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
“You’d let me go that easily?” He chuckled. “I’m disappointed.”
“If it gets my daughter out of harm’s way, sure.” Mason wondered about the future victims this guy would take. It felt wrong to be sacrificing himself for his daughter, thus letting the elusive Lullaby Killer carry on his nefarious business. “Makes sense, right?”
For a passing moment, Wendell lowered his eyes. It was like he was considering taking Mason’s advice. But then a light returned to his expression, and he stepped forward with the gun still trained on Mason. “I need you alive. At least, until that little girl has watched you suffer in agony before your death. After that, maybe I’ll give her a swift end. Then again, she seems as if she could take a little torture.” Wendell grinned and shoved him toward the door.
Against his better judgment, Mason climbed into the back of the RV, hoping—praying—that he’d be able to get Amy to safety. At any cost.
Although Bill was approaching, Evie needed to run. There was just no time to wait for him, no matter how much she needed his help.
Down at the bottom of the slope was the killer’s RV. Mason was climbing into it while Marvin Wendell took sanctuary behind the trigger of a gun. It wasn’t looking good for her brother or her niece, but she had to try to do something.
The slope was steep—too steep to make it down unscathed. But as Wendell was closing the side door of the RV, it looked as though timing was everything.
Bill finally caught her up, panting. “Shit, Evie! Where’s he taking him?”
Evie peered over the edge, judging her chances. She estimated an 80 percent chance of survival, but only a 2 percent chance of it not hurting like hell.
But I have to try.
Reluctant, she took a deep breath and stepped back.
“What’re you doing?” Bill asked, but there was no time to let him talk her out of it.
It was now or never.
Evie took a run-up and threw herself down the slope. She landed on her ass and shuffled her feet, trying to break her descent into a set of smaller falls. The main risk was that if her foot caught, she’d flip over, ending her crazy rescue attempt in a barreling mess of broken bones.
She picked up speed and caught a hazy blur of the killer climbing into the RV. Hopefully he wouldn’t see her, and if God was on her side, she would make it in time.
But as the rocks tore at her skin, flipping and rolling her, she heard the hum of the engine below her. The headlights came on, and she was nowhere even close to stopping him.
More debris caught her as she tumbled, tearing up her arms. She was vaguely aware of Bill calling after her. The idiot is going to give me away. Evie dug in her heel and managed to slow herself as she approached the bottom of the slope.
And then the RV moved.
No.
Evie was thrown chest-first into the dirt as she hit the bottom. Glancing up, she spotted the ladder on the back of the RV and stumbled forward, turning her combat roll into a dash. She was getting closer.
The RV was moving faster.
She was fifteen feet from reaching the ladder.
Ten feet.
Seven.
Five.
With everything she had left in the tank, Evie darted forward, planted her right foot down, and leapt as far as she could with an outstretched arm. It was a final, desperate grope for the ladder as it moved away.
Please slow down, she thought as it moved out of reach.
Mason felt the cold discomfort of the steel and wondered how many children had been kept here before meeting their grisly, premature end. How many had been locked away, scared and alone? How many of them knew they were going to die, and how many cried? The thoughts disgusted him as the RV traveled, with any luck, toward Amy.
Finally, a rough bump and a screeching grind of the gears. The engine died and a door slammed; then the side door was dragged open by a smiling Wendell.
Mason looked at the gun in his hand, glad it was pointed at him instead of Amy.
“Here it is, Mr. Black. Your final stop.”
Mason climbed out and a strong ocean breeze rushed at his face as violent rain thrashed against his skin in a flurry. In all his life, he’d never been so damn freezing.
“Dad!”
Desperately relieved to hear her voice, Mason looked around to where his daughter stood, twenty feet from the edge of the cliff. A thick rope was tied around her leg, and the other end trailed off into the trees. She looked far enough from the edge that she couldn’t slip and fall off the cliff. At least that went in their favor.
“Did he hurt you, honey?” He went for her, stopping short as the killer rocketed a punch into his gut. It winded him, sending him to his knees. He’s stronger than he looks. Mason wanted to hit back—to beat him black and blue—but Wendell was the man with the gun.
“One thing at a time,” Wendell told him through gritted teeth. He stepped back, keeping the gun aimed at Mason, and moved toward the trees. Once there, he untied the rope from the trunk, returned, and threw it at Mason. “Tie it around yourself.”
What exactly is he planning? “Why?”
Wendell took a quick step forward and pulled back the hammer of the gun. “Just do it.”
Mason tied a knot around his waist. With an idea of where this might be heading, he formed a secure loop around his thigh to protect his spine if he fell. “There. You happy? Now let my daughter go.”
“All in good time, Mr. Black.” He used the gun’s barrel to guide Mason to the edge of the cliff, where a strong gust of wind roared at them.
Mason approached and peered over at the drop. It was a hundred feet down, at least, with a rocky bottom. He couldn’t help but shiver. If this is what it takes, then so be it. But it was then that he noticed it—the one horrific detail that slotted everything into place.
The rope was taut.
“Dad.”
Mason turned to his daughter, who trembled from the cold. “Just stay there.”
“Don’t jump!” she cried, indicating the rope around her leg.
Wendell moved toward Mason, a smug grin crinkling his face. “Here,” he said, blocking the space between them, “we have a true test of strength. Tell me, how much do you weigh?”
Mason swallowed hard. “You son of a bitch.”
“Happy trails, Mr. Black.” He leapt forward and shot out both hands.
As Mason felt the shunt and tumbled backward off the cliff, he heard Amy screaming.
The rope tightened, and he plummeted toward the rocky base of the cliff.
Evie’s knees struck the ladder with numbing force.
“Shit,” she said, wincing as her feet slipped and struggled to get a good grip on the bottom rung. Fighting the pain, she raised her knees, wrapped a sweaty palm around the ladder, and pulled herself up.
It was a bumpy, uncomfortable ride to the cliff’s edge. The rain was picking up, and blasts of cold wind rushed at her, but she had to hold on for the sake of her family.
Before they arrived at the edge of the cliff, the engine was cut off and the killer got out, summoning Mason from the side door.
“Here it is, Mr. Black,” the killer said. “Your final stop.”
Evie lowered herself
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