Mimicry, page 7
He stood far back behind the trees, his RV parked way down the street. To even consider coming here for an all-day stakeout, they had to be making progress. It was bad enough that bitch Kylie had survived his attack, but now they were coming for him at his mother’s house, too? That was beyond a joke.
The things he needed were in that house. In the basement, beneath the floorboards, more jars of pickled pinkie fingers lay for him to admire. Beside them, a stash of junk food, Coca-Cola, and smutty magazines waited for him. It was his place of refuge when nothing else felt safe. Sure, he could sleep in the RV—maybe even his other secret hiding place—but this was the house he liked to call home. After all, he’d grown up in there, hadn’t he?
While Mason and the cop continued to watch the house, the Lullaby Killer had other plans. He turned on his heel and marched toward the RV, his breath catching in his chest. The excitement was too much to bear. Although the current situation instinctively felt like he was losing, in reality he had them all by the short and curlies.
“You don’t own me,” he sang, trapping some shitty song he’d heard on the radio in his head. “Don’t say that I can’t murder other boys.”
A large grin spread his cheeks, baring his teeth. He was growing more excited now, as he entered the RV and sat behind the big wheel. The idea of turning the rig around and getting the hell out of there crossed his mind, but why jump ship now? He had come so far, and he wasn’t going to stop here. First, he had to make a quick appearance to let them think they were on to him. And when he was done? Well… then it was time to continue with his scheme.
They’d never see it coming.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
It came breezing past them. The car shook. Mason put his hands on the dashboard to steady himself, but his line of sight was focused elsewhere. The RV was already speeding down the narrow road. The cars on either side left them very little room to pursue.
“Was that…?” Bill began.
“Drive!”
The ignition screamed in protest the first time. The second attempt was smoother. The engine began to grumble. Bill wrestled with the wheel, and they pulled out of the parking spot. Seconds later, they were peeling down the road with the RV far ahead of them. It looked like a little white-and-brown dot from way back here.
“We’re going to lose him,” Mason said. “Give this thing a kick.”
“It’s not a magic car,” Bill spat.
Mason stayed quiet. His hand went for his gun by instinct, but it was useless. Even as the car gained a little speed, there was no way of stopping it without calling for backup, but that would open a whole load of questions from the SFPD. It was hopeless.
Farther along the street, the RV trundled along at breakneck speed. As they closed a little distance, Mason squinted through the windshield, looking for a license plate number. At first, he thought he was going blind, his vision too blurry. But he soon realized there was one strong reason he couldn’t make out the plate.
There wasn’t one.
“Son of a bitch doesn’t have a plate,” he said, excitement surging through him.
“It has to be him, doesn’t it?”
“Has to be…”
But Mason wasn’t sure. It had already been a long shot to even suppose Marvin Wendell was still alive. Even longer a shot was that he had been coming back here, where the cops could so easily have checked. And now he was supposed to believe the killer had the arrogance to be driving the same vehicle he’d used all those years ago? Nobody was that stupid.
But Marvin Wendell was that sly.
Mason’s patience hit its peak when a line of cars spread along the crossroad. Bill expertly handled the car, spinning the back wheels around and kicking out smoke from the tires. He regained traction and picked it back up without losing much speed. Mason felt useless as he sat there, waiting to get closer to the man who’d easily escaped their pursuit. All he could do was watch as the RV became an even smaller blur in the distance.
Until it rounded the corner and vanished.
“Shit!” Bill said, pulling to the side of the road.
“Keep going,” Mason told him. “There’s still time.”
“He’s gone, buddy.”
“Bullshit. We can still—”
“He’s gone!”
Mason took a deep breath, his hands shaking as he rubbed his face. If there had ever been a chance of catching the Lullaby Killer before he killed again, that was it. They’d blundered it, not having expected the RV to blow past at such a speed. Mason had only hoped Wendell would appear on foot. That way he could take care of it quickly and smoothly.
No such luck.
“We need to organize ourselves,” he said, fighting back the urge to slam his fist into the dashboard. “All these careful steps inching forward are getting us nowhere. What we have to do is get a plan together.”
“What do you suggest?”
“How should I know?”
“Then let’s brainstorm.” Bill dug deep into his pocket and produced a phone. Mason leaned in close to see who he was calling, but his gaze kept drifting back to the end of the road, praying hopefully that the RV would turn around and give them a second chance.
It didn’t.
“We need a meeting of the minds,” Bill said.
“Call Evie then. And Captain Cox.”
“She’s retired.”
“I don’t care. Reach out to her.”
Bill stared at him, but Mason paid no notice. He was too fixated on what they’d lost to see what they could regain. If only he’d been paying attention, right now he could be pinning Wendell against the concrete rather than wishing he was.
How long now, he wondered, until someone else died?
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Mason’s office was getting full. There was already little space between the two desks, but now they had Bill and his wife, Christine (who Mason hadn’t seen in several years), Diane, MJ, and Mason himself. Some sat and some stood, while MJ ran between them with a toy car, using his vibrating lips to replicate the sound of an engine. It did very little to help Mason’s anxiety, but he let it slide. After all, kids had to be kids.
“Any sign of Captain Cox?” he asked Bill, taking a break from gnawing his thumbnail.
“It’s just Leanne Cox now,” Bill said. “And she isn’t coming.”
“Why the hell not?”
“She said she’s putting that life behind her.”
Mason glanced at Diane, who gave a bad impression of a smile. He knew what she was thinking—that he could use a slice of that lifestyle, too. It wasn’t something he hadn’t been working toward, but it still felt so far away. Maybe someday, he thought.
“How about Evie?” Christine asked, her voice sweet as sugar.
“She was supposed to be here ten minutes ago.”
“We should wait a little longer.
Mason nodded. He was eager to get this talk going and start making some sort of plan. While the Lullaby Killer was out there acting like San Francisco was his playground, they couldn’t even arrange a small meeting between them. It embarrassed him a little.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Mason leapt to his feet and hurried over. Through the frosted glass in the door, he saw two silhouettes. Evie was easy enough to make out, but the other was shorter. More slender. He frowned, his forehead creasing up as he tore open the door. Before him was his sister and a young woman who looked an awful lot like her.
“Sorry I’m late,” Evie said.
“I’m used to it. Who’s this?”
“This is Amelia.”
Mason froze. The name was familiar, but he didn’t piece it together at first. When it finally hit him, it sent his head into a whirlwind of emotions. If it wasn’t already shocking enough to see her, bringing her to their late-night rendezvous sure was.
“You sure about this?” he asked.
“As sure as I’ll ever be.”
Mason widened the door and spread his arms for a hug. “Nice to finally meet you, Amelia.”
Amelia didn’t hesitate in going to him.
Chapter Forty
“First of all, I’m sorry you all have to be here.” Mason looked around at the room of gawking faces. Some were riddled with fear, others with admiration. He tried not to let it get to him. “I didn’t want or expect the Lullaby Killer to come back, much less to start threatening any of us. Until this is over, I’d appreciate it if you’ll bear that in mind.”
Plenty of nods across the room. That was something.
“Rather than tripping over our own toes,” he continued, “I thought it might be best if we started to formulate some kind of plan. It’s the only way to get a step ahead of him.”
“You can start with the family thing,” Bill mumbled.
“Okay, so Diane and Christine.” They both perked up, awaiting their orders. “You’re on protection detail. Try to stay as close to each other as possible for as much of the day as possible. The killer likes to pick you off when you’re alone and vulnerable, so don’t let that happen.”
“Will that help you do your job?” Christine asked.
“More than you’d think,” Mason said. “As cold as it sounds, I have to keep running home to check up on Diane and MJ. Remove that from the equation, and we might stand a chance at finding this guy.”
“It makes sense,” Diane said to her, recognizing the upset on her face. “It’s to keep us safe, after all. You can stay at our house if you like. Or if you have the room…”
“Figure it out among yourselves,” Mason said. “Evie?”
“Yep?” A small head with glasses perked up from the back of the room.
“Is Amelia up to speed?”
“She knows enough.”
“Good. Then I’m going to have to ask you to stay out of this.”
Evie laughed. “What makes you think I want to chase a killer with you?”
“Biology. Past experience. Observation.”
“All right, all right.”
“Just take care of your girl.”
A nod of agreement from each of the girls.
“What about us?” Bill asked.
“Like I said, we need to tackle this head-on, follow the pattern, and figure out where to go next. If memory serves—and assuming he’s actually going to stick to the pattern—he’ll be looking for some twins next.”
Bill raised a hand like he was in school. “Kylie is safe for now.”
“So that’s one less thing. But who will the twins be?”
“We gotta wait on a lead.”
Mason had thought as much but didn’t want to say it. It sounded negative. Defeatist. Through this whole mess of an investigation, all he’d wanted to do was stay ahead of the curve. But with the archaic nature of the killer’s pattern, anything was possible.
“I don’t think we have a choice but to wait for his next move,” Mason finally admitted.
“You’re actually right,” Diane agreed. “So let’s carry on as normal with that plan in place. As soon as you find another lead, Christine and I can start lying low.”
“That works.” Mason nodded, looking around the room. “Everyone okay with that?”
The office was a sea of mumbled agreement and nodding heads. Mason wrung his hands together, a familiar anxiety sucking at his enthusiasm. He’d been after this killer for years, and this was the second time he’d come back to mess with him. The timing seemed deliberately awful.
“What about me?” Amelia asked. “I can help you.”
Evie tried to shush her, but she failed.
“I’d love to involve you, but your mom just found you. Don’t let her lose you already.”
“But I’m a smart cookie, and I can run faster than a speeding bullet.”
“You’d have to if this psycho catches you,” Bill said.
Mason ignored it. “We’ll get to spend some time together eventually, Amelia. I want to get to know my niece. But this isn’t the way. For now, just keep your head down and stay safe, okay? I can’t afford to lose anyone el—” Else, he refrained from adding. It looked as though everyone in the room knew where he’d been going with that, too. Instead, Mason folded his arms and looked around the room, making sure everyone looked comfortable. Not a single one of them did, but at least they had a plan.
Sort of.
Chapter Forty-One
Evie had expected some kind of reaction, but not this soon.
They were outside the college, parking in one of the few spots available to guests. The morning saw an increase in the number of students walking around, each one busy with their own lives. She wondered what it would be like to not have to worry about serial killers.
“I won’t be long,” Amelia said. “Just let me grab some clothes and books.”
“You want me to come with you?”
“It’s safe in there. Trust.”
Evie let her go, then climbed out of the car for some air. The morning had a touch of frost to it, but she knew the Californian sun would soon melt that away. Until then, she covered her torso with her arms and shivered in the cold, watching her daughter head inside.
Wow, my actual daughter.
It still hadn’t hit her yet, but something else did. Out of nowhere, something small, cold, and plastic struck her forehead. It didn’t hurt, but Evie stumbled back from shock. As she reached up to touch where it had hit, she turned around to see a familiar-looking woman storm toward her. She was short and wiry, her big eyes full of hate.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing here?” she asked, spitting.
It wasn’t until she got closer that Evie recognized Amelia’s adoptive mother. She was eight years older than when she’d last seen her, and as she got closer, the crow’s-feet and bad Botox showed their inability to work together.
“Well? Answer me!”
Evie lowered her hands and put them in her pockets. Although she was trembling, she put all her effort into putting on a calm, unaggressive display. “Look, it’s not what you think. Amelia’s in trouble. She needed me—”
“She needed me. Her real mother. You shouldn’t be here. Now go away. Leave us alone.”
It surprised Evie to discover she actually wanted to comply. She saw the pain on this woman’s face and hated the idea that she had caused it. But it was necessary. “I’m sorry to have to do this,” she said in a low, soothing tone. “Amelia needs to come and stay with me for a few days. Just a few days. Then I’ll make sure she comes back to you safe and sound.”
“She’s not going anywhere,” the woman snapped.
“Sorry, but… she is.”
“I won’t let you take my daughter.” The first sign of tears appeared on her red face.
Evie sighed. The worst part of her was coming through, but she had to use it. It was the only way. “There’s nothing you can do anymore. Amelia is old enough to make her own decisions. The law is not on your side anymore, and Amelia chose this.”
The woman stared at her, teeth gritted and her face turning a darker shade of red. She reeled back her shoulder as if to try a slap, but then she resisted, slinking against the car. “I raised her,” she said, her voice cracking. “I brought her up from a baby. Please don’t do this to me. I need her in my life. I need her…”
Evie’s heart swelled. She had nothing but sympathy for this woman, but she was too stubborn to let her win. Though that didn’t stop her from behaving like a human being. Evie stepped up next to her and spoke calmly. “I’m not stealing her. She knows you’re her mom. It’s just that a killer is out there, and Amelia looks like she might be a target. I’m keeping her out of harm’s way while the police investigate. Okay?”
The woman sniffled. “You promise?”
“Of course.” But Evie didn’t want to promise. Having Amelia back in her life was one of the best things that had ever happened to her, and letting her go at the end of this would destroy her. So she promised to send Amelia back, and that was what she would do. But if Amelia chose to stay, what could Evie really do about it?
She had her mother’s stubbornness, after all.
Chapter Forty-Two
Mason was watching the news when it happened. It came as a surprise that the TV reported all sorts of drama, but the worst thing of all was happening inside his own home.
The letter dropped through the door and hit the floor. It took moments for the sound to register. Mason pulled MJ off his lap and set him down between the maze of open textbooks on the floor. As he stood, he made sure his son had been listening.
“What’s the capital of the United States?” he asked.
“Um… Washington, DC,” MJ said.
“Good, kiddo. When I come back, I want you to name ten states, so get reading.”
MJ laughed and buried himself in the books. Diane was upstairs sleeping in, and her absence suggested she hadn’t heard the letter come through the door. Mason stooped to pick it up, tore open the licked-down envelope flap, and pulled out a single sheet of paper.
The ink was the color of blood. Mason paused, looking at the back side where the blood had soaked through. But was it blood or simply a deviously chosen shade of ink? It didn’t matter. What really shook him was the message inside:
Now I have two more.
* * *
Brahm
That was all it said, but it was enough. Mason read it and reread it, holding the paper in shaking hands. He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse than a threat, but if two more civilians died because of Mason’s inactivity, he would be unable to forgive himself.
Thankfully, he had an idea.
Chapter Forty-Three
Mason screeched to a halt on Bill’s driveway and yanked up the parking brake. In just a couple of seconds, he was out of the car and pounding on the front door, the bloody letter gripped in one firm hand. He continued to knock until a blurry image appeared in the pane of glass. The door opened too slowly.
