Missing, Adam Nicholls [book recommendations website txt] 📗
- Author: Adam Nicholls
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The Carter boy flinched, then raised a trembling hand. It was easy to make out what was being shown: only three fingers and a thumb. And then the camera panned around in the dark room, making a clunking noise.
“What’s with the pinkie fingers?” Bill whispered.
“I don’t know,” Mason said. “I’ve never known. Shh.”
The camera now pointed at a tray of surgical tools. The statement was clear.
“One million,” the killer said. “Have it ready within three days, and I’ll call you. Any later and I’ll sing this kid a lullaby. Oh, and Mr. Black…”
Mason’s heart pounded. Had he been watched this whole time?
“Back the fuck off.”
The video ended abruptly, turning the screen black. Mason put the phone down and dragged out a kitchen stool. He had a lot to think about. That much was clear.
“What do you think?” the captain asked him. “Shall we arrange the payment? We can do it securely and try to take him down. If we set up away from civilians—”
“Not yet,” Mason told her, ignoring the pissed-off look she shot him for being interrupted. “Give me two more days to find this guy, then consider making the payment.”
“I don’t want any trouble, Mr. Black,” Owen said, looking up. “I just want to pay the ransom and have my boy back. One million isn’t that much. Not to save my son.”
The room fell silent while waiting for Mason to respond. It was good to know he still carried some form of presence and authority, if nothing else. “No,” he finally said. “I’ll take two days, whether you like it or not. I’m so close. Chances are, the killer just wants the money and will hand over your son. But I wouldn’t count on it. This is out of the ordinary for him. Until now, everything he’s done was for sport. He doesn’t need a finger. He just took it because he could.”
Mr. Carter wiped his eyes. “Fine. But if my boy dies—”
“Then it’ll be on that sick son of a bitch, not on me.” Mason’s phone rang just before he could lose his temper, but that was forgotten the moment he saw Sandra’s name. “What is it?” he asked, holding the phone to his ear.
“Can you come over? It’s Amy.”
A sweat broke out on Mason’s forehead. Could things get any worse? “What happened? Is she hurt?”
“Just…” Sandra hadn’t sounded this disappointed since she’d announced she wanted a divorce. “It’s better you come over here. Please.”
Mason sighed. “Won’t be long.” He hung up and headed for the door. “Two days, Mr. Carter,” he called over his shoulder, “and I’ll get your boy back.”
Bill caught up to Mason just as he reached his car. “Will I see you at home or at the ceremony tomorrow?”
Mason paused. “Ceremony?”
“Missy Daniels’s funeral. You are going, right?”
Goddamnit. How many more hurdles before he could breach the killer’s home? Knowing his luck, it would be a dead end anyway. He opened the door and climbed in. “Is that tomorrow? Jesus. All right, I’ll be there,” he said, slamming the door and speeding toward his old home.
Mason was having a tough time juggling the case and his family woes.
As he raced toward the place he used to call home, he pictured all sorts of scenarios for when he’d arrive. As usual, the first was the most dramatic: the killer had been there. But then it evolved into other nightmares, like there had been an accident, or some other medical emergency. As he pulled up at the end of the drive and spotted the patrol cars, he knew he could stop wondering and start worrying.
Climbing the steps with apprehension, Mason reached the front door and let himself in. Same old Sandra, never locking the front door. When he entered the hallway, he stopped short, confused by what he saw.
“Don’t hate me, Dad.”
“Amy?”
His daughter was almost unrecognizable. A number of piercings sparkled on her ghostly-pale face, and her once-beautiful blonde hair had been dyed jet black. Her choice of clothes had changed dramatically, too—tatty laddered stockings and a torn black T-shirt.
“Oh, honey. What’ve you done?”
Sandra entered the hallway with a police officer at her side. Mason had been the man’s superior back on the force, and they’d always seen eye to eye. He tilted his cap. “Mr. Black.”
“Rogers, right?”
The officer nodded. “That’s right. Sir, I hate to have to tell you that your daughter was caught inside somebody’s house. She’d broken in with a friend and was stealing.”
Mason could barely believe what he was hearing. “That’s not like her.”
“It’s not that simple!” Amy yelled and banged her way up the stairs and slammed a door. It was as if she’d been taken away and replaced with some angry brat.
There must be more to this. There has to be. “Officer, thank you for your time. I’ll have words with her, and it won’t happen again. Sandra, see this gentleman out.”
The policeman looked as though he wanted to say more, but Sandra’s commanding hand on his shoulder led him out. He would’ve been a fool to say no to her.
“Go on up,” Sandra said, her distaste for him no less evident.
Mason headed up the stairs and rapped on the bedroom door. “Amy? I’m coming in, sweetheart.” He opened up and saw his daughter lying on the bed, her face buried in a pillow. He closed the door behind him and took a seat next to her. “Tell me.”
Amy sobbed and turned her head. Her mascara was running, smudged across her cheeks. “I had a picture of you in my school locker. This girl took it and wouldn’t give it back. The teachers didn’t care, so I did what I had to do to get it back.”
“That’s… Honey, there’re hundreds of photos of me.”
“But this one was from you.”
Mason knew the photo she was talking about. It was from his younger days, when he and Evie were at college together, arm in arm. It’d been his favorite photo, taken when their parents were still alive.
“Well, here.” He leaned to her bedside table and took her phone, flicked on the camera, and raised it up high. “How’s this?” He snapped the photo and handed the phone to her.
Amy giggled as she took it. “It’s great, Dad.”
“Listen, you can’t just go breaking into people’s houses. You’re smarter than that.”
“I know. I just got desperate.”
“If you get desperate, you come to me. You know I’ll do anything for you.”
Amy climbed to her knees and threw her arms around her father. “Thanks, Dad.”
Mason held her close. After all he’d seen lately, it was nice to be back in this house, even if just for a moment. More than anything, he was just glad Amy was safe. “What’s with the clothes anyway?”
“Don’t you like it?” She pulled away.
“I do, but it’s not you, is it?”
Amy looked thoughtful, then shook her head. “I guess not.”
After saying goodbye and closing the door, Mason stomped down the stairs to where Sandra stood beside Joshua. “Thank you,” she tried to say, but he only nudged his way past.
“Some role model you are.”
Mason went to his car and rubbed his eyes. He knew he was in no fit state to approach a serial killer. Besides, if he was reckless and stormed the building and the killer wasn’t there, the Carter twin would die for sure. And then there was the matter of Missy Daniels’s funeral.
Go to bed, he told himself. Tomorrow is going to suck.
Funerals had never been inviting, but the rain didn’t help. Neither did having to watch a mother bury her eight-year-old daughter.
Joanna Daniels was dressed all in black, as was everyone else. She stood over the coffin with a flower in her hand. Mason watched her lower it into the ground and say goodbye.
“Earth to earth,” the priest went on. “Ashes to ashes.”
Mason could feel himself burning up inside. He thought of the man responsible, the ill-named Lullaby Killer, who’d taken these kids for nothing more than a little fun. It was all a
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