Death waited on the farther tree. Only a few feet from where Tommy Chance had died eight years ago. Now, shrouded by the night’s darkness, a different Tommy was in his place. Mason couldn’t see it all, but what he could see was the rope around his neck and the way it was fed over the tree branch like a pulley. On the other end, a shadowy figure.
“Took your time,” the killer said.
“I didn’t exactly get advance notice.” Mason pointed at the man balancing on a large log. The man barely moved, but his legs were visibly shaking even with the lack of light. “That’s our missing man, I presume?”
“You presume correctly.”
Mason stood quietly in the darkness. On the phone, this man had sounded exactly like Marvin Wendell, but now there was something new in his voice. Pride? Perhaps. If not that, then a more fierce version of the arrogance he’d come to know.
“What am I doing out here?” Mason asked him bluntly.
“Oh, we’re here to play a game.”
“And what game might that be?”
A sly laugh from the shadows. Hysteria from a distorted figure. “There’s a plan, you see. A plan to put you back through your steps. Think of it as rereading your diary from many moons ago. This thing with Tommy here—this is just a prelude. A taster, if you like.”
“And I’m supposed to just allow this?”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
Mason drew the Glock so fast it surprised even himself. A quick flick of the wrist and he had the Lullaby Killer in his sights. He had reclaimed the power, and it had been easy. He just hadn’t counted on another laugh to sneak through the dark.
“You really think it’s that easy? I’m the counterweight, dummy. You shoot me, I fall. When I fall, Tommy gets hoisted into the air by his neck.” A pause for effect. “Just like old times, hey? Only this time, there’s no little girl of yours to kidnap. I’ll have to make do.”
Mason stepped forward, rage seizing control of his body. The killer twitched and motioned to the rope. Mason had no choice but to pause, lowering the gun ever so slightly. “You better get to your point, because I care a lot more about my family than I do this guy.”
“Honestly, I don’t believe you. Either way, you’re going to play my game.”
“Only until I get a chance to put you back in the ground.”
“Always with the temper.” The killer sighed and took one slow step back. “I’m done playing with you for now. How about this: you put the gun down, or I initiate this young man’s death. How does that sound?”
Shit, Mason thought so clearly he wasn’t sure if he’d said it aloud. Either way, there was no winning this. Every move he made could determine whether this man lived or died, and he wasn’t about to take a risk on a stranger.
He set down the gun.
“Good,” the killer said, reaching in the dark to tie the rope around the log.
Mason watched this with fear creeping up on him. He knew what the psycho was doing, but by the time he figured it out, it was too late to act on it. Although that didn’t stop him trying. Mason lunged for his gun, gripped it, and raised it back up. Only now the killer was gone, his presence replaced by rapid footsteps. Where he had stood, Tommy was now making choking sounds, the enormous log being used as the counterweight. Mason realized with sick fascination that he was now faced with a choice: catch the killer or save the boy.
The choice tasted bitter, but the decision was clear.