Missing - Adam Nicholls (ready player one ebook txt) 📗
- Author: Adam Nicholls
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Book online «Missing - Adam Nicholls (ready player one ebook txt) 📗». Author Adam Nicholls
Two minutes.
Mason couldn’t check his phone again. Every second was vital.
With the clock ticking and his adrenaline at an all-time high, he pushed the car to its limit and pierced through the darkness.
The wind howled as spatters of rain assaulted his face, numbing his cheeks and ears. It was unbearably cold, but worth it just to prove a point.
“Sit quiet,” Wendell said, setting up his climactic display. Nothing had ever been more exhilarating than this. Sure, he’d hurt and killed the real little shits. This girl didn’t seem like one of them. She seemed smart but not enough to grow up and become a bitchy manipulator. A tease. She was pretty but didn’t seem to know it. She was… normal.
But she still has to die.
The girl was sobbing, too—trying to hide it, but definitely sobbing.
“Stop that stupid noise,” he demanded, tightening the rope. It was difficult enough to get ready in time. Mr. Black would soon be at the target location, and he hadn’t even finished up here yet.
“My dad will come for me,” the girl protested, feigning toughness.
“He’d better.” This was everything the killer wanted. This would be the last time anyone tried to fuck with him. Why did anyone even try to stop me? I was doing a good thing, for crying out loud. Why should these little bastards get to enjoy their childhoods?
“He’s going to kick your ass.”
Wendell was losing patience. He went to his tool bag and retrieved the pliers. “I was going to do this last, but since it’s the only way to shut you up…” He stepped forward and pulled her from the side of the van. She was surprisingly heavy for a girl her age, and the kicking around didn’t help. Halfway to the edge of the cliff, he gave up and hurled her to the rocky ground.
“What are you doing?” she asked, scrambling backward. The tears came again.
“Little girls need to be punished.” He lunged forward and grabbed her wrist, forcing her hand into a steady position while she screamed and thrashed, trying to hit him.
She wasn’t strong enough to stop him.
“Please!” Desperation laced her screams.
The killer placed the metal ridges on either side of her pinkie finger and squeezed until she cried. He held still, letting the fear and pain linger as he marveled at how much control he had. Never had he felt so powerful, so godlike and in control.
“Ah, you ain’t worth it, sweetheart,” he said and shoved her into the dirt.
The girl rolled to her side and spewed into a puddle, clutching her hand.
“Now, shut the hell up. I got work to do.”
“You’re a monster,” the girl said, weeping.
“Oh, honey. No, no. I’m the product of a monster.” Wendell thought about his home being invaded by Mason Black. “The real criminal is trying to stop me.”
Bill was driving as fast as he could while Evie kept lookout beside him. “He’s getting farther away,” he said, shifting gears with a stern look.
“Just do what you can.”
They’d jumped into the car as soon as Mason had left the house. Marvin Wendell had told him to come alone, but they couldn’t allow it. If only they could hang back and out of view, Amy might remain unharmed. But if Mason was in a tight spot, Evie would never forgive herself for refusing to act.
“We’re going to lose him if we don’t go faster.” Bill protested that they should catch up, but Evie remained firm.
“Stay steady.”
Although Bill was right, and they did in fact lose sight of Mason’s taillights in the distance, they at least knew they weren’t far behind.
They drove farther up the hill, where strong gusts of wind buffeted the car. Evie knew they were near Cliffside now, and they would locate her brother in no time at all. “Switch off your lights.”
“What? It’s pitch-black out here, are you cra—”
“Just do it.” As soon as she spotted the stationary Mustang on the hill, she pointed up at it, which motivated Bill to obey her. “Stop the car.” They screeched to a halt and she climbed out, running up the hill in the dark toward Mason’s car.
Please be inside, please be inside.
Mason was good at taking care of himself, and Evie wouldn’t have to worry there. But when Amy was involved, someone was going to get hurt. Evie only hoped it would be the Lullaby Killer.
It took a few minutes to reach the car, trudging uphill against the wind and in the heavy shower. After clawing her way to the top, she could see the door was open and the engine was shut off. Only the dome light lent any illumination to the vacant interior.
“Shit!” she said, getting drenched in the rain. She looked back down the hill, where Bill was watching her from the dry safety of his own car.
Evie turned back around, and a light on the car seat caught her eye. She leaned in, reached for it, and gripped the cell phone in her hand. There was a picture on the screen. It was Amy, and she stood on the edge of the cliff. Her lip was curved in as if she was crying.
“Son of a bitch,” Evie muttered.
Mason was lost to her, and Amy was in big trouble. It was clear to her now: in spite of her efforts, the Lullaby Killer was going to win.
Mason’s hands were up in surrender as he stared at the end of the gun.
“Take off your coat,” Wendell instructed. “I want to see that gun of yours.”
After all these years, it felt surreal to see the infamous Lullaby Killer in the flesh. Mason had expected nothing more than the ordinary-looking man he’d seen in the photographs, but over time he had built up an image of a demon in his mind. Seeing him in person now, standing face-to-face, he did indeed look just like a regular man—save for the missing finger on his left hand.
“If you insist.” Mason slid off his trench coat, and it flumped to the wet ground. His black T-shirt was soaked through and clung to his skin. He had to fight not to shiver or show any weakness.
Wendell looked at the revolver in the holster, and his eyes widened. “I’ll take that. Damn risky of you, Mr. Black.” Keeping the gun trained on him, Wendell took out the revolver and threw it into the bushes behind him.
While he had his back turned, Mason saw a fleeting opportunity to rush the killer. It was perfectly possible to tackle him and knock the gun from his hand. But if he did that he knew he would never see Amy again. Instead, and with difficulty, he bided his time. “Where is my daughter?”
Wendell offered a sly grin, then nodded at the RV.
“Inside?”
“Go on.”
Mason doubted Amy would be tucked away inside the RV, but he couldn’t take the risk of not checking. Grunting, he walked toward the door with his hands in the air, still resisting the urge to fight this son of a bitch.
“Open it.” The killer waved the pistol around.
With caution, Mason pried open the side door. He hadn’t truly expected to see her inside, and it came as no surprise when faced with only the metal backing he’d seen once before.
“Get in.”
Mason sighed, lowered his hands, and turned to face the killer. “Why don’t you just kill me and let her go? You’ll still go
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