Missing, Adam Nicholls [book recommendations website txt] 📗
- Author: Adam Nicholls
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“It was mostly Evie, you know.” Mason patted her on the back, pushing her into the spotlight, and stomped back toward his Mustang.
“Where’re you going?” Bill called after him.
“The hospital. That boy needs to give a statement when he comes around.” It wasn’t something he was proud of, but Mason understood they’d just deprived a serial killer of a million bucks and knew that if that were him, he’d be looking for vengeance.
“Christ, buddy. Take a day off. Recharge your batteries.”
Mason got in the car and saw Evie running around to climb in. “He’s right,” she said as she buckled up. “I mean, I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth whether you want me to or not. But you need to slow down from time to time—think things through.”
“You really think so?”
“Sure.”
Mason rubbed his eyes. “Good, then you can follow me to the hospital. I’ll take the day off when I’ve stopped this maniac.” With that, he revved the car to life and sped toward the hospital to question the nine-year-old killer.
Night had fallen by the time Ryan Carter opened his eyes. They were wandering, lost, looking around as if to identify his surroundings. When asked if he was prepared to talk, he stared with vacant eyes before giving a shallow nod of the head.
Mason led with the simple questions while Bill and Owen stood quietly at the back of the room. The deal was that he could get whatever he needed from the boy before the police swooped in with their special brand of questioning.
“How are you feeling?” Mason asked, settling him gently.
A quick adjustment and a wince. “It hurts.”
“That will pass. Ryan, I need you to tell me everything you can, all right?”
The boy nodded.
“Did you speak with the killer?”
“Yes.”
Mason removed a sweet picture of Thea Peters, the girl who’d been hanged from the curtain pole only one day earlier. “Do you recognize this girl?”
The heart rate monitor beeped as if it to shout, objection!
Ryan’s lips moved without a sound, his eyes filling with tears as he shook his head. “Sorry.”
“Listen to me, Ryan. You’re not in any trouble, but you need to tell us what happened.”
A pause, then a wet sniff. “He made me do it.”
The boy couldn’t have been talking about hanging the girl—there was no way a nine-year-old boy had the strength to haul her up that high, especially if she’d been resisting. It was the writing on the wall that Mason was accusing him of.
“What did he make you do, Ryan?”
Ryan’s eyes rolled up as if remembering something he didn’t want to. “Often through my curtains peep,” he said. “Often through my curtains peep.”
Mason’s eyes went to the kid’s hand that lacked a pinkie. How could he do this to such an innocent kid? “It’s okay, Ryan. Calm down. What can you tell me about the killer? Did he say where he was going?”
“No.” Ryan rolled his head away.
“Did he say what his plans were?”
“No.”
“What about the next victim? Has he chosen yet?”
“I don’t know!” Ryan screamed a shrill, piercing shriek. “I don’t know! I don’t know! Just leave me alone!”
Owen Carter came lunging forward to cradle his son, who was thrashing in protest. The heart rate monitor was beeping off the charts, and the bed shook like it was possessed.
Mason went to the back of the room, out the way. I pushed him too far.
“You’d better leave, Mr. Black,” Owen said. “Thank you for your help, but he’s had enough.” He shot Mason a cold look, but Mason didn’t blame him.
“We’re putting surveillance on your house for the next week,” Bill told Owen while holding the door for Mason. “If you need anything more from us, you let me know.”
Outside the room, where nurses passed every couple of seconds in heavy hospital traffic, Bill patted Mason on the back. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know.”
“You look pretty drained,” Evie said, getting up from a chair in the corridor. “Will you please go home and get some sleep? I know you’re determined—you have nothing to prove there—but you’re useless unless your eyes are wide open.”
I guess she has a point. Mason tried to think of a way he could accept defeat with grace. He turned and headed for the exit. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
“Swing by in the morning,” Evie called after him.
Mason gave a thumbs-up but didn’t turn back. Sure, he could go home and try and sleep it off, but he had a strong suspicion the horrifying look on Ryan’s face would haunt him all night long. Desperate to avoid a night of agitated tossing and turning, he went to the Mustang, knowing that the next stop of the night was not his last.
Rather than heading to Bill’s, Mason had dared to go to his own home, stopping to grab a cheap bouquet of flowers on the way. Sandra would think he wanted something from her, but he just wanted to familiarize himself with the only life he’d known for the past decade.
Now he stood at the front door, unwilling to use his key—mostly dreading she’d changed the locks. With a steady knock and a glance at his Rolex, Mason stood waiting.
Eventually, the door popped open. Mason pushed the flowers into Sandra’s chest and let himself in, heading straight to the kitchen to pour himself a drink.
Sandra caught up to him. “Sure, invite yourself in,” she said.
“I just came to talk. You owe me that.” The Jack Daniels spilled into the tumbler as he cleared his throat and prepared himself for the first satisfying gulp.
“Because you got me flowers? They can’t buy me back.”
“I’m not trying to buy you back. Just… ease off the throttle, will you?”
Sandra drew a deep breath and looked away. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Thank you for the flowers.” She went to the cupboard to fetch a vase.
Just then, Joshua walked into the room, looking like a deer in headlights. “What’re you doing here?” he said after composing himself. “Get out of our house.”
Mason felt his cheeks burn up, but there were bigger things than Joshua right now. He hid his clenched fists under the counter. My house, you prick! My house!
“It’s okay,” Sandra said, cutting the hostility out off Joshua’s glare. “We’re only talking. Just go upstairs. I’ll be up when I’m ready.”
Glaring at Mason for a few more seconds—the fear in his eyes was impossible to disguise—Joshua left the kitchen and stomped up the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the house.
“Wait. Did you tie his shoelaces?” Mason asked, grinning.
“Don’t, Mason. Come on, tell me about the case.”
They both took a seat at the island, sharing a drink as he filled her in on everything that had happened so far. For a few minutes, it felt as if he was home again, and his wife was there to hear about his workday. Over the years, she’d been his unofficial shrink. Now, even if just for a momentary lapse, she had resumed the role.
“I really hope you catch him soon,” she said. “You deserve that peace.”
Mason stared into his near-empty glass. “Thanks. So, change of subject: do you think I could take Amy to see a movie tomorrow night? It’d be good to spend some time with her, with all this going on.”
Sandra nodded slowly, as if realizing she didn’t mind that much. “Sure. She’s in bed, so I’ll ask her in the morning, but I’m sure she’d love to.” A smile followed, albeit a small one.
Just ask what you want to ask, the nagging voice in Mason’s head told him. “Sandra?”
“Uh-huh?”
“About us—”
“Don’t do that,” she said.
“Do what?”
“Don’t ruin a good moment.”
“How can I not? I just want to know if this is what you really want.” Mason wasn’t even sure if he wanted her back, but when a ship sprung a leak,
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