved in with his family,” she said matter-of-factly, slamming the drawer closed and joining him on the bed. “You have to expect some sort of reaction from him.”
Joshua made an incoherent noise. It seemed like he was about to say something, when a frantic pounding on the bedroom door silenced him.
“Mom, open up. Something’s wrong.”
Sandra clambered out of bed and rushed across the room, stealing a quick glance at the clock. They’d hoped to get an early night with Amy heading out to meet her father.
But that didn’t seem likely now.
When she opened the door, Amy looked like a frightened mess. Her skin was a ghostly white, and she shook as she whispered, “There’s someone at the window.”
Skeptical and worn-out, Sandra studied her. “What are you talking about?”
“My bedroom window. I was getting ready to see Dad and heard something outside. I went to the window, and there was a man—”
“For God’s sake, Amy. It’s dark outside. The mind plays all sorts of tricks on our eyes, especially when you’re looking at shadows.” Exhausted, Sandra closed the door on her. It seemed like one thing after the other tonight.
Who else wants to piss me off?
Convinced she wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight—she was far too angry for that—she climbed into bed, turned off her lamp, and did her best to ignore Joshua’s huffing judgment.
The minutes crawled by, and she was barely into a light sleep, when a high-pitched scream pierced the air. Sandra froze.
“What the…” Her words trailed off as she leapt out of bed and threw a robe around herself. Joshua was waking up too slow. Sandra wouldn’t wait for him.
She ran to Amy’s room, panicking that she’d dismissed her cries for help as she stumbled across the landing in the dark and pushed open Amy’s bedroom door.
A dark figure stood lurking in the black of the room. He wore a long coat, and his arm was hooked around Amy’s throat. The gun in his hand was aimed at Sandra, while her daughter kicked her legs out, struggling for breath.
“Mrs. Black,” the man said. The excitement in his voice rose the hairs on the back of her neck. “How nice to finally meet ya.” He threw his head back as he let out a laugh.
A chill ran up Sandra’s spine, and she involuntarily shivered as she understood who this man was and why he was here.
And that she probably wouldn’t survive the night.
The Lullaby Killer stared
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