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
It was barely sunrise, and Bill had practically dragged Mason to the police station on the basis that it was “an emergency.” Mason soon believed it, especially when he was shown into the viewers’ booth behind the interview room.
Susan Chance sat at the table, a perfectly average woman in most ways aside from being drenched and caked in mud and with nothing but a towel over her shoulders. Her makeup had run down her pale cheeks, and she looked a mess. Mason didn’t need a PhD in psychology to know the woman had been through hell and back.
“Can you tell us more about the photograph?” Bill asked her.
Mason studied her reaction through the glass: nothing short of horror.
“It was a black girl.” Susan sniffed. “Ten, maybe younger.”
“Can you please take a look at this picture?” Bill slid a photograph across the table.
Susan wiped her nose with a bare arm and took the photo.
“Is this the photograph that was clipped to his mirror?”
“Yes.” Susan’s eyes lit up in horror. “I mean no. It’s the same girl but a different photo. Who is she?”
“That’s Missy Daniels,” Bill told her in a soft voice, putting the photo aside. Mason knew exactly why he didn’t add, “and she was murdered two days ago.”
“What about the man?” Bill went on. He’d always been a very competent detective, his efforts only overshadowed by Mason’s accomplishments. And although Mason didn’t revel in the glory, neither did Bill Harvey hold it against him. In fact, he’d actually claimed to admire him.
“Only what I already told you. But…”
“Yes?”
“His hands…” Susan burst into floods of tears, unable to speak, and Mason could feel his heart breaking along with hers. With a daughter of his own, he could only imagine how utterly distraught she was.
“Please stay with me, Mrs. Chance. What about his hands?”
“Gloves,” she finally said, demonstrating with spread fingers. “He was wearing leather gloves.”
This seemed perfectly natural to Mason, even considering the time of year. If he were to kidnap somebody’s boy, he would probably wear gloves, too. In fact, he’d have taken every precaution possible to not get caught.
After the interview, Bill met Mason in the corridor. “What do you make of that?”
“It doesn’t sound like him,” Mason said. “He wouldn’t show his face like that.”
“Can you be sure?”
“Not really. But if it is him, the kid will show up in a couple of days.”
“That’ll be too late,” Bill said.
“No kidding.”
They moved to one side to allow other officers to hustle past them. “So, what do you think? Can you help us?”
Mason sighed. “I have conditions.”
“Shoot.”
“I want all the info as it comes in. As it comes in, and not a second later. I want immediate access to every crime scene, no evidence withheld. No exceptions.”
“All right. Is that it?” Bill sighed, satisfied.
“No. I want the police to stay out of my way. I’m working independently on this one.”
Bill paused and swallowed, then answered. “You got it. Thanks, Mason.”
Before they got the chance to shake on it, Captain Leanne Cox passed them, surrounded by a small team. She gave an approving nod. “Mr. Black,” she said. “Welcome back to the team.”
As Mason opened his mouth to stress he was working as an external party, she was already headed out the door.
Bill stood smiling at him. “Come on.”
The first thing Mason did was take a cab back to his office. If he was going to work the case, he would need a few things to get ahead.
He started with a clean suit and his PI badge. Next he opened the drawer to grab his gun but thought better of it. In the past, that thing had caused more trouble than it had solved, and he was in no state to be taking shots at people.
Just as he was grabbing his jacket to leave, Evie let herself into the building, walked over, and wrapped her arms around his hulking frame. “I heard about the fight. I’m so sorry.”
Mason stood without moving his arms. That had always been his way.
“Are you okay? Have you found someplace to stay?” she asked with the all-too-familiar tone of their mother.
“I’m fine. Bill’s putting me up for a while.”
“Great. That’s great. And the case?”
Mason stepped back and looked at her. “What exactly are you after?”
“What? I’m just asking if you’re working again. Cut me some slack.”
Mason sighed and shoved his arms into the jacket sleeves. “Yes, I’m working the case.”
“Fantastic! Let me help.”
“No, Evie. This is exactly what I was worried about.” Mason’s pulse quickened. “I know you hate it when I call you the press, but that’s what you are. That’s at least one of your interests in this, if not the biggest.”
Evie looked around and let out a breath. “I guess you’re right. But maybe we could help each other out.”
Mason snatched up the keys to his Mustang and switched off the office lights with a grunt. “How could you possibly help?”
“Think about it. I could help you by running whatever errands you need, and you can reward me with information. And I’ll only print what you give me permission to print.”
“It’s no good, Evie. I can’t allow that.” Mason opened the door and ushered her out.
“Well, what’s your plan, then?” Evie asked, talking fast as she usually did when desperate.
“Excuse me?”
“What’s your first step?”
Mason was speechless. He hadn’t actually formulated a plan, other than to go over the files one more time until something popped out.
“That’s what I thought,” Evie said, grinning. “But I just happen to know that Missy Daniels went to school with Tommy Chance.”
“The missing kid?”
Evie nodded, her expression smug.
“How’d you know about that?” This was exactly what pissed him off. He’d only known about the abduction for a couple of hours, and it’d been leaked to her already. If he was lucky, it wouldn’t be on her website yet.
“I have my ways. So, maybe we could check out the school together. What do you say?”
Mason held the door. I suppose a partner could be useful, he thought. As long as she doesn’t get herself hurt. “Fine. But you print nothing until I give you clearance. If I say jump, you ask how high. Got it?”
“Got it.” She hadn’t smiled this much in a long time.
Mason hated it. “Get in the car.”
The killer knew from experience that the longer he kept these kids, the more risk there was of being caught. That was why he’d planned his trip to the Muir Woods National Park beforehand. He had all the tools in his RV.
He followed the trail halfway up, with little Tommy Chance walking by his side, minus a finger. Cruel or not—he knew very well it was—there was something satisfying about snipping off the pinkie.
“Where are we going?” Tommy asked in a whimper.
“What’d I tell ya, boy? Shut up, or I’ll make it hurt.”
The heavy bag on his back was already giving him enough trouble. He had a large range of tools inside: hammer, chisel, pliers, and a whole bunch of other useful things.
When they reached a split in the path, the killer went straight on and through the trees, dragging the boy behind him. The torrential rain had created a treacherous trail, but there was enough decaying tree mulch to grip to.
After a steep ten-minute hike, they stopped.
“Right here.”
The boy was trembling as the Lullaby Killer dropped the bag, opened it up, removed a rope, and tossed it over.
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