There was just no way to keep them all safe. As hard as he tried—driving the Mustang from Kylie’s house to check in, then over to Evie’s apartment and watching from afar—Mason understood the killer could come back to take what was left of him at any moment.
Where are you, Diane?
What he found, while he was sitting in the car staring up at the apartment, was that losing his wife was far greater a problem than losing his home. Homes could be rebuilt, gardens replotted. But nothing could craft a smile as infectious as Diane’s. Nobody could sound so soft and yet so strong at the same time. The thought of losing her left him shaking.
Though it was impossible to concentrate, Mason knew he had to try. He fetched the files from his trunk, spread them over his lap and the dashboard, then got to reading. The pile was so tall it would take forever to get through, and he didn’t have forever. With this in mind, he fingered through to the most important parts. The parts Wendell might hold a grudge about. Where might he have taken Diane? What location might that psycho think of as significant?
As the hours went on and the answers didn’t come, Mason’s eyes grew heavier. He was battling total exhaustion, his motivation only carrying him so far. He began to drift in and out of sleep over the next few hours. There were short dreams about Amy, standing in the rain and asking why he had let her die. Then he’d snap awake, only to fall again into a world where he was protecting her. Where Mason was dangling from Cliffside Hill, Amy tethered to the other end. Mason took his keys and began to saw through the rope, but the faster he sawed, the heavier he became. Soon, he was dragging Amy to the edge of the cliff. She was dying, and it was all his fault. There was nothing he could do to—
“Cliffside Hill,” he mumbled, opening his eyes.
Mason looked around him as he wiped a small spot of saliva with his sleeve. He looked around only to find broad daylight had crept up on him. The papers in his lap were now all over the floor. He hurried to scoop them together, repeating what his dreams told him over and over, eager to head over there and look for something—anything—to get his wife back.