Targeted (Callahan & McLane Book 4) (28 page)

37

“Wake up!”

“Wake up!”

A twisting, burning sensation in Mason’s upper arm made his eyes jerk open as his body spasmed in pain. He tried to focus on Scott’s face floating above him. The man was dressed in black, including a black hoodie that he’d pulled over his hair. His face was the only pale thing in the room. He stepped back for a fraction of a second and Mason glimpsed the knife in his hand, blood dripping from the tip.

That’s what I felt in my arm.

A boot connected with Mason’s ribs, and a red haze swamped his vision as he fought to stay conscious through the pain.

A hand yanked on his damaged arm. “Get up!”

Mason’s legs fumbled to get underneath him as Scott pulled, and he realized his feet had been untied. His muscles refused to keep him upright and he lurched to one side, landing on an elbow.

His eyes squeezed closed at the pain.

“For fuck’s sake! Get up!” Scott hauled on his arm again. Mason shakily stood, not trusting his legs and biting his lips to keep down the vomit that pushed up in the back of his throat.

“Barely walk,” he croaked between clenched lips. “Legs not working.”

“We’re not going far,” Scott said. He pressed his knife into Mason’s ribs. “Just in case you’re shitting me.”

“Not,” muttered Mason.

Scott pulled him to the door of the little shed and let go of his arm to open the door. Mason struggled to stay on his feet. He looked away as Scott’s hand multiplied into four hands as he pushed open the door. The multi-vision made his stomach clench.

Running away was out of the question.

He stumbled through the dark as Scott steered him with a hand on the back of his arm. Mason lost track of their direction. They moved between fir trees and tripped through a field of pumpkin vines. Voices grew louder. Children’s voices and the occasional speech of an adult. Scott stopped and tied a gag around his mouth. Mason concentrated on breathing around the foul-tasting cloth. Blood ran from his nose into his mouth and he struggled to spit it out. Instead a constant thread of drool oozed down his chin.

“Get down,” Scott hissed in a hushed voice as he dropped to the ground and yanked Mason down with him. Mason twisted, landing on one shoulder, protecting his face somewhat. He panted as he tried to catch his breath, momentarily pleased that he was no longer upright. The loud chug of a tractor moved in their direction and the laughter of people grew louder.

The haunted hayride.

He turned his head, trying to see the tractor he knew was pulling a big trailer lined with hay. The forest was dark, the tractor’s lights off to enhance the Halloween mood.

“Make a noise, and I’ll start shooting. Kids first,” Scott whispered in his ear.

Mason didn’t doubt him, but he was incapable of making a sound. The vibrations from the big engine shook the ground. He simply lay still and listened as the ride passed twenty yards away from their dark hiding spot, leaving them in the silent black woods again, and he remembered the dark ride with his son. A few minutes later Mason heard shrieks and screams and knew the ride had driven into a zombie horde or the interactive graveyard.

He put the thought of his son out of his head.

Ava. She’ll figure out Scott Heuser is our man.

But would it be before or after he became Scott’s next work of art?

Scott released his arm. “Don’t fucking move.”

I don’t have much choice.

He heard Scott dash away, leaves and twigs crunching under his feet. A raspy sound of plastic scraping against plastic came from his direction.

Mason listened, straining his eyes to see in the dim light. Scott cursed as something made an abrupt cracking and splashing noise.

An odd taste floated through the air and touched his lips. Mason blew through his nose, trying to clear the bloody blockage. Wet clumps flew out and splattered on the ground.

He carefully inhaled through his nose.

Gasoline.

O
ver the past month, Scott had stayed busy. He’d stashed his supplies in hidden caches on the farm next door. He’d watched the staff set up for the Halloween season, preparing its gory props and ramshackle buildings. The corn maze had been planted earlier in the year, and he’d memorized every twist and turn. He’d spent hours building his own devices, studying online tutorials, and downloading instruction manuals.

He was ready.

It would be a Halloween to remember.

Now to move his final piece into position.

Earlier in the week he’d tried to enter Mason’s home, only to be screwed over by the presence of a dog. A really loud dog.

He’d had to regroup, but he always had a backup plan.

His backup plan had saved his ass at Lucien’s home, but as soon as he’d fired he’d known he had to leave.

It’d felt incomplete.

When the FBI had asked him for help in its investigation, his stress had increased along with his determination to finish his plan. He had to stay one step ahead.

He was so close.

He’d lost his breath when he saw Mason get out of his vehicle in front of his farmhouse. He’d given up on getting to the man before Halloween, and then he’d knocked on Scott’s front door like a trick-or-treater.

Did Mason remember the last time he’d knocked on that door?

It’d been pitifully easy to walk up behind him with the stun gun. The sense of satisfaction as he saw the man drop to the ground had been beyond comparison.

Now the last symbol of his mother’s pain was trussed at his feet. He’d originally planned for Lucien Fujioka to be the finale, but clearly Mason was meant to be. He’d been hand-delivered to his home, next door to the location where he’d dreamed to create the final spectacle.

Someone was watching out for him.

The haunted hayride chugged out of the forest, headed back to the farm store and main area to pick up its next load of children. He had a good fifteen minutes before it looped by again.

Would anyone on the next ride notice the addition to the scenery?

He hauled the detective to his feet. “This way.” Mason stumbled and caught his balance. He turned his head, coughing and spitting.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed.

Mason muttered something behind the gag.

The two of them floundered through the dark. He knew every path and gave a wide berth to the small shed where the group of zombies reconnoitered after every pass of the hayride. His goal was the gallows, a good fifty yards from the zombie village and past the graveyard.

The gallows were a couple of flimsy stands with a half-dozen hanging bodies. More bodies hung from the surrounding trees. He’d spent a few days reinforcing the second set of gallows. No one had noticed the added boards, nails, or rope.

Now it was capable of bearing the weight of a real body.

When will they notice?

The thought of the body hanging there for days put a spring in his step.

He’d set up enough distractions to confuse the owners, attendees, and investigators for a while.

Who’ll be the lucky fellow to come across my big secret?

A laugh burst out of him and he struggled to be quiet. Next to him Mason tripped over a tree root and fell to his knees. The detective groaned as Scott jerked up his arm to get him moving again. Their timeline was tight.

Another hundred feet to the gallows.

38

A
va turned into the long driveway in rural Washington County. The drive had taken much longer than she’d expected. An accident had clogged the freeway, and she’d sat for what felt like hours in the traffic, slowly inching forward. She’d nearly missed the driveway. A couple of tiny reflectors marked its position along the dark, narrow road.

Ahead, a vehicle was parked in front of the big white home. Bright outdoor lights lit up the grounds. Ava stopped her car, staring at the familiar back of the vehicle. She read the license plate three times and then picked up her phone and dialed Mason’s phone number. Voice mail.

She called another number.

Nora Hawes answered.

“Mason’s car is here at the Heidi Nickle residence,” Ava blurted. “The house looks dark inside, and I still can’t reach him on his cell phone.”

Nora sucked in a breath. “I’m sending backup. Wait for it.”

Ava ended the call. She’d stopped her car just outside the umbrella of light cast by the outdoor lamps, but her headlights pointed directly at the home. She turned off her car, stopping the beams streaming in the house’s front windows, and waited.

Check his car.

She drew her weapon, keeping one eye on the home fifty feet away and another on Mason’s car. She darted out of the shadows and directly into the stream of light and peeked in the windows of his car.

Empty.

She tried the door, found it unlocked, and hit the trunk release. With two long steps and a racing heart, she peeked into the trunk.

All clear.

She closed the trunk and car door and made tracks back to her vehicle.

Where are you?

What was the connection to Heidi Nickle? Somehow Mason had figured it out before all of them and decided to pay a visit.

Damn you, Mason!

She swore at Nora, too, for telling him to keep his distance. If he’d been included, he would have told them about the lead he was following.

The inside of her car was too quiet. She left the door open a few inches, hoping to hear her backup coming at any moment. She froze.
Was that laughter?

Huge fir trees rose behind and to the right of the house. She stood and looked over the roof of her car, her gaze trained in that direction.

More laughter. Some screams. But happy screams.

The woods lit up with an orange glow a split second before the sounds of the explosions reached her ears.

She dialed 911 and raced toward the burning woods, her phone at her ear.

H
is energy was gone, but Mason fought back.

One look at the gallows told him what Scott had in mind.

No fucking way would he dance at the end of a noose.

Scott would have to kill him, haul him up the steps, and then hang his dead body.

Maybe that’s acceptable in Scott’s book.

It wasn’t in Mason’s.

He thrashed and broke out of Scott’s grip on his arm. He took three reeling steps away from the gallows and Scott grabbed the collar of his coat. His head jerked backward as Scott yanked him to a stop. Twice Mason lurched his body weight forward to break the grip, but it was no use. Seeing no other option, Mason dropped to the ground and curled up in a ball the best he could with his hands still tied behind his back. He waited for more kicks to his broken ribs.

Lightning flashed behind his eyes as Scott pressed the stun gun into his flesh. His legs shot out in spasms.

“Don’t fuck with me again,” Scott said. “I can drag your ass just fine.”

He grabbed Mason’s shoulders and dragged him the last twenty feet to the gallows.

Four days ago Scott had attached a pulley to the top of the gallows. It’d seemed easier than rigging a ramp. He’d known no victim would willingly move up the ladder to the gallows. Even with a gun in his back. He’d recognized he would need to use his stun gun and pulley. Again.

He’d stashed a small harness underneath, accepting that it wouldn’t be easy to haul a body up to the platform. Once the body was on the platform, the rest would be simple. There was no trapdoor. The guilty would be pushed off the platform and the fall would be enough to break his neck. If he didn’t die from the jerk of the rope, then he would slowly strangle to death.

He’d wanted to repeat Vince Weldon’s death. To get it right this time. It’d been the most satisfying killing, standing and watching the man slowly die, even though there’d been little fanfare afterward. He’d been too cautious, too smooth, too good at setting the stage. He’d researched the marks his stun gun would leave on a body. If he was careful, at the most two small bruises
might
show up hours after death. He’d set aside his stun gun for the more visible baseball bat head blows for the other three men. No doubt that had caught the attention of the police and medical examiner.

How long will it take for someone to spot the real body among the fakes?

Mason flopped onto the platform and Scott wiped his forehead. Even with the pulley and harness, it’d been a bitch to get the man to the top. Most of the stun gun’s effects had worn off, and he was starting to fight again. He’d lost his gag in the struggle up the ladder, but Scott was glad he’d tied his feet again before using the pulley to haul him up the gallows. He had to get this done and get back home. If he moved Mason’s car to the farm among all the other cars, they couldn’t connect him to the man’s death.

His goal would be achieved.

“This place is going to be crawling with cops any minute,” Mason croaked.

“Yes, it will be. But not for the reason you think. They have no idea it’s me.” Scott knelt on the man’s back and roughly looped the noose around his neck. Mason froze at the yank of the rope and then thrashed again, knocking Scott off his back. The cop scooted toward the edge of the platform, searching for a way down.

“Go ahead and jump off. You’ll speed up my process,” Scott said in amusement. Mason’s eyes grew wide as he judged the distance to the ground. “Having second thoughts?”

Scott checked the time. He still had ten minutes before his distractions were set in motion. But the hayride should be along soon. He sat back, leaning against a pole on the gallows, taking a moment to relish the man’s fear.

Mason met his gaze. “Why me?”

Scott frowned. “You don’t remember?”

“I remember you. I put it together once I stood on your porch. I’d been assigned as your mentor but had to cut it short.”

“You abandoned my mother. You made all sorts of promises to her. You were going to leave your wife and help us start a new life. But once you got what you needed from her, you ran.” Scott sneered. “Was the sex worth it, Callahan? Was it worth destroying our lives?”

Mason stared at him. “I didn’t make any promises to your mother. I was married.”

“I know. But you led her to believe your marriage meant nothing to you.”

“Bullshit! I never said anything of the sort and I never
fucked your mother
. She came on so strong at our first meeting I knew I couldn’t stay in that situation. That’s why I left. She fucking threw herself at me.”

“She did not!” Fury raged through him.
How dare he impugn my mother that way.

“She did! Is that why you targeted those other cops? Because your mother sent them scrambling? After she lied to you and told you they were the answer to your prayers?”

“They had it coming! They all used her. Every single man led her on and made her promises and then abandoned us!”
I have every right to do this!

Mason shook his head. “I hate to break it to you, but your mother was a liar. That may have happened with another cop or two, but I sure didn’t do it. I didn’t give her the chance. I was out of there the minute I saw what she was about. She used
you
—she kept you in the mentoring program to get close to cops.”

“You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about!” Scott shrieked at the lying cop.
Liars! Every last one of them. How dare he blame my mother!
“You did this!”

“We have a name for women like your mother—badge bunnies.” Mason smirked.

Scott scrambled to his feet, ready to throw the man over the edge. Anger focused his vision. “You—”

Explosions cut off his words and the forest lit up like a fireworks display.