In the distance, Sandra was sobbing at Joshua’s murder. His death, however, probably didn’t sting as much as his callous betrayal of her beforehand. For the first time in forever, Mason felt a pang of sympathy for his ex-wife.
“Cox is waiting for you,” Evie said, moving him on.
Mason looked at her. It was one of those moments where it felt as though they both wanted to discuss what had happened. She knows, he thought as he read her disapproving frown. She knows what I did to Marvin Wendell. “I—”
“Don’t say anything. We’ll talk about it later.”
“There might not be a later.”
Evie sighed. “I know.”
Captain Cox approached from behind. “Evelyn, could we have a moment, please?”
They watched Evie leave, then both sat on the van’s step, looking out at the busy scene as it unfolded around the trapdoor.
Bill walked past and nodded before attending to whatever business he’d been assigned. “Some night, huh?”
Mason uttered an uncomfortable laugh. “For sure. Hey, what’ll happen to Luke now?”
“Wendell’s son? We’ll take care of him.”
“He’s a sweet kid. This will scar him.”
“No doubt.”
Mason shifted his legs and hung his head. He knew what was coming.
“I guess I owe you an apology,” Captain Cox said.
“No. You were just doing your job. But I had to prove myself.”
“Of course, but it still has to go to court. You did evade police custody, you know, and caused the city some damage. Shots were fired.”
Mason just nodded.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it though. It’s just procedure.”
“You sure a jury will see it that way?”
“They’d better. You’ll have me standing beside you.”
Mason smiled, remembering how much he’d liked working with her all those years ago. “I appreciate that—I really do—but isn’t there something else that needs to be addressed?” It was better out in the open. The tension was killing him—he would rather be arrested here and now than suffer another uncomfortable second.
“What’s that?”
“You know, Wendell said that I—”
The captain waved a hand in dismissal, then stood. “I didn’t hear everything she said. See, I’m a little hard of hearing. Besides, there was some damage to the recording.”
Mason glared up at her. “You mean…”
Cox patted him on the shoulder and lowered her lips to his ear. “Promise me two things… I want to know that he suffered unimaginably.”
Mason nodded. “What’s the second?”
“I never want to hear anything about this again.” She turned and left, rounding up the officers who’d set up the recordings. “All right, let’s get all this wrapped up!”
In the distance, the drone of ambulance sirens grew louder. Mason stood, raised his nose to the sky, and drew a long, deep breath. He could smell the piney scent of the towering redwoods, and the damp, deliciously mulchy grass beneath his feet, and was suddenly overwhelmed and grateful to have his freedom.
Only one question remained: what was he going to do with it?
Chapter Eighty-Seven
Evie sat in the wheelchair while Mason dealt with the hospital receptionist. When he returned, he was wearing a smile so false it made him look like an editorial cartoon.
“This really isn’t necessary,” she said. “I can walk.”
“Sorry, sis. Doctor’s orders. You have to take it easy for a few days.” He took the handles and scooted her out to the front of the building, where Bill was due to collect them at any moment.
The cold air hit Evie’s legs, making her knees shake. She still hadn’t had a chance to change out of the hooker outfit. She’d worn it the night she was taken by Alison Wendell, and for as long as it was still on her body it served only as a nasty reminder. “I want to know something.”
Mason came around and knelt by her wheelchair so he could look into her eyes.
“Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“Don’t play games with me, Mason. Is it true, what Wendell said?”
For a moment, he stared at her; then his eyes wandered, avoiding contact. “Yes. It’s true. I know you don’t approve, and I’m not exactly proud of it, but—”
“Oh, fuck that.” Evie hit his shoulder, but he didn’t budge. She struck again, letting out her frustration. “Fuck that, and fuck you. You think I care that sick bastard was sliced up? He got what he deserved. But you could’ve told me.”
Mason shook his head. “I’m sorry, Evie. I didn’t think you’d want to hear it.”
“I always…” The teardrops blurring her vision surprised her. It had always taken a lot to make her cry, so where had this come from? “I always thought you and I had this… this thing. That we could trust one another, and have no secrets.”
“I do trust you.” He took her hand.
“But I don’t trust you. Not now. How could I?”
Mason stood, a look of shame and guilt on his face as a steady wind picked up and chilled them both. It gusted down from the sky and brushed Evie’s hair. She didn’t mind too much. It was just nice to be heading home. “I’ll come around, Mason. It’ll just take time to rebuild that trust.”
“Say no more.”
Bill finally arrived, hopping out of the car and helping Evie into the front seat. He made sure she was comfortable, then excused himself for a moment. “Sorry, Evie. Mason and I have one last thing to discuss, and then we’ll get you home.”
Typical, Evie thought, darkness swelling in her heart. As much as it hurt, she couldn’t help but think the trust between them was severed, and it would never return.
Chapter Eighty-Eight
The moment the car door closed, they got down to business.
“Your court hearing is Thursday,” Bill told him. “Meanwhile, don’t take any long-distance journeys. Take this opportunity for a few days off. Get your bearings, rest up. All the good stuff.”
Mason thought of Amy. Both she and Sandra would be torn up about Joshua’s death. He would spend some time with them both. And then Diane popped into his mind. Mason felt awful for having involved her in this big mess, and he would be sure to thank her somehow.
“Thanks, Bill. And what about you?”
“Me? I’m fine. To tell the truth, I just feel bad you’re the one who suffered through all that.” He looked around at Evie, who was picking at her fingernails in the car. “If you need me to come forward and take responsibility—”
“No. That won’t be necessary.”
“But if you change your mind, it’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me.” Bill folded his arms across his chest as leaves swirled around their legs. “Do you regret it? What we did to Wendell?”
“Marvin?” Mason asked. “No. Not in the slightest. He messed with my family, and I’d do it all over again. My only regret is that I didn’t do enough to protect my loved ones.”
“Well, they’re here, aren’t they?”
Mason sighed. “I suppose. Come on, let’s go home.” He climbed into the back seat of the car and watched out the window as San Francisco rolled by. The beauty of the city made him think about his life here and what he could make of it. As soon as the court trial was over, he would be able to make a start.
But there was one more thing he had to do first.
Chapter Eighty-Nine
A week had passed, and Mason was now a free man. The courts had ruled him as falsely accused and acknowledged his efforts in bringing the killer known as Lady Luck to justice. The details on the fate of her brother, the Lullaby Killer, remained undisclosed.
Before Mason could celebrate his freedom, however, he’d first had to attend Joshua’s funeral. Although many mourners frowned at his presence (some even held him responsible for Joshua’s death), he felt it his duty to comfort his family.
Afte
r the service, they’d headed to Briar’s Bar. The drinks were free, and Joshua was barely mentioned. It seemed to be just a group of people who’d lost someone, coming together as one, and holding each other upright in support.
“I have to get going,” Mason said to Amy, who sat sipping quietly on her lemonade. “Remember to call me if you need anything, all right? Anything at all.”
“Like a puppy?”
Mason smiled—not at the joke itself, but in admiration that she still managed to maintain her sense of humor. “If you need anything else.” He stood, kissed her on the top of the head, and went into the cool outdoors. The air was fresher here, and he enjoyed it for a moment before heading back to his beloved Mustang.
The bar’s door swung open and Sandra came out, looking up both ends of the street. When she saw Mason standing by his car, she jogged over to him, waving her arms to catch his attention. “Not going to say goodbye?”
“It looked like you had your hands full in there.” It wasn’t the truth. In fact, he’d only wanted to avoid being the person she depended on. In times of misery, he knew, the person who offered the most support was believed to be the most dependable. That false belief would only be damaging to her.
“Do you think…” Her words trailed off, her head tilting toward the ground.
“I’m sure Joshua didn’t want to hurt you.”
Sandra cupped her mouth. “He aimed the gun at me and—”
Mason took her in his arms, rubbing her back as she nuzzled into his neck. “Shh, it’s all right. He was just scared, Sandra. People do crazy things when they’re scared. You know he loved you.” He almost believed it himself.
“You really think so?”
“He took a beating from me and stuck around, for God’s sake.” He laughed as he edged her away, his hands still on her shoulders. “If that doesn’t prove his dedication, I don’t know what—”
Sandra leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. Mason could feel her hot tears on his cheeks, her lips dry and shaky as she kissed him hard.
Mason pulled away. “I’m sorry. You don’t want this.”
“I do.” Sandra nodded.
“No, you just think you do. Anyway, I can’t. I mean, I’m here for you, always, but as nothing more than a friend. I’m sorry.”
Sandra wept into her own hands.
“Hey, you have a daughter in there who’s suffering the same loss as you. Why don’t you head back inside and comfort each other? She’s a strong girl, Sandra. She’s really keeping it together. We could learn a thing or two from her.”
Sandra laughed, sniffling. “Thank you.”
Mason watched her head back inside, then got into his car and drove away. Deep down, he could finally feel some sort of closure from their divorce. Now it no longer felt as though he was expendable—discarded goods—he could move on and be the person he wanted to be.
It was perfect timing, too—Diane was waiting for him at her house, where he would pick her up for their first official date. Whether it would go well or not, Mason couldn’t be sure.
He was just happy to be alive.
Chapter Ninety
The sun was only just rising above the Badlands of Utah, when the one they called Anarchy climbed off the sobbing woman and zipped up his pants. He looked at her husband, who was bound and gagged and forced to watch the whole thing.
“Why?” The woman sobbed, holding her arms over her bare chest, her knees meeting her breasts. Her face was red with a hot flush of tears.
Anarchy slung his jacket over his back and slid on his sunglasses. He was barely thirty and had many years of fun like this ahead of him. “Why?” He laughed, leaned toward her, and whispered into her ear. “Because I can.”
With one quick strike, he pushed her head into the wall so hard it split the plasterboard. Her head drooped, dazed, as she fell unconscious. Her husband uttered muffled yet agonized cries of outrage and disgust.
“Don’t take it personally,” Anarchy told him while picking up the nearby newspaper. He took the cigarette from behind his ear, placed it in his mouth, and lit it with his Zippo. The flame still alive, he touched it to the newspaper, which caught ablaze. “This was for my pleasure, not for your pain.”
On his way out of the apartment, he dropped the newspaper onto the kitchen table and turned on the stove. Gas hissed out like an angry snake, leaving him only a short window of time to get out of there.
Anarchy closed the door behind him, then crossed the street to his Harley Davidson, casually taking drags on his Marlboro. Behind him a thunder-like explosion shook the ground. People crossed the street in panic, running to aid whoever was inside.
The perfect way to start any day, Anarchy thought as his bike roared to life between his legs.
He flicked the butt of his cigarette into the street and tore down the road, a whole world of anarchy ahead of him. His next stop?
San Francisco.
Manhunt
Chapter One
They were in the darkest, meanest streets of San Francisco, stumbling their way home. It wasn’t exactly the safest route, but at least they had each other.
Marion—the most attractive of the group and with a tendency to flaunt it—stuck to the middle, her sister latched on to one arm and her niece on the other. It was the way they supported each other after a night of heavy drinking, and they’d had a lot of practice. They sang together as they shuffled along the empty street.
Only it wasn’t empty.
Seeing the figure in the distance, lingering under one of the scarce streetlights, Marion stopped in her tracks. “Can we go the other way?” she asked.
Her sister, Bianca, raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I just feel a little uncomfortable.”
“Come onnnn,” moaned Lucy, the niece. At only twenty, she was too young to be drinking, yet had probably imbibed the most.
Marion didn’t know what it was, but she just had a foreboding hunch about the man up ahead, like when you woke up in the morning and just knew something bad would happen. Nonetheless, she tried to convince herself she was just being paranoid. “All right.”
They hurried on, trying not to look at the man as they passed beneath one streetlight to the next. It wasn’t until they were directly across the street from him that he pushed himself away from the wall and headed to cut them off.
“Excuse me.” His voice was strong but somehow relaxed.
Marion froze, realizing her family had stopped walking, too. She looked at them—Lucy, who wasn’t paying too much attention, and Bianca, who only scrunched up her face and shrugged.
“Could I trouble you for a light?” the man asked, their backs to him.
Marion turned and saw the cigarette hanging from his lips. On closer inspection he was something of a looker; well built, a perfectly strong jaw, and a full head of thick, dark hair. “Sorry, I don’t smoke.”
The man smiled, and the women went on their way.
Seconds later, his sound of his footsteps came rushing behind them. “Maybe you can help me with another problem.”
This time, Bianca took a stand. She turned, almost ripping her arm away from her sister. “Look, creep, we’re just trying to find our way home. Leave us alone.”
Marion, her legs starting to shake, watched as the man’s expression switched from concern to humor. It was like he’d been caught doing something wrong, and an embarrassed smile began to creep through.
Then he took out the gun.
“Actually,” he said with a mischievous grin, “I was hoping you’d come home with me.”
Chapter Two
They were on the door stoop again, Diane kissing him in the way she usually did: teasingly. It had been a year now, and the honeymoon period was still alive. If anything, their connection was stronger than ever.
Mason had even confessed his sins to her—the truth about having murdered the Lullaby Killer, his guilt about Evie being taken from him. It’d been down to his own car
elessness anyway, but Diane wouldn’t let him see it that way. Perhaps that was what made them work so well together.
“Have fun today.” Diane kissed him again, pulled her bag over her shoulder, and headed down the street.
For a moment, Mason watched her leave, savoring everything wonderful about her. With life currently as precious as he knew it could be, he was almost expecting this perfect companionship to fall apart, waiting for it to die.
Leaving the house and hurrying to work, Mason stopped the car outside his office and took a deep breath. Being a private investigator wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. There was paperwork to organize, permits to apply for, invoices to send. Only rarely would there be a case to truly test him.
Mason climbed out and stopped dead, gawking at the man outside his office, a frail-looking gentleman pacing back and forth. His shoulders were hunched, and his arms were folded across his chest. The most noticeable thing, however, was that his face was puffy and reddened from crying.
“Are you okay, sir?” Mason asked, shuffling a bundle of paperwork under his arm and reaching for the office key.
The man glanced up, surprised he wasn’t alone. He looked at Mason, over his shoulder, then back again. “Are you Mason Black?”
“I am. How can I help?”
“Sorry to bother you, but… Well, I…” The man looked down again, interlacing his fingers and examining them in a conspicuously nervously manner. It wasn’t until a single fresh tear dropped to the ground that he raised his head again. “There’s been a kidnapping.”
Mason stopped still, feeling nothing but sadness for the man. It’d clearly taken all his will just to say it aloud. Mason didn’t know how he would extract the rest of the information from the poor guy. “We better talk inside,” he said, struggling to open the door with his hands full.
Mason & Morgan- The Serial Killer Collection Page 33
