Mimicry, page 4
“You presume correctly.”
Mason stood quietly in the darkness. On the phone, this man had sounded exactly like Marvin Wendell, but now there was something new in his voice. Pride? Perhaps. If not that, then a more fierce version of the arrogance he’d come to know.
“What am I doing out here?” Mason asked him bluntly.
“Oh, we’re here to play a game.”
“And what game might that be?”
A sly laugh from the shadows. Hysteria from a distorted figure. “There’s a plan, you see. A plan to put you back through your steps. Think of it as rereading your diary from many moons ago. This thing with Tommy here—this is just a prelude. A taster, if you like.”
“And I’m supposed to just allow this?”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
Mason drew the Glock so fast it surprised even himself. A quick flick of the wrist and he had the Lullaby Killer in his sights. He had reclaimed the power, and it had been easy. He just hadn’t counted on another laugh to sneak through the dark.
“You really think it’s that easy? I’m the counterweight, dummy. You shoot me, I fall. When I fall, Tommy gets hoisted into the air by his neck.” A pause for effect. “Just like old times, hey? Only this time, there’s no little girl of yours to kidnap. I’ll have to make do.”
Mason stepped forward, rage seizing control of his body. The killer twitched and motioned to the rope. Mason had no choice but to pause, lowering the gun ever so slightly. “You better get to your point, because I care a lot more about my family than I do this guy.”
“Honestly, I don’t believe you. Either way, you’re going to play my game.”
“Only until I get a chance to put you back in the ground.”
“Always with the temper.” The killer sighed and took one slow step back. “I’m done playing with you for now. How about this: you put the gun down, or I initiate this young man’s death. How does that sound?”
Shit, Mason thought so clearly he wasn’t sure if he’d said it aloud. Either way, there was no winning this. Every move he made could determine whether this man lived or died, and he wasn’t about to take a risk on a stranger.
He set down the gun.
“Good,” the killer said, reaching in the dark to tie the rope around the log.
Mason watched this with fear creeping up on him. He knew what the psycho was doing, but by the time he figured it out, it was too late to act on it. Although that didn’t stop him trying. Mason lunged for his gun, gripped it, and raised it back up. Only now the killer was gone, his presence replaced by rapid footsteps. Where he had stood, Tommy was now making choking sounds, the enormous log being used as the counterweight. Mason realized with sick fascination that he was now faced with a choice: catch the killer or save the boy.
The choice tasted bitter, but the decision was clear.
Chapter Nineteen
Evie did all she could to not get caught. She had purposely worn clothing that made her look younger—denim shorts and a vibrant crop top that complemented her slender figure—and put her hair into a loose ponytail. She felt ridiculous, but the endgame to this exercise was far too important to pass up. Like it or not, she had to be there.
She started by asking a few people for the right dorm number. Most of the girls were kind enough to help, some being sensible enough to ask a couple of questions first. Like why did Evie want the girl? Had she done something wrong? Was Evie a cop? They were oddly suspicious, but in this day and age, Evie thought a little paranoia went a long way.
Good for them, she thought.
The building was a maze of badly marked dorm rooms. Evie made her way through, squeezing between the tipsy young women that stank of alcohol and cheap perfume. The scents took her back some years, but she kept her focus on the task at hand. It was a big deal, after all. Maybe one of the biggest moments of her life. It was impossible not to shake.
Finally, she found room ninety-four. Loud, heavy-bass music blasted against the wood, pounding like it was trying to get out. Evie took a deep breath, prepared herself for the worst, then knocked on the door as hard as she could.
“Hello?” she said. “I’m looking for Amelia Hart.”
She stepped back and waited. Waited. It felt like an eternity before the music was turned down. The door finally swung open. A slim young woman appeared. She frowned, her face covered in just enough makeup to not call it “too much.” Her little nose wriggled as she contorted her lips.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
Evie had to dig deep to find the words. She had rehearsed her speech a thousand times, but never did she think she would actually get to be here, standing face-to-face with the girl. How long had it been now, she wondered? Seven, maybe eight years since the last fleeting exchange? Even longer since she had said goodbye forever. Or at least until now.
“Amelia?” Evie asked softly.
The girl looked at her as if she recognized her. Her eyes rolled up and down Evie’s body. She had the same skeptical expression as the kids downstairs, only this time it came with a squinting of the eyes. “Who’s asking?”
“My name is Evie Black. I have reason to believe your life might be in danger.” Evie let out a long, stress-filled breath. Her heart was thumping the whole time. “Is there somewhere we can go to talk? Somewhere… quieter?”
“Er…” Amelia stepped outside and pulled the door to a close, drowning out the sound. She did this so delicately, like she didn’t want to disrupt whoever else was in that dorm room. “I’m not sure I understand. What’s the danger?”
“It’s complicated. There’s a serial killer on the loose.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
Evie realized how stupid this sounded. However much she elaborated on it, it would sound like some kind of dumb prank or scam. It quickly became clear that there was only one way to deal with this, and that was to hit her with the truth. To blurt it out before she could talk herself out of it. All it took was a little courage.
“Because the killer is after me,” she said. “And I’m your real mother.”
Amelia’s jaw dropped. She had no words, and Evie couldn’t blame her. Not one bit.
Chapter Twenty
Mason hit the dirt. His knees gave in, and he collapsed to the ground. The weight of the hanging man pinned him there. They squirmed together as Mason fought to break free and get to his knees. He struggled, then gave up. Lying on his belly, he stared in the direction the killer had run, grinding his teeth. Disbelieving that he had come so close and had to let him go.
“Thank you,” Tommy wheezed, finally getting off him and crawling to his feet. He reached for his neck, touching the burn mark caused by the rope and then wincing. “I didn’t think I was going to make it through this. Thank you so much, mister.”
Mason didn’t say anything. He was afraid that if he did, he would lose his temper, blaming this poor, innocent man for his own failure. He climbed to his feet slowly, feeling his age. Feeling every creak and crack of his joints. This was a young man’s game. One he had almost been too old for eight years ago. Now? It was like swimming upstream in a storm.
“You got a phone?” he asked Tommy.
“No, sir.” More coughing.
Mason fished into his jacket, found his cell, and handed it over. “Take this and call the police, will you? Maybe an ambulance, too, if you feel like you need it.”
“I’ll be fine. I just want to see my girlfriend. If she’s—”
“She’s safe.”
Tommy smiled, then disappeared from sight. Mason used the time to explore the scene, hoping to find a vital piece of information that might help locate the killer. After a long, detailed search, nothing turned up. Nothing except an ominous message carved into the bark of a nearby tree. A message that stood to remind him of his deepest fears.
CRADLE AND ALL
Mason shivered despite the sweat rolling down his temple. His mind went back in time to when Thomas Chance had hanged from this very same tree. Back then, the message had been clear as day, but it had faded over time. Somewhere during this night, Marvin Wendell had taken a knife to the exact same spot and refreshed his devious promise; somehow, the Lullaby Killer was back from the dead.
And he was about to have a lot of fun.
Chapter Twenty-One
So far, things were working out great. The killer had still only taken one victim, but he hadn’t struggled to inject a little fear into Mason Black. The news reports had told him that last night’s victim had actually survived, and the killer was surprised to learn that he was fine with it.
As long as he suffered.
He continued his work, tearing the last of the metallic strips from inside the RV. The project was really coming along, although he had to step up his game at some point. It didn’t have to look exactly as it did all that time ago, but if he could just make it operational—a hollow, soundproof tin can to easily transport his victims—he would be on the right track.
The killer took a quick break, using his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead. It was thirsty work, and he had been up all night as excitement coursed through him. He was paying for it now, but he’d taken the time to enjoy the sweet feelings of satisfaction as he tossed and turned all night. When he did sleep, all he dreamed about was the look on Mason Black’s face as he realized he had already lost. How hopeless he had looked as the killer gave him the ultimatum. It was obvious what he would choose, too. Black was always the goody-goody.
But that wouldn’t last. The Lullaby Killer had a plan in place. It was a deliciously dark idea that could bring even the strongest men to their knees. Everyone had a weak spot, and for Mason, it was his family. If he could just get ahead of the PI and make his mark there, the real fun could truly begin. The killer would first win back his pride.
And then Mason could die.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mason hated to see them go. Every inclination to follow them and keep them safe was only combated by the fact he had somewhere to be. It hurt him to know he couldn’t always protect them, but it was just impossible to watch over them while trying to find a psychopath.
“You look a million miles away,” Diane said.
“Sorry.” Mason shook out of his dismal train of thought, and suddenly, he was back in the doorway of their home. Diane was standing in front of him, MJ’s backpack hanging from one hand while her car keys were gripped in the other. She had that same concerned look she’d always had when a killer was on the loose. Concern for him, but also for their marriage.
“If there’s something we should know…”
Mason shook his head from side to side. “I told you everything there is.”
“That’s what scares me. There’s no guarantee we’ll be safe.”
“It’ll be over soon,” he lied.
“And then what? Another killer will stumble into our lives? One second.” Diane stepped down the drive and opened the door. As she handed the backpack to MJ, she mumbled something into his ear, closed the door, then returned. “It’s the same problem as always, you know? We were working things out. Business was going steady. You were doing great to keep your promise that there would be no more killers.”
“I didn’t see this one coming.”
“Then why promise in the first place?”
“To keep the family together!” Mason snapped, quieting his voice only at the end. The last thing he wanted was to let MJ know there was a problem. He settled into a low, quiet tone. “Look, it seems like every time I vow to stop chasing these creeps, they come out of the woodwork and find me regardless. What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Well, you—”
“Please, just let me finish.” Mason paid no mind to her hurtful frown. “I’m doing everything I can to protect you, to keep everyone happy, and at the same time, I have an ongoing investigation I can’t even involve the police in. Speaking of which, there’s the big secret. Even if I come out of this alive, there’s no guarantee I won’t end up in prison for murder. So I’m begging you, just for now, can you keep the marital problems to yourself while I try to focus?”
“Nice, Mason. Real nice.”
Mason shook his head again, taking her hand in his. He leveled his gaze on her. “We will address it, all right? I promise. As soon as this is over, we’ll talk about it in depth. But right now, I just need to stay focused. Do you think you can live with that?”
Diane hesitated, sighed, and glanced back at the car. She moved her lips, as if tasting the words before they left her mouth. “Okay. I can do that. For now.”
“Thank you.”
They exchanged a quick, blunt kiss. Diane turned and climbed into the car, checking on their son before she gave some life to the engine and reversed out of the driveway. Mason couldn’t help but notice she seemed distracted, as evidenced by the fact she almost clipped his own car. He winced as the Mustang’s paintwork was almost compromised, but then he quickly understood something that brought his fear back into the bigger picture.
A little paintwork was the least of his problems.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“The hikers are safe,” Bill said. “For now.”
“That’s something.” Mason sat on the hood of his car, looking over at the man he used to call his partner. They had chosen this spot down by the train tracks, away from prying eyes and listening ears. The secret belonged to them both, after all.
Bill came to join him on the car, only leaning against it. He folded his arms and matched Mason’s long stare out toward the opposite side of the tracks. Mason could feel his friend’s tension. Mostly because he suffered from it also.
“What does the police situation look like?” he asked.
“I’ve only just been called onto the case. They didn’t get the idea that Wendell had returned until our missing hiker gave his statement. Every word you exchanged with the killer is now on official police record. Yay us, right?”
Mason sighed heavily. He wasn’t sure what frightened him the most: getting cut open by a lunatic or spending the rest of his life behind bars for having left him for dead in the first place. “Whatever you do, you need to throw them off our scent.”
“I know that, but what about right now?”
“Beats me. The SFPD are efficient. If you’re leading the investigation, it could buy us a little time, but as far as they know Wendell never died. Maybe that can play to our advantage.”
“How’s that?”
“Wendell can only announce the truth by confirming he’s still alive. It could be some kind of blessing in disguise. Only we won’t know how to feel about it until it actually happens.”
“If it happens,” Bill added.
Mason wrung his hands together, fighting to control his breathing. Nearby, the train tracks hissed. The hiss grew into a whistle, and then the distant sounds of a passenger train led to a long horn. Within seconds, the train rocketed past them, shaking the car. The suspension bounced them gently up and down. Suddenly, Mason had a flashback to when Marvin’s sister—Alison Wendell—had led people down here to their deaths.
Thank God she’s no longer around, he thought.
“What’s next?” Bill asked as the sounds died down and left them with the aftermath of the train’s presence. It could still be heard in the distance, moving on to tear through the city. “If we can get an idea of where to move, maybe we can keep ahead of this creep.”
Mason thought hard. He had committed the report to memory before having to send it back to the police. To the best of his recollection, the Lullaby Killer’s next crime was to kidnap Ryan and Kylie Carter. This sparked an idea in the recesses of Mason’s mind.
“Holy shit,” he said.
“What?” from Bill.
“I think I know what to do.”
“Care to share?”
By then, Mason had already slid off the hood of his car. He hurried around the vehicle, tore open the door, and called over the roof. “I’m going to pay someone a visit. Can you just keep your ear to the ground and let me know if there’s any development?”
“Of course,” Bill said with a hint of resignation.
Mason didn’t hang around to give it any more thought. Already his mind was occupied with the idea on where to go next. Even if he were to give Bill the time of day, the first thing he would notice was that Bill was unusually quiet. At first, he’d thought it was because of the guilt—a belated regret for what they’d done to Wendell. But now it was too obvious to ignore.
Bill was hiding something.
Chapter Twenty-Four
All he wanted was to see her bleed. A little swish from his knife to hear her scream. Perhaps he could hack off her pinkie finger, too, just for old times’ sake. Even the thought of it made him quiver with excitement.
From where he knelt behind the bush, the Lullaby Killer had a clear view of her house. Kylie Carter was inside, and according to her social media pages, she had been “living her best life.” Little did she know that life was about to come to an end. After years of prepping and planning, Wendell was finally ready to take her out. First, he would take her away like he had all those years ago, but this time, he’d make it impossible for her to run. He even considered starting with her knees, making a hollow crack as he mashed them with a hammer.
The killer realized he was drooling. He wiped it off with his cuff and stood up to make his move. As he rose above the bush, a roaring engine grumbled down the street and screeched to a halt outside the house. The killer cowered back down, watching impatiently as he waited for the driver to get out. Sure enough, it was Mason Black who exited the car, leaving the killer to squeeze his hands into fists. He mumbled a long string of expletives as anger flowed through his veins. He grew so hot he felt like he was about to pass out.
