Missing, Adam Nicholls [book recommendations website txt] 📗

“No.”

“You look like a cop.”

“I’m not a cop.”

Scanning his features once more, she held out her palm until he slapped fifty dollars into it. “Follow me,” she said, then turned and walked toward a rundown building with aggressive graffiti decorating its walls and windows.

Mason gave her the benefit of the doubt and went after her. Inside was a tall, narrow staircase, which went up five different flights. Each landing was littered with shabbily dressed young men, most of whom had their lips nuzzled into girls’ necks. Mason clenched his trench coat, careful not to let it flap into somebody’s way. He’d been to these sorts of places before: there was always someone looking for an excuse.

“Wait here.” The hooker stopped, then disappeared for a few moments before returning and waving her hand.

Mason went in, struck by the painfully strong smell of marijuana right away—bad quality, too. “Who set the fire?” he jested, but the woman’s passive expression didn’t falter.

They came into a large open room thick with smoke, neon, and swarms of people dressed only in black. All eyes followed him as he strode across the room and approached the desk, which appeared to be the highlight of the room.

“What have we here?” Sitting at the desk was a black man, perhaps early thirties, with a badly trimmed goatee and a dark beret. He looked at Mason with obvious skepticism; a raised eyebrow here, a chin rub there.

“I’m looking for a kid who might’ve been through here,” Mason told him, handing over the photo. “Nobody’s in trouble. But he was recently found dead, and we’re trying to pick up a trail.”

“We?” The man looked up at the prostitute, then back at Mason. “You a cop?”

“Private investigator,” Mason corrected.

“Shit, man.” He sunk his face into his palms before looking up at the girl. “Patty, what the hell do you think you’re doing, bringing PIs up in here?”

“I didn’t think—”

“You never do.” The man pushed back from his desk and shot to his feet. “Get out of my sight.”

“She thought I was a cop and she still let me up here,” Mason offered, throwing a wrench in the works. It was never his intention to anger this man—he only wanted information—but this chick had been rude to him, and he would never let that slide.

“What?” she screamed. “He’s lying! Rosco, I—”

“Go, before I lose my temper.”

She stormed out, spitting at Mason’s feet as she passed, but he didn’t stop grinning.

“Now, this boy you’re looking for…” The man—Rosco—slammed his palm onto the desk, and all chatter around them stopped. “What the hell’s it got to do with you? Ain’t the police already looking into it?”

Mason cleared his throat. “Not over here, they’re not. And if I get what I want, they’ll have no need to be here, either. Do we understand each other?”

Rosco sighed, smiling uncomfortably at the eavesdropping partyers. Finally, he threw his hands up. “Look, I seen the kid around, but he was only window-shopping, if you catch my drift. Some say he went off with some dame last night, but she wasn’t one of mine. So, if you don’t mind…” He raised his hands toward the door.

Mason examined his expression. He seemed sincere. Once he’d accepted it was a dead end, he leaned over, grabbed the photo, and headed for the door. “Thank you for your time.”

As soon as he stepped outside, Mason cursed under his breath. This was his only lead, and now here he was, alone, in a shady neighborhood, and with no information at all.

Once again, he found himself fumbling around his pockets for cigarettes.

What the hell is wrong with me?

GET YOUR COPY HERE

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Afterword

Let me start by saying a huge thank you for making it through to the end. It means so much to me that you found this book worth your time, and that’s the kind of thing that keeps me writing.

Some of you are new to my work, but those who aren’t will have recognized this story. Missing was originally published as Hush back in 2016 and was (somehow) even more violent. Some of the other changes to this title have been subtle, while some serious components to the story have been completely realigned. You’re probably asking yourself why such significant events have been altered, and the answer is this: it’s what the market demands.

If you’re on my mailing list, you’ll know that I’m currently going through a major relaunch for some of my older books. Some are getting new titles, and all of them are having their covers and blurbs redone. Furthermore, they’re all being translated to US English (as opposed to the original UK English). This is because more of my readership comes from the United States, and in the interest of keeping a roof over my head, I need to cater to the good folks of America.

So, what’s next? Well, after this trilogy is published I’ll be working on brand-new stories of mystery and suspense, which I simply can’t wait to get to you. My head is buzzing with ideas, and I’ve never been so excited to get them down on paper.

If you’re still with me, let me thank you again for taking the time to read this book. I sincerely hope you found the stories worth your time, and perhaps even subscribe to my mailing list or like my Facebook page to keep in touch. I’m always eager to talk with fans.

After all, you’re who I write for.

My best,

Adam Nicholls

About the Author

Adam Nicholls grew up in the southwest of England, where he studied creative writing while working a variety of full-time jobs. When his Mason Black series was first published, he quickly became a bestseller and then went on to create a name for himself in the thriller genre. Adam now lives with his wife in Bristol.

You can join his newsletter and be the first to hear about news, discounts and competitions by clicking the following link:

www.subscribepage.com/adamnichollsbooks

CONTACT

adamnichollsauthor@gmail.com

www.adamnichollsauthor.com