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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Wendell stopped dead in his tracks, raising his hands.
Amy fell into the dirt not far beyond.
“Don’t move, asshole.” Mason stepped forward. Amy came into view. She was on the ground, skin scraped and cut after her escape from the Lullaby Killer.
“Dad,” she whined. “Stop him. Please stop him.”
“Yeah, Dad.” Wendell stepped closer, his evil grin illuminated in the moonlight. “Stop me.” It was an obvious taunt, and far too tempting.
Mason gripped the gun harder, trembling in the cold and eager to make a move. He stepped over a pile of dead leaves and looked around.
You have no idea how much I want to kill you.
“Shoot him, Dad!” Amy cried.
“He won’t, little girl. We don’t know why, but he won’t.” Wendell sidestepped, inclining his head a little to examine Mason’s expression. “Is it because of his moral code? Is that it? Or is it because his daughter is watching?”
“She’s seen worse things than you,” Mason spat through clenched teeth.
“I don’t doubt it. But I wager she’s never seen anything as interesting as me. Ain’t that right?” Wendell wouldn’t keep still, cowering only slightly at the sight of the gun. “I mean, look at this. It took you years to catch me, and now you finally have, you can’t even bring yourself to stop me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” There was something wrong. Mason could feel it. Was the killer really that confident he wouldn’t shoot? Would he shoot? The logical thing to do would be to bring him in for arrest. But there was something telling him he couldn’t. Something saying it would be his worst move. All the same, he could easily bluff it. “Do you know what they do to child killers in prison?”
“Oh, come on. You know as well as I do I’m not ever heading that way. Here you are, deciding whether to shoot me. But, we both know—” Wendell came closer and lowered his hands. “—that doing so would make you as bad as me. You’re not a killer, are you, Mr. Black?”
Mason knew his options. They were limited, but at least he had options. He glanced at Amy, who was hurt and frightened. The idea that anyone would make his daughter feel that way only enraged him with bloodlust. He looked back at Wendell, the Lullaby Killer who’d caused him so much trouble for all these years.
“No,” he said. “I’m far worse.”
Evie was in Bill’s car when she saw them. However, she felt both thrilled and disappointed at the same time. Seeing Mason was a relief, and laying eyes on Amy meant she could relax a little. But where the hell is Wendell?
Bill was first out the car, rushing straight to Mason while Evie ran to her niece, crouching to hold her close. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry.”
Amy hugged her back, sobbing into her shoulder as the cruel rain continued to fall.
“Evie.” Mason looked down and placed a hand on Amy’s back. “Can you take her to the car for me? I need to talk to Bill.”
“What? Where’s Wendell?”
Mason shook his head and swallowed. “He got away.”
While he and Bill talked among themselves, Evie carried a sobbing Amy to the car and sat cradling her to warm her up. The police and an ambulance were on their way, so they could give their statements and have their injuries taken care of.
But Evie couldn’t take her eyes off her brother.
What aren’t you telling me?
Mason was talking as Bill ran his fingers through his hair, looking as stressed as ever. They were obviously sharing a secret, and Evie wanted in. Frustrated, she would just have to wait.
Mason returned to the car, stroking Amy’s hair.
“Got away, huh?” Evie whispered, sighing.
“Yes.”
“Listen, you don’t have to tell me everything. You never have to say more than you feel comfortable with. But don’t ever lie to me. Understood?” Evie felt horrible for putting it so bluntly. Was she being paranoid? Everything they’d been through had certainly taught her to be cautious, if nothing else.
Mason lowered his head. “I’m not lying. In fact, I’ve decided to drop the case.”
“Drop it?” This is definitely not like him. “What the hell do you mean?”
“I have Amy back, although worse for wear. The only reason this happened is because I was getting too deep into things. I’ve spoken to Bill, and he’ll continue the investigation without me.”
“We’ll want the official statement,” Bill said from the driver’s side.
“Can we swing by in the morning?” Mason hoisted Amy from the car and carried her to the approaching ambulance.
“I don’t see why not.”
Evie climbed out and went with Mason, resigning to his terrible idea of giving up. Something was definitely off, whether he was willing to admit it or not. Maybe it was best if she never found out.
For now, however, she had a niece to take care of and a brother to support. In spite of his poor choice, Mason would still need her. And who was she to refuse?
Mason had no sooner got his daughter back than he had to hand her away again.
The doctors had seen to her cuts and near-broken finger, and she’d taken it like a champ. No whining, as might be expected from a thirteen-year-old. No moaning, or any signs of posttraumatic stress. In fact, she showed nothing but gratitude that she’d made it out of there alive.
It was more than Evie could have handled—she’d cringed at her own scrapes and gone home to rest after making sure everyone was okay.
Finally, it was just Mason and Amy, the loving father-daughter duo.
“You ready to go?” he asked, picking her up as if she was still five.
Amy nodded and wrapped her arms around him as he carried her out to the Mustang.
Mason messed with the keys. His hands were shaking like crazy, but he had no idea why. Probably just fatigue, he thought, and closed his fist tight and opened it again, easing the tension. Better. He started the engine, and the headlights lit up the dark.
“You’re never coming home, are you?” Amy asked as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot. It seemed as if she knew the answer but wanted to hear it from his own lips.
“I don’t think so.”
They soon arrived at the house, and Mason tried not to think about the divorce papers. Instead, he thought only about what to do next. Hunting down Marvin Wendell was sure as hell not on his list of priorities, but private investigating might still be an option.
Mason climbed out of the car and opened the door for Amy. He took her hand and helped her out of the car, then walked her toward the house.
“Wait.” Amy stopped, halfway up the driveway.
“What is it?”
“I want to live with you.”
Mason would have loved it, too, but it simply wasn’t possible. He kneeled, brushed the stray strands of hair over her ear, and looked her in the eye. “I don’t have anywhere to live yet, sweetheart. I’m still living with Bill.”
“What about when you’re ready?”
“Maybe.” It depends what the court decides, he thought but didn’t say.
Just then, the front door of the house sprang open and Sandra came running out. She was barefoot but didn’t care and almost knocked Amy off her feet as she grabbed her and encased her in a hug.
“I’m so sorry I let you go,” Sandra said, planting firm kisses on her cheek. She looked at Mason, grabbed his T-shirt, and pulled him close, holding him, too. “I’m so sorry.”
Mason wasn’t sure if she was repeating her apology to Amy, or offering a new one to him. Whoever it was for, he hugged her back, holding her close and knowing this was the last time he would ever see such affection from his wife.
Over her shoulder, he saw Joshua walking down the drive. He had his head down, but his eyes were up. When he stopped, he lowered his gaze to his feet. “I just wanted to say—”
“Shut up,” Mason barked. “You’re not a part of this.” God knew he wanted to hit
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