Missing, Adam Nicholls [book recommendations website txt] 📗
- Author: Adam Nicholls
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“Over here.” Bill led him to the nearest wall, where something had been scrawled in blood.
“Surprised you didn’t draw the drapes. You’re putting on quite a display there.”
“Cap doesn’t want anything touched on the scene until forensics are done. It’s not what I’d have done, but we have to follow the rules.”
Mason, trying not to let his curious eye sway toward the girl, followed Bill and looked directly at the wall. He mouthed the words as he read what was inscribed in blood: OFTEN THROUGH MY CURTAINS PEEP.
“Twinkle, Twinkle?” Bill asked, beating him to the punch.
“Right.” Mason knew he shouldn’t do it, but it was a necessity, and he looked at the girl’s hand for confirmation that this was the Lullaby Killer. When he saw a single drop of blood leak from where the girl’s finger had once been, he thought of something.
“Can I get a black light?”
“You think—”
“Please, Bill, it’s been a long day. Just get me a black light.”
Bill whistled to a nearby techie and made the request. It wasn’t long before Mason was turning it on and holding it up against the text.
“We know it’s her blood,” Bill said. “We swabbed it already.”
Mason shined the UV against the wall and looked all around the area. “But you didn’t see this, did you?” He pointed at a small handprint on the wall. It was the size of a young child’s.
“We missed that,” Bill confessed with shame.
“I don’t think it’s the girl’s.”
“What? Why?”
Mason demonstrated against the air. “I think someone else did this, leaning against the wall while they wrote with the severed finger. Check the prints, see if they match.” Mason handed the black light over and took a few steps back. This guy is sick.
Mason had barely accepted what he’d seen before Captain Cox appeared at his side. “What do you make of the parents?” she asked. She’d always respected his opinion and had no trouble telling him as much, but he thought she might have a clue of her own by now. After all, she was the youngest person in San Francisco to have ever made captain.
“I haven’t spoken to them yet.”
Cox screwed up her face. “Wait, you don’t know?”
Mason shook his head, sensing this was about to get a whole lot worse.
The captain walked him to two nearby gurneys, unzipped the body bags and showed the faces of a young couple, one of which had a gunshot wound in the center of his forehead, the woman with one in her stomach.
“These were found here?” Mason leaned in close, desperate to find some sort of explanation.
“Right over there on the couch. Still think this is the Lullaby Killer?”
“Without a doubt. I just… This isn’t like him. It’s as if he was rushed, or—”
“Or what?”
Mason was drowning out the sounds of everyone around him. It was the way he’d trained himself to make a scenario from a jumble of clues in order to reach a conclusion. Suddenly it twigged. “The boy.”
“What?” asked Bill and Captain Cox in unison.
“It was the boy.” Mason looked up, feeling more sickened than he ever had before. “I think he made Ryan Carter do this.”
Ryan was shown into the dark room. The door slammed shut behind him.
“Wasn’t that great, boy?” the killer asked him, but it sounded rhetorical.
Ryan felt an unfamiliar feeling inside, a distasteful cocktail of sadness and shame. How had be been persuaded to do such a horrible thing? In that moment it had seemed like a good idea, but now? His father would never be able to look at him if he found out what he’d done.
“Hey, I’m talking to you.”
Ryan shrugged, taking a seat on the floor where he knew he belonged.
The killer looked down at him like he’d been insulted. “You don’t feel smart? You don’t feel powerful? What the hell’s a matter with ya?”
“I feel… bad.”
“Well, tough shit. You did something today that your dad could never be proud of because he only gives a damn about your sister. But listen here,” the killer said as he crouched in front of him, “I’m proud of you.”
Ryan smiled at him, but only because he knew it was the easiest way of shutting him up. By now he was learning the best ways to avoid further aggression. “Thank you.”
The killer rose. “Good boy. Now stay here and watch TV. I need to run out and do something. But don’t you get up off that floor, ya hear?” He switched on the ancient TV and headed out, closing the door.
He didn’t lock it. Ryan sat staring at the door, ignoring the cartoons on the television. I could try now, unless… Is it a test? That hopeful part of him said to get up and try, but the angel on his shoulder told him he’d better stay put.
But it can’t hurt to check, can it?
His hand hurt as he pushed himself off the floor and crept across the room. Perhaps just a little peek won’t matter, he convinced himself. If the killer was still there, he could just say that he was making sure he was safe inside.
Yeah, that’s not a bad idea.
Embracing the fear, he wrapped his good hand around the knob. Trying his damndest not to shake, he twisted it and gave it a pull. To his surprise, it clicked open, and a cold autumn breeze assaulted his face.
Ryan poked his head through the door and winced.
Up the walkway, the killer stood enjoying a cigarette, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. He had his back to the room but could turn at any moment. And then the punishments would begin.
Pushing the door to a close, Ryan pondered how fast he could run. If only he could make it to the street, he could cry for help and get out of there before the killer even noticed.
But it was risky.
Well, Ryan asked himself, what’s it going to be?
It was the hardest decision of his life, but it was his only hope.
Ryan darted out of the room as fast as his legs could carry him. He was barely off the property when he heard the killer shouting after him.
“Boy? Boy! Jesus Christ.”
He didn’t want to look back, to see the man catching him up. All he could do was ignore the shooting pains in his legs and push forward.
Ryan hit the street, bare on each side here but with a variety of bars and houses farther up the road. He tried his hardest to sprint faster, to reach the public places sooner. And then he heard the RV behind him.
The killer sounded the horn, startling Ryan. It was close behind him, but how close? Close enough to hear the engine roaring, that was for sure. The cold breeze brought tears to Ryan’s eyes as he ran, making snot dribble from his nostrils, but he was almost at the lively street.
“Help!” he screamed, realizing with horror there was not another human being in sight.
The RV closed in behind him, tormenting him rather than stopping him.
Should I stop? The devils of simple submission were playing a number on him, telling him the easy option was just to return and accept his punishment. No, I need to get home, even if my dad still hates me.
Ryan’s toe hit the curb, sending him tumbling to the ground. He brought his hands up just in time to guard his face, but his knees and elbows took an agonizing, damaging blow. He winced, hearing the RV revving even closer and the killer shouting out the window.
“Don’t make me get out of this vehicle!”
Panicking, Ryan picked himself up and disappeared into a nearby alleyway, not stopping to dust himself off. As he rounded the corner, he saw something only God could have sent, to save him from his captor.
“Help!” he screamed to the two men at the end of the alley. “Please help!”
The men stepped forward. One was black and wearing sports
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