Fatigue, stress, and worry bogged him down. It blurred his vision, caused a disturbingly painful headache, and occupied every square inch of his thoughts. Mason carefully stopped the Mustang next to the youth center and groggily turned toward his son.
“Have fun, kiddo. Mommy will pick you up in an hour.”
MJ climbed up and kissed him on the cheek, then left the vehicle quickly. Mason smiled and waited alone in the car, watching while the youth club leader escorted the kids inside the building. It wasn’t until he was out of sight that Mason felt safe enough to move on. When he did, he drove quickly to get far away as fast as possible.
I’m being paranoid, he thought as he considered that Marvin Wendell might be watching. Had he led the Lullaby Killer right to his son? Surely not. He was almost certain this was just a strange bout of overprotection, but he couldn’t stop.
Mason drove on through the night. It had been a strange day of reading up on old files, getting intermittent sleep, arguing with Diane about his lifestyle (again—but that was the least of his worries right now), and looking over his shoulder the whole time. It felt obscure that the only person he could be totally open with about this was Bill, but Bill was busy being a hardworking homicide detective. He had very little time to be a friend.
His phone buzzed violently in his pocket. It startled Mason, making him jump and snap to alertness. As much as he hated people who drove while talking on their phones, he took a quick look at the screen and saw it was a private number. Curiosity getting the better of him, he took the call and put it on speaker while he found a place to pull over.
“Mason Black speaking.”
“Hello, Mason.”
It wasn’t just a voice. It was the voice. Deep, raspy, with broken streaks of high pitch. It was the voice of somebody who knew a huge secret. Of somebody who had complete power over him, with his life and the life of his family in his hands.
It was the voice of Marvin Wendell.
“What do you want?” Mason asked, parking in a red zone. He killed the engine and rolled up the windows, listening intently as his heart thumped wildly. The hand holding the phone shook against his cheek.
“You.”
The voice made his whole body go cold.
“Listen to me, you son of a—”
“Don’t talk like you’re in control. You’re not in control. I am. Now, I’m going to tell you what to do, and you’re going to do it. If you don’t, everyone will know your little secret.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Actually, nothing would please me more.”
Mason bit his tongue. He wanted to scream and shout, to threaten to kill all over again. Suddenly, it felt as though his primal instincts were back in control. Like he hadn’t spent the past few years trying to redeem himself for his more violent past. But now the floodgates were open, and all he could do was wish he’d made this man suffer even more.
“You’re going to Muir Woods,” Wendell said.
“Why?” Because that’s where Amy died.
“Because that’s where Tommy Chance died.”
Doesn’t he know about Amy? Mason wondered. Why was that not being used against him? Was it strictly business, Wendell worrying about nothing but repeating the past? Only time would tell, and the clock was ticking.
“What if I don’t?” he asked, encouraging him to reveal his plan.
“Then the police will learn all about what you did. Your face will be on the front of every newspaper for weeks. While you’ve gone through hell and back with the legal system, I’ll be taking your family apart piece by piece… starting with their pinkies.”
Mason ground his teeth. At some point, he had to accept he was merely a toy.
“Tell me what to do,” he said, huffing.
“Go to where Tommy died. Alone. If you come with cops, your family dies.”
The line went dead. The car fell silent. Pain, anxiety, and anger flooded through him all at once, creating a twisted whirlwind of extreme emotions until he hit the wheel. Mason screamed in his car, powerless to stop the events to come.
The Lullaby Killer had full control.