Mimicry, page 10
It made him want to question their friendship, but there was no time for that.
“I’ll live,” Mason told him. “How’s the investigation on the twins?”
“Hard to say at this point. They’ve both been identified, but it’s too late for them.”
“No shit.”
“I’ll do some digging into their backgrounds, but I doubt there’s anything to find.”
“You think they were chosen at random?”
“You don’t?”
Mason shrugged. He wasn’t sure what to think. The more he learned about this new spree of murders, the more he felt like all of this was for him. The more innocent people who were killed just like in the past, the more he believed this truly was Marvin Wendell. It just kept bugging him that he couldn’t see the man’s face. It was always inconveniently shadowed.
“All right, I’ll be inside if you need me.”
Bill left abruptly and turned back toward the motel, drawing the attention of some officers on the scene. Mason watched him leave, doing all he could to steady his breathing. It was tough not to dwell on the current situation they were in—which was to say that they were up shit creek—but they had to start thinking ahead. Not like last time, but actually thinking ahead.
It took a few minutes, but Mason finally felt able to pick his concerns back up. He found Bill inside, asked for a moment alone with him, and was then taken back outside the motel. They found a quiet spot away from the noise.
“How well do you remember the past?” he asked.
“Not as much as you,” Bill said.
“This was a pattern. It’s slightly different to what happened back then, but I’m trying to think of the differences. Does anything stand out? Does anything seem too similar or even too different? Think, and think hard.”
Bill touched his chin as if to emphasize his concentration. It took a few long, miserable seconds, but then he finally gave a surrendering motion with his hand. “All I’ve got is that the previous victim was shot. This lady was just hanged.”
“So what does that tell us?”
“That he doesn’t care much for the presentation?”
“Nah.”
“Then we should think about what happens next.”
Mason nodded. His friend was right. The Lullaby Killer was moving way too fast. If they started focusing too much on this particular murder, he would surely miss whatever was bound to happen next. Mason tried his best to remember what that was. When it dawned on him, icy fear seized his every muscle.
“You okay?” Bill asked.
“Not really.”
“What is it? You’ve gone sheet white.”
“It was Amy,” Mason said as sheer terror made him feel weightless. It took real effort to talk between his shallow, panicky breaths. “Next, he took Amy.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Mason returned to his car, extending his hand to wave goodbye to Bill. They had made the best decision they could with the poor scraps of detail they had. Bill would remain working the case, while Mason did the rounds to make sure everyone was safe.
It began with a voicemail: “Hey, Evie. I want you to know that Wendell is getting closer and closer to the end. Whatever his big finale is, he needs someone I care about in order to move forward. I’ve only got one pair of eyes, so keep Amelia close, and don’t open the door to anyone. Be careful.”
Mason hung up the phone, wondering just how concerned he should be that she hadn’t answered. The only real comfort was that he had seen her drive away from the crime scene only a few short minutes ago. He doubted much could have happened between then and now.
The next on his list—positioned so only because her home was in close proximity to his current location—was Kylie. Mason raced the Mustang toward her house, the warm midday sun working with his sheer panic to force sweat from every pore. It was less than ten minutes to the property, but the drive over there felt like hours. When he finally got there, he immediately noticed something that threw out whatever confidence he’d had left.
The police were no longer watching the house.
Mason padded up the porch steps and pounded on the door. It was Mrs. Stanford who opened it up to him, a worried expression on her aging face. She stared at him as if she awaited some massively impactful news. That, he knew, could come later.
“Is Kylie in?” he asked.
“I’ll get her.”
Mrs. Stanford disappeared, and Kylie appeared in her place moments later. She was wearing her pajamas under an open robe, her hair a mess of tangled clumps. When she saw him standing there, she pulled the robe together and pinned it with folded arms.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“The police are gone,” Mason said bluntly.
“Yeah, they left this morning.”
“Did they say why?”
“Nope.”
Mason had an idea as to why they’d abandoned their post; resources were always scarce for the San Francisco Police Department, and they had spent enough time watching the house. It was understandable, but it pissed him off that he hadn’t even been warned.
“Do you want a drink?” Kylie asked. “You look kind of pale.”
“I’m fine. It’s just…”
“Just…?”
Mason heaved a sigh. “Wendell has struck again. There are two new bodies to add to his growing list. They were twins, like…” You and Ryan, he struggled to keep to himself. “If he’s following his pattern, and it looks like he is, someone’s about to disappear for a long—”
It happened so fast. His calm but concerned mood quickly turned into one of unimaginable discomfort. His vision began to distort. His lack of balance almost made him topple. The stress was getting too much for his old heart. He felt hands reach out to steady him, and he held on tight while anxiety ripped through him like an unstoppable force.
It took everything he had not to pass out.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
The Lullaby Killer was pulling out all the stops. Everything he had done was leading to this, and he quickly found himself completely elated. All of his concerns over the passing weeks were a thing of the past. All the times Mason Black had stood in his way were about to come back to bite him on his old ass. It was time for the big payoff… almost.
He parked the RV close to the house but out of sight. Frankly, he was surprised to see there were no police cars nearby. No sign of Mason, his cop friend, and not even so much as a concerned neighbor keeping a cautious eye over the nearby fence.
This made it very easy for him.
The killer strode toward the end of the driveway. It wasn’t empty, but there was no Mustang. A good sign, if there ever was one. It made him grin uncontrollably, and he tried to cover it with a gloved hand. There was next to nothing stopping him from taking what he wanted, despite it being broad daylight. This sure was one of his more ballsy moves.
Unprepared to waste another second enjoying this, the killer made his way up the drive and pressed the doorbell. He heard it buzz, but he kept his finger on it. Impatience was getting the better of him yet again, but he didn’t want to scare her off. He released the hard press on the doorbell and waited. Waited…
What if nobody is home?
No, he couldn’t let thoughts like that in. There was always an opportunity to break in and do whatever he wanted to do. But his primary plan—the one that had led him to this particular house in the first place—was to take. Not to leave. Besides, whatever he did inside that house would only serve to make the private dick more cautious. It wasn’t something he could afford. Not while so much violent fun hung in the balance.
It felt like forever until she answered, but it had been worth the wait. The woman stood in the doorway while a six-year-old remained guarded behind her long, slender legs. The killer grinned again, letting his eyes roam up the length of her, enjoying the view—the opportunity, as he knew it would only happen this one time. Finally, his gaze lay on the dark face of a beautiful young Whitney Houston. She stared back at him with concern that quickly transformed into horrified realization. She recognized him, and she knew she was in trouble.
Understatement of the year, he thought.
He let himself in.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
It took a few minutes for his vision to clear. By then, the humiliation of his poor health had forced him into staring down at the floor, straining to keep his tight eyes open and his breath in steady regulation. It seemed like age was finally trying to stop him.
“Here, drink this.”
Kylie drove a tall glass of fizzy water into his hand. He grabbed it, stared at it, and for the briefest moment wondered if he should trust her. That was the very first moment he knew he was becoming too cynical for his own good. If he couldn’t trust young Kylie Stanford, who could he trust?
Mason drank it down in large gulps, as if challenging those trust issues. It felt stale and rancid as it hit the back of his throat, but if it helped, then he had no worries. He passed back the empty glass and shivered.
“You should see a doctor,” she told him, plonking next to him on the couch.
“I’ll be fine. It’s just a lot of stress hitting me all at once.”
“Has it happened before?”
Mason shook his head, but in truth, he was still thinking back to his last couple of cases. Sure, they had taken their toll on his muscles and exposed his fragility, but he still considered himself to be in top shape. It was his mind he worried about more than anything.
“Whatever,” Kylie said with a sigh. “If you won’t do it for you, just take care of yourself so you can take care of me. You want to see me safe, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then stop being a man and just call a doctor.”
Mason waved it off. “Like I said before, I need you to get out of town. Forget about your studies, take your mom on a nice trip somewhere.” He stood and dug into his pocket, quickly producing the handful of bills he kept in there for emergencies. He licked his finger with a sandpaper tongue, then counted through it and handed it over. “It’s not much, but it should get you a couple of days in a motel.”
“But—”
“Actually, make that a hotel,” he said, remembering that morning with worry.
“I can’t take this.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want to stick around. I want to help you.”
Mason shook his head. The last time he had let a strong-willed girl follow him into danger, he’d lost one of the people he loved the most. He wasn’t prepared to let that happen all over again. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but this isn’t the time to start repaying favors. Anyway, if you really want to help, you can do so by taking the money.”
Kylie rolled her eyes, then looked down at it. She made a show of her heavy exhalation, using it to express her displeasure. After a few seconds of letting him see how fed up she was, she gently pushed his hand back toward him. “I’ll think about it, okay? But if we go anywhere, we’ll do it with our own money.”
“Why are you so stubborn?”
“Why are you?”
Before he got the chance to answer, something else came out of nowhere to make his day even worse. At first, he only scrunched up his face as he felt the violent buzz of the cell phone in his pocket. Then he stared at the name on the screen, mild concern wriggling through to his already unstable heart. When he heard the mortified urgency in Evie’s voice, his whole body turned into an ice-cold lump of stone, leaving him unable to move.
“Mason?” she said. “Drop what you’re doing and come home. Right now.”
Chapter Sixty
The smoke was visible even in broad daylight. It drifted up in thick plumes, somehow turning blacker as it touched the clouds. Mason wasn’t even on the right street yet, but already the sky began to resemble his heart; it was black, toxic, and an unsafe place to be.
As he came onto his home street, the firefighters came into view. There were two trucks and a number of police cars. Somewhere on the end was Evie’s silver Explorer, its door left wide open as if it had been abandoned or something else had taken her attention.
Mouth dry, head aching, Mason feared the worst. He slammed on the brakes and brought the Mustang to a screeching halt. Just like his sister had done, he leapt out of the car, leaving it unattended, then ran toward the burning square of bricks that used to be his home. The cops and firefighters were little more than a blur to him now. He barely noticed them at all, until the army of firm arms restrained him.
“Get the hell off me!” he screamed. “My wife and kid are in there!”
He wrestled, but it amounted to nothing. He fought for freedom and found no purchase. It wasn’t until Evie appeared at his side, MJ scooped up in her strong grip, that he finally let the authorities win. By now, his legs were turning to jelly. His stomach felt empty and hollow. The look of terror and confusion on his son’s face was all it had taken to stop and to divert his attention toward his family.
“Leave him alone,” Evie said to the men. “Go. I’ve got it from here.”
“Where’s Diane?” Mason asked.
“Stay calm and come with me.”
“Where’s Diane?” he tried again, this time more urgent.
Her absence of an answer only drove him crazier. MJ continued to cry in her arms until Mason lifted the weight into his own chest. He held his son close, his heart hammering like a dance track as he awaited the answer he knew was coming. Even as the fire raged on, huffing and puffing as it licked its toxic fumes up into the sky, all Mason could hear was his heartbeat.
“We can’t find her,” Evie said. “MJ was sitting on the lawn all alone when I got here.”
Mason felt ready to collapse.
“But we found this. He had it in his hand when we got to him.”
“Give it to me.”
“Just… let me take MJ. You might want to sit down after this.”
Mason barely noticed the weight disappear from his shoulders. It felt like a new weight took its place. Something less like a blessing and more like a burden. He took the folded piece of paper, reading and re-reading it, hoping the words on it would somehow change. It didn’t. Each hopeless, tear-blurred glance offered the same life-altering words:
This girl is mine now.
Chapter Sixty-One
Evie watched her brother’s life fall apart right in front of her. She didn’t know what to do with any of this; her own daughter coming back into her life occupied enough of her time, Diane had been taken by the Lullaby Killer, and MJ didn’t understand any of it. All he did was stay in her arms, bawling into her shoulder and making her shoulder wet.
“It’s okay,” she told him, holding his head. “It will all get fixed soon enough.”
They were sitting in the car with the door wide open for air. In front of the vehicle, Bill was ordering the officers around and trying to divert the attention elsewhere. They had enough to worry about with Wendell coming back on the scene, but now the police simply had to be involved. How could they not, looking at this mess that used to be their home?
Evie wanted to help—she really did—but what was there to offer? Against every temptation to set MJ down and run to her brother, this was where she was needed. It was time she accepted the role of responsible adult, lest Mason get weighed down with the stress.
That would have to suffice.
For now.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Keeping his mouth shut was one of the harder moments of his life. Detectives he’d never met before hammered him with questions, completely unsympathetic toward his missing wife. Mason knew what it was like to stand on that side of the table, and every word was by design. He wouldn’t let anything slip, no matter what.
By the time they let him out, dusk had settled. Every head in the department turned toward him as if they were suspicious. Did they think he had taken Diane somewhere? That he’d burned down his own house? Were they even vaguely aware that the Lullaby Killer was coming after him because of what they’d done to him?
Bill came out of nowhere, instructing the escorting officers to stand down. Mason shot him a grateful stare and then walked with him toward the elevator. As he went, he still felt the eyes of every cop boring into the back of his skull. He could barely take it—his missing wife was already tearing his heart apart. He didn’t need more to worry about.
“They don’t think you did it,” Bill said, pressing the button for the elevator.
“Good, because that would be stupid.”
“How you holding up?”
“I’m not.”
The elevator pinged. The doors crawled open. They went inside, where it was empty and quiet, punching the button for the parking garage. Mason waited, pain and torment stretching through his body. It was as though hate and ire were filling him from head to toe. He kept his mouth shut, his hands stuffed into the pockets while the doors closed. It took forever.
Seconds after the elevator took action, Mason slammed the emergency stop button. They jolted to a stop. Bill swayed, reaching out for the rail as he asked what the hell was going on. By then, Mason was already on him, grabbing him by the lapels and pinning him hard toward the back wall. The metal box they were in shook around them.
“Will you stop acting like this is all okay?” he demanded. “You’ve been weirding me out since this whole thing started, and if there’s one thing you’ve taught me over the years is that you can’t be trusted. You can’t, can you?”
“What? I—”
“Don’t play dumb.”
Mason grabbed him tighter, leaning his whole weight into him. As Bill’s eyes widened, Mason saw only trickles of fear. The rest was concern and misunderstanding. He didn’t fight back—didn’t need to—and besides, it was a wasted endeavor.
