Mason & Morgan- The Serial Killer Collection

by Adam Nicholls

  But it didn’t really matter. They all had to die, because they were all responsible in some capacity. Because of them he no longer had a wife; his beautiful bride who he’d shared his life with was just a body rotting in the ground. Because of them he’d lost his daughter; a stunning young girl who looked so much like her mother and had only five years of life under her belt. Was that what was supposed to happen? Were they supposed to be taken from him like that—ripped out of the world due to some careless driver?

  Like hell.

  Arthur left the jack and stormed back up to the office that overlooked the garage. After having knocked out Tom a few hours ago, he’d single-handedly dragged his huge body up that metal staircase and tied him to the railing in here. At least he could keep an eye on him from the warmth and comfort of his office chair. Only now he was stuck with having to wait until his victim came around, and who knew how long that would take?

  Whatever, he thought, slamming the door behind him and shooting a quick kick into the passed-out body. He was in control of this situation, and nobody was going to stand in his way. Hell, there was nobody left to stand in his way, and even if there was, the gears were already in motion: Tom Walker had to die. It was as simple as that.

  Arthur.

  He twitched at the sound of his wife’s voice. It came from deep within his mind, but it sounded so real. It sounded like disapproval, but was it? Arthur was no murderer—he and his wife both knew that—but this had to be done. It was the only right thing.

  And sooner or later, it was going to happen.

  Just as soon as Tom woke up, and Arthur could look at the twisted expression of horror on his face when he realized a car was about to demolish his skull—that he was going to receive the justice that was ten years overdue.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Morgan sat in his car a few blocks away, warming his hands in front of the heater. He’d been waiting for only ten minutes, but it was long enough to get some distance from St. John’s home and consider his revelation while he waited.

  A survivor had become a killer.

  It still hadn’t settled in his mind yet. Although looking back it seemed obvious, he never would’ve thought an all-together family man—at least as far as the internet made him seem—was capable of murder. Then again, wouldn’t Morgan find it hard to suppress the rage if anything happened to Rachel? Sure, he thought, but could he kill people at all, much less using such savage, inhumane methods?

  But Arthur had killed Dusty.

  Morgan could never let that go. It filled him with hate and ire, cramping every muscle in his body with tension while he imagined what it’d be like to get his hands on Arthur St. John. It made him feel like someone had taken over his body—Morgan didn’t think of himself as a bad person, and harming others didn’t exactly come as second nature to him. So what would he really do if he met the guy face-to-face? There was always room for forgiveness, but he’d always thought forgiveness couldn’t be given without the other person’s regret.

  Did Arthur St. John regret his actions?

  Doubtful. If he had, he would never have done it again. And again. While nobody knew exactly what would happen to Tom Walker, Morgan had an idea that it wouldn’t be great, although he did everything he could to remain optimistic. That was the best he could do.

  Cutting off his thoughts, a familiar car pulled into the parking lot and stopped beside his. Morgan slid on his gloves and climbed out of the car, then hurried into the newcomer’s vehicle where the engine was still running. The swift transition from warmth to cold, then cold to warmth, clogged up his sinuses. Another reason to hate the winter months.

  “What do you have?” Gary said, turning off the dome light by hand.

  Morgan filled him in on his discovery, starting with his breaking and entering. He spoke fast, not only to ensure he got every last detail out, but also to keep judgment at bay by drowning that first bit in information.

  It wasn’t until he finished that Gary spoke.

  “Jesus. Why didn’t you call it in?”

  “I broke in,” Morgan reminded him.

  “Ah. We don’t have a warrant, and you wanted the evidence to be usable in court?”

  “Exactly.” Morgan sighed and gazed into the empty parking lot, where fast-food wrappers rolled across the ground like tumbleweed. The truth was, he wanted Gary to take the credit for this one. Of course, the breaking and entering factored into it, but after all his best friend had done for him, this was the least he could do to repay the favor. “What will you do now?”

  Gary heaved out a short laugh. “Me? Don’t worry about me. How are you holding up?”

  “Okay, I guess. Why do you ask?”

  “He was your cousin, pal. Just knowing what happened to him couldn’t have been easy, but now knowing who did it to him?” Gary gnawed on his fist. “You can’t blame the guy for being angry. I mean, his whole family died and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I can sympathize that much, but that doesn’t give him the right to go around torturing folks.”

  “I’m not holding it against him.”

  Gary shifted in his seat and gave a cold, dead stare. “What?”

  “Seriously. It’s not his fault.”

  “Morgan, he killed two people, and he’s kidnapped a third.”

  “You don’t think I know that? I’m just saying, I understand his pain.”

  “Man, you gotta be kidding me.”

  “No, I’m not.” Morgan had thought about this from every possible angle, and it kept coming back to this: no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t help but feel Arthur St. John’s pain. Was he angry? No, he was goddamn furious, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand it. Besides, the killer was going down one way or another, so what did it matter if he forgave him or not? “Look, he had to do what he thought was right. If someone hurt Rachel—just look at what happened only a few weeks ago—I’m bound to have a reaction to it. We can sit and judge all the live-long day, but when it comes down to it, we’re just human. Which means we have a bunch of chemical reactions to events like this. In this case, it’s anger.”

  “More like lunacy.”

  “Or that. All the same.”

  Gary dropped his fist and fiddled with the key that dangled from the ignition, his breathing audible. “Well, I don’t like it. You think what you want, but don’t expect me to get on board with it.”

  “Works for me. I’m just grateful for the help.”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  “No.” Morgan tapped his friend’s shoulder and made eye contact. “Truly. Thank you.”

  Gary smiled. “It’s okay.”

  The silence that followed was nothing if not uncomfortable. Even childhood friends had to keep their emotions bottled to some extent, and Morgan knew this was Gary’s sweet spot—any more and he’d put on a big macho show, like he’d never had feelings in his life. Too much liquor and too many hookers for crap like that, right?

  “What’s the plan, then?” Morgan asked.

  “I guess I’ll call this in right now.”

  “What about the door?”

  Gary shrugged. “I’ll say we found it like that. Then we’ll have probable cause and find everything inside. After that, the mystery of the broken door will remain unsolved forever; meanwhile, we get to explore this guy’s notes.”

  “And the manhunt begins.”

  “You got it. What about you?”

  Morgan had no idea what he would do. He could go home to Rachel, but it didn’t feel like he was ready just yet. It was true enough that they’d made up and they were close to building bridges, but while those bridges were being built, he was entitled to a little skepticism. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go for a long walk.”

  “While the girl of your dreams is waiting for you at home?”

  “That’s complicated.”

  “Something you want to talk about?”

  “Not really. I just… Rachel’s been acting really strange lat
ely.”

  Gary killed the engine and cocked his head. “How so?”

  “She just hasn’t been herself. Short temper, really distracted. She even seems less interested in her work, and I can only guess what’s causing that. It’s hard to say—I think she’s going through a hard time with something. I just wish she’d tell me what.”

  “Then ask her.”

  Morgan supposed he was right. Their recent troubles had been so confused lately that he hadn’t taken the time to ask about her. Perhaps if he got to the bottom of that she’d open up, and they could start working on the problem. If not, at least she’d appreciate the interest. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll do that.”

  “Good man. Anything you need, call me.”

  “I have everything I need,” Morgan said, reaching for the door. “Just keep me in the loop with the case, and if Captain Bray asks, you never saw me.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Oh, and one more thing.”

  Gary leaned sideways, his face only barely visible from outside the car. “What?”

  “Let me know when you find him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  That was how he’d put it to Rachel, and although she’d gawked at him with an open mouth and a blank stare, when he asked again her lips curved into the perfect smile he’d known and loved all those years.

  “I do,” she’d said, “but it’s better I show you.”

  After that she’d grabbed her coat—Morgan hadn’t gotten as far as taking his off in the first place, as he’d been desperate to get to the point with his wife—and they’d climbed into the car with Rachel driving, which was becoming more and more common lately. He didn’t mind though; she was a good, safe driver, and he loved that it gave her a sense of independence.

  “Where are we going?” he asked after they left the drive.

  “Just wait. You’ll see.”

  Morgan wasn’t big on surprises, at least not on receiving them, but he couldn’t deny the excited anticipation kept him wide awake. He felt like a little boy on Christmas Eve, completely out of control of his body and the joy it was promising. All he could do was sit there and pick at the dry skin on his fingers, watching the cold but beautiful city of Washington, DC, pass by the window while they drove farther into the night.

  It took thirty minutes to arrive at their destination. Rachel shut off the engine and told him to get out. Morgan obeyed and exited the car with her, stepping into a vacant parking lot he didn’t recognize. “Where are we?”

  “Just come with me,” Rachel said, stomping through the gravel away from him.

  Morgan followed without another word, his excitement leading to nervous curiosity as they got farther and farther away from the lights that overhung the parking lot. Before he knew it, they were walking on wet grass, mud sticking his boots to the ground as he fought to keep up. “Hold on, will you?”

  “Can’t you keep up?”

  “No,” Morgan said frankly. “I’m old.”

  Rachel laughed at that, giggling like she used to. It was a pleasant sound that told him they were getting back on track, becoming the couple they used to be. This would happen again and again in their relationship, he could imagine that, but as long as they stuck together and focused on the important details, their marriage would be unbreakable. Morgan could feel her worries lifting as she came back and took his hand, leading him up a steep bank that felt just a little familiar to him. It was like an old friend who looked different behind a thick beard.

  “Now do you recognize it?” Rachel asked.

  Morgan tilted his head and squinted his eyes. Beyond the other side of the bank, a gravel path wound up to a fenced-off area. There were more lights down there, shining bright yellow onto climbing apparatus, swings, and a slide. Until now he’d forgotten about this place, leaving it far behind in his past with everything else he could no longer fit into his adult life. It brought an ounce of sadness, reminding him of an outdated version of himself. Back then he’d been more fun and positive. That was from a time before the crime.

  Before the killers.

  “Here.”

  Rachel took his hand, and together they slipped down the bank like the drop of a roller coaster. They laughed together as they struggled for grip, digging their heels into the sodden grass and reaching the bottom. She overtook him then, dragging him toward the swings and lowering herself onto one. “Sit.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so.”

  “But it’s cold.”

  “Do you want to make up or not?” she teased.

  Morgan took a seat on the swing beside her, watching his breath as it breezed out of him in a white mist. He let his heart rate slow while he controlled his shivering, keeping his hands inside his pockets and not daring to touch the freezing chains of the swing. It felt so sweet to be back here, but what he couldn’t figure out was why they were here at all.

  “Do you remember this place?” Rachel said.

  Morgan could feel her happiness. It was like a veil had been lifted. “I do.”

  “I used to play down here with my foster mom. She pushed me on this very swing when I was five years old, and I loved it. Every second of it. When I moved on to the next family, I was still in the area—closer, in fact. I started coming here alone, since I didn’t have any friends, and my new family made me more or less independent.” She paused with a tone of sadness, but she physically shook it off. “Then I saw you across the park.”

  Morgan remembered like it was only yesterday. “I was with Darryl Jacobs.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You asked me to push you.”

  “And you did.” Rachel cocked her head back and laughed. “That was the very first time we met. It took a few years before I made you my boyfriend, but I’m glad I did. You know, I spent a long time feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere, but when you pushed me on this swing, I felt like I had a friend. It felt… I don’t know… right?”

  Morgan’s heart warmed at the fond memory.

  “It’s tough being a kid, isn’t it?”

  “How so?”

  Rachel shrugged. “Adults are confusing. Classmates can be mean. Then your body goes on to change, and before you know it you’re living a completely different lifestyle. It got me to thinking that I’ve been expecting a lot from you lately. I’m sorry I snapped at you—I really am. This… I thought of this park the other day, and it brought back this memory. It made me think how lucky I was to meet you, because I didn’t really have parents of my own.”

  “I was the lucky one.” Morgan believed that to be true too. He had Gary, sure, and his own parents weren’t altogether bad, but meeting Rachel was the best thing that’d ever happened to him, and being here was a direct reminder that there really was some good in the world. “You don’t need parents. Never did. I was never going to leave your side.”

  “That’s what I was hoping for.”

  “Ask and you shall receive.”

  Rachel grinned and kicked back, swinging forward softly and generating a small breeze. “We were kids, and kids deserve to have parents. I got lucky, but our own child isn’t going to have that kind of trouble. I want us to be there for him or her no matter what.”

  Morgan paused, watching her. They’d not had the kid discussion in some time.

  “Promise me,” she said.

  “When that time comes, I’ll promise.”

  Rachel planted her foot into the ground, stopping herself. “Then promise me.”

  “I said I will when—” It hit him then, as if a brick had fallen from the sky. Behind his eyes he saw her short temper and the bad sleep patterns. The nonalcoholic wine label flashed inside his mind. He replayed this conversation, suddenly identifying it as the admission. “You’re not?”

  By now Rachel’s grin had formed into a huge smile that spread from ear to ear. Whether from cold or joy, a tear crystalized in the corner of her eye, glistening i
n the thick light from the overhead lamp. She nodded, blowing out rapid breaths. “I am.”

  Morgan wasn’t sure how he felt, but when he found himself smiling with her, he realized it was a good sign. The speed of his pulse was unbeatable. His hands shook while he felt empty and full at the same time, causing dizziness. He shot to his feet, hauling her up with him and holding her in a fierce embrace, feeling her body against his.

  “You’re going to be a daddy,” she whispered.

  The words landed softer this time, absent the shock. It explained everything and promised more. Without even having the time to understand his feelings, he knew he was nothing if not overjoyed. Morgan pictured himself as the father, Rachel the mother. Their kid played on the rug between their feet while they gazed down with all the love in the world at what they’d created. He didn’t know how they would accomplish that, but with Rachel at his side, he knew for sure they could do absolutely anything.

  And they’d do it together.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A whole night had passed, during which they’d made love and had the first decent night’s sleep in months. It occurred to Morgan while he showered and dressed the next morning that his job might have an impact on their happiness, but until Rachel said otherwise, he could only carry on the way he had been.

  After all, there was still Dusty’s murder to solve.

  Today’s plans weren’t set in stone, but when Gary turned up at his front door just before lunch, Morgan knew there had to be a good reason for his visit. Or at the very least, a bad one. Morgan cut it off right then and there, blurting out the good news.

  “Before you tell me anything, I want you to know we’re having a baby.”

  Gary’s reaction was gradual, starting with the same blank look he’d probably given Rachel the night before, but then it widened into genuine cheer. “Pregnant? Really? Are you freaking kidding me?”