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game to him, at least until he’d asked for the money.

As the ceremony drew to a close and the downpour worsened, Joanna Daniels spotted Mason at the back of the crowd. She even looked pretty when she cried, but the beauty and energy she’d once had would never return.

The killer has done this to her, Mason reminded himself.

Joanna approached him, close enough that she was under his umbrella. She was shaking, if not from the cold, then in recognition of her loss. But the way she looked at him—without a hint of warmth—suggested deeper levels of emotion. “Have you caught him?”

“Not yet, ma’am. We’re still working on—”

Her shoulder snapped back so fast he didn’t see the slap coming. It struck his cheek hard enough to turn his head, and he clutched his face in surprise.

“It’s your job, Mr. Black.” Joanna began to sob uncontrollably now. “All you had to do was your job, and my little girl would still be alive. This is your fault.”

An old man—could have been her father—emerged from behind and eased her away, shooting Mason a look of contempt. It said: You shouldn’t be here.

Mason had felt the outburst on more than just a physical level.

What if she’s right? What if this really is my fault? If I’d just worked harder…

The crowd dispersed, acting as if they hadn’t noticed the drama unfolding at the back. People went their separate ways, some to their cars, others walking down the path of the cemetery. They all had their heads down, both out of sadness and respect.

Only one person remained in front of Mason—he hadn’t realized she’d come until now, but if anyone could understand how he was feeling, it was Evie.

He just stood there, lost for words.

His sister only looked at him, walked forward, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t let that get to you. She’s just a woman in tremendous pain. This is not your fault. You hear me?”

Mason stared at her before nodding. He didn’t really believe this wasn’t a consequence of his own lack of action, but it was a damn sight easier than arguing with the great Evelyn Black. If anything, the slap had served as encouragement to do what needed to be done. “I have somewhere to be. Do you need a ride?”

“Thank you.”

Careful not to slide through the mud, Mason and Evie headed toward his car. Although he’d never admit it, he was glad to have her around.

Chapter Forty-Six

All conversation was saved until the engine stopped. But now it was impossible to keep it locked up inside. Mason craned his neck. “Where have you been?”

Evie lowered her head, wiping her glasses dry with a tissue. “I’ve been around. Stuff just got in the way, you know? It happens.”

Mason wasn’t buying it. “I’m not a fool, Evie. At least not when it comes to you. I know it takes something big to keep you away from a case, especially one you fought so hard to get involved in.”

Evie slid her glasses back on and watched the droplets of rain rolling down the window. “I had an email from an anonymous sender. Whoever it was, they were threatening Amelia.”

“What?” Mason sat up straight.

“Yep. Apparently, if I didn’t back off, she would suffer. So, I went to see her mother… her adoptive mother. She’s safe now. That’s all that matters.”

“Christ, Evie. You should’ve said something.”

“You know I couldn’t. You’d have freaked out, like you are now.”

They fell silent as Mason accepted she was right. Nobody knew about Amelia. Sure, it was on file somewhere, but spoken words were only between the two of them. “This email. Was it from him?”

“It’s hard to say. Could be some kid getting his rocks off, but I didn’t want to chance it. It was signed off by somebody named Brahm.”

As soon as Mason pieced it together, he shook his head, pushing his tongue into the back of his front teeth. “Unbelievable.”

Evie shook her head. “What is?”

“Brahms’s Lullaby? Man, this guy’s ego is off the charts.”

“Wow. Okay.” Evie drew a deep breath. “Well, how do we know it’s not just some kid goofing around, like I said?”

“Right, and how many pimply teenagers know Amelia is your daughter?” For this guy to do all that he’d done, and now to threaten his family? That was unacceptable. Mason would soon put a stop to that. He put the key in the ignition. “So, if you know the girl’s safe, do you want back on the case?”

Her hand had already been on the door handle, but now she hesitated. “Fine,” she said. “But I’m not writing a damn thing about it. And only if you really, really need me.”

Mason grinned, started up the engine and punched the killer’s address back into the GPS. “Then buckle up.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Ryan accepted the Big Mac without hesitation. It was crappy food, but when you haven’t eaten in two days you’d take anything. The killer kept the fries as a reward for having collected the RV without being seen. Wouldn’t want to spoil ya.

Wolfing down the burger in his one good hand, Ryan closed his eyes and twitched with each gulping bite. He was making a hell of a noise, struggling for breath while he took bite after bite like a hungry animal.

The killer knelt down and stared, watching with fascination. “Why don’t you like your father?” he finally asked, trying to understand.

Ryan stopped eating and looked at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“You said earlier you didn’t like your father. Why is that?”

He looked lost, as though a particular answer was expected. “I just don’t.”

The killer huffed and sat cross-legged in front of him. This was one way of killing time until the ransom was paid, but boy, did he miss stalking his prey. “Everybody loves their father, unless they’re given good reason not to. What’s your reason? Tell me, boy.”

Scrunching up the hamburger wrapper and dropping it in front of him, the boy burped and covered his mouth with a closed fist. “He likes my sister way more.”

This was alarming in every sense of the word. What if he wouldn’t pay? What if he’d kept the girl instead? Would he have been able to demand more? Nah, that’s ridiculous. He’ll pay. “What’s so special about her?”

“That’s what I always ask myself,” Ryan said, as if in agreement.

This one seemed incredibly easy to manipulate. Maybe he can be of use?

“She’s much smarter than I am. Gets all the good grades at school.”

“Naw, I wouldn’t say that. I think you’re plenty smart.”

“Really?”

“Sure! Smart, powerful. Here, let me show you something.” The Lullaby Killer stood and rummaged through his pocket for the handcuff key. He took two steps back and placed it on the carpet, just out of the kid’s reach. “If you can get this key, you won’t have to stay cuffed anymore. Deal?”

Ryan Carter hesitated, as if it might be a trick. But like all tempting tricks, he couldn’t resist the urge to prove himself. With his free hand, he pulled off his shoe and held the lace in his fist. Leaning as far as he could, he swung the shoe toward the key and tried to hook it.

“See, that’s it, smarter than that sister of yours, huh?”

The kid was licking his lips, trying desperately to reach it. When at last it hooked, he dragged the key toward him, picking it up and fumbling it into the cuffs. They fell open with a clink, and Ryan was free.

“Good work!” The killer laughed to encourage him. So fucking easy! Even the kid was smiling. “See? Now, why would you let some fool like your daddy tell you there’s no brain in that head of yours, huh?”

Although Ryan was grinning now, his head was lowered. “I’m still not tough, either. Not like Kylie. She’s tough and smart. That’s what Dad will say.”

The killer kneeled to meet his eye level. “But you’re smarter than she is. You just proved it, didn’t you? And it’s not about being tough. It’s about being smart. I bet you… No. That’s too risky.” He shook his head and turned until he felt the expected hand on his sleeve.

“What?” The boy was far too inquisitive for his own good.

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