Let Me In, Adam Nicholls [ebooks that read to you txt] 📗

and as Morgan mimicked his line of sight, he thought that if he were to ambush somebody that was probably where he’d do it. It was the perfect place of concealment, giving someone the chance of leaping out for one easy strike.

But Morgan didn’t think it was likely.

Nick Hansen had made his demands more than clear: he was to enter the church alone, sacrificing himself in exchange for Rachel’s safety. Morgan knew the deal and was willing to go with it, but it would be better if they both walked out of there alive.

It was the only reason he’d let him tag along.

“When you get out of the car,” Morgan said, ducking his head to study the church windows where he could’ve sworn he’d seen movement, “be sure to leave the door ajar. A second slam will give you away, and I don’t want Rachel to suffer the consequences.”

Gary nodded and reached for his cell phone. “What will you do?”

“Me? I’m going in there.”

“That’s rough.” Gary blew out a long breath, like a balloon emptying the air from its rubbery insides. “All right, I’ll make the call. You just try to keep him busy for as long as you can. Are you sure I can’t persuade you to take my gun?”

Morgan thought about it for only a second. The idea of having that safety was comforting, but the truth was he was terrified of guns. Even if he wasn’t, and supposing he could land a direct hit on the killer, there was no guarantee he could do it before Nick hurt Rachel. It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. “Just stay low and do what you need to do. Remember, if this goes well you’ll have your vengeance, and Carrie Whittle can rest in peace.”

There was a moment of silence while Gary lowered his chin to his chest. It was as if he were praying, the memory of Carrie haunting him further. They’d come so far since Gary had asked a simple favor of Morgan, and now here they were: at the end of the road with everything on the line. It was a job well done, just with disastrous results.

“Be careful,” Gary said, opening the door and finally sliding out of the car.

Morgan hurried through the mud to reach the church door, the bitter wind brushing his cheeks. Twisting the door’s giant ring, he shoved it open with his shoulder to reveal a large, dark room where rubble littered the floor. There were toppled candlesticks, torn cloths strewn across the expanse of the interior. There was even a wrecked confession box. Morgan suspected this place had either housed squatters or fallen victim to teenage boredom. Whichever it was, they’d done a great job at disrespecting the place. It was almost completely destroyed.

Morgan stepped farther in, pushing the door shut behind him. He stopped before it clicked, leaving a thin, vertical line where the air squeezed through with a quiet whisper. If anyone was coming for him, he wanted them to be able to get inside quick enough, and that extra inch might be all they needed to save a life.

Now inside, his legs violently shaking with both harsh cold and raw fear, Morgan took careful steps over the rubble and rounded the corner of the small greeting area. One row of scattered pews came into view, their surfaces glowing purple and yellow under the gleam of moonlight bleeding through the stained-glass windows. Morgan inched toward them, petrified of what he might see as he went farther in.

His life was about to end, and he could only hope Rachel’s hadn’t.

“I’m here,” he called, his deep voice booming across the church like a thunderclap.

There was no reply.

Morgan swallowed a hard, dry lump. “I did what you wanted—I got here on time.”

Had he? Now was the only time he could check his watch. He pressed the button, the face lighting up with a dim glow to present the current time. He’d just made it, with only thirty seconds to spare. But he had made it.

When Nick Hansen failed to reveal himself, Morgan was overcome with panic. It occurred to him that he might’ve arrived at the wrong church, or that the killer had lured him here for a different reason altogether. New, terrifying scenarios played out in front of him, and he realized now just how little control he had over the situation. He felt like a little boy playing a big man’s game. It was something he could never win.

“You came alone?”

Morgan spun around, the voice shooting down his spine like a cold sweat. In the doorway on the far side, a figure loomed in the darkness. The man was a shadow, not too tall but undeniably threatening. The outline of a gun extended the black silhouette of his hand, targeting Morgan in such a casual way that it was horrifying.

“Yes,” Morgan told him, glancing around. The fact he couldn’t see Rachel made his insides hurt. He wanted to ask, but Hansen’s answer was the thing he feared most. Had he made the biggest mistake of his life by coming here? There was only one way to find out, but he could only do so with the dry croak of a whisper as the words slipped from his cotton-like mouth. “Where is she?”

The shadow took a slow step forward, his footstep echoing through the church. It came clear of the doorway, stepping into the moonlight and revealing the face of the disturbing killer Morgan had seen only a few nights ago. Only this time Hansen didn’t have the twisted expression of confusion or the white sheet of panic on his cheeks.

This time, he wore the sly grin of a fox who’d infiltrated the coop.

Morgan panicked, his heart drumming against his chest. The skin grew hot under his collar, the worst of nightmares flashing before his eyes. He balled his hands into fists, squeezing until his fingernails dug into his sweaty palms. He was beyond tiptoeing around it—the urgency filled his lungs in a throaty yell. “Where’s Rachel?”

But Nick only laughed, raising the gun higher to target Morgan’s face as his smile widened into something more sinister. It raised a thousand questions, each one tearing at Morgan’s heart like a chisel chipping at stone. It was the face of a man who held a great number of secrets, but among them all was one clear fact.

He was here to kill again.