Then he squeezed the trigger.

  A loud yelp filled the night. The crickets sang around them. The man stopped running, fell to his knees, and cried. Cried for the woman only a few feet ahead of him. The one who was bleeding out. He would never see her again, and he knew it.

  The killer approached. “See what happens when you don’t listen?”

  “Please,” the man begged through a cracked voice.

  “Your pleas won’t get you anywhere. Now, get in the RV, or you’ll end up like her.”

  This time the man didn’t hesitate. He clumsily stumbled to his feet, wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and trudged back toward the vehicle. The Lullaby Killer followed in close proximity, his gun trained on the man in case he made another foolish mistake.

  And to think, it had almost ended right there.

  Chapter Twelve

  Morning came, but peace didn’t come with it. Someone was thumping against the door in rapid succession. Mason, who was half in a dream and half out, checked his watch. It was five in the morning. Too early even for the sun to get its bright ass up.

  He checked on Diane and entered the hallway. The knocking stopped. In his semi-alert state, Mason felt compelled to check on MJ. A slight crack of the door showed an exhausted kid sleeping on his front, saliva running onto his pillow like a slow stream. Mason nodded, satisfied, and then the knocking came again.

  “All right,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes as he made his way downstairs.

  He turned the lights on one by one, thinking for a minute that maybe Marvin Wendell had come for him. Could it really be over that fast? Could the killer shoot him right now, then head upstairs to finish off his family? It wouldn’t surprise him, but he didn’t think it likely either. Mason took every precaution, slipping his spare handgun from on top of the hallway dresser, then slowly pulled open the door.

  “About time,” Bill said, stepping inside.

  Mason stepped back to let him in, his large frame still somehow blocking his friend’s entrance to the rest of the house. “Keep your voice down, will you? I’ve got a sleeping family upstairs, and I…”

  It was Bill’s smile that stopped him. A rare sight at best. Mason froze with uncertainty, knowing full well that it took a miracle for such things to occur. He wanted to ask what had happened, but when he tried to open his mouth, a dry tickle in his throat made him cough.

  “We’ve got something,” Bill said, finally letting go of the big secret.

  “Something big?”

  “Something huge.”

  “Then spill.”

  Bill’s grin widened, but he didn’t move. “Some trucker found a woman’s body this morning. Up near the woods. Had a bullet wound in her back, but she crawled her way to safety. Strong girl. Very willful.”

  “Right? So why does that bring you to my door at five in the morning?”

  “Because the man who shot her drove an RV.”

  Mason fell back, his spine hitting the hallway wall. A small, frail breath escaped him. “She’s talking?” he asked. “She can’t be talking already.”

  “Wrong. She’s awake and alert. A little emotionally broken, but she’s fine. Apparently, the bullet just clipped her. Now, I can get you in to talk to her if that’s what you want. But we’ll have to do it fast. Hospital policies are at war with the SFPD, and soon you won’t get in at all.”

  Mason didn’t need any more encouragement than that. Before he even realized he was doing it, he was already digging his pants out of the laundry basket and hurrying back for the door. If there was one chance to get ahead of the so-called Lullaby Killer, this was it.

  He just hoped it wasn’t a loss.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Security was tight at the newly built hospital, which came as a surprise to Mason. Although the supposed Lullaby Killer was back from the grave, the San Francisco Police Department was not aware of his existence. Or of exactly how he had died, for that matter.

  Mason kept close to Bill, who was his ticket inside. They rushed through the long, dark hallways of the hospital. Officers passed and greeted them both, but Mason kept his head low until they came to the woman’s room. A uniformed cop stood aside, whispered something to Bill, then made his way toward the cafeteria.

  “We’ve got however long it takes him to grab a coffee,” Bill said.

  “Then let’s not waste any time.”

  They went inside. It was dark. There were two beds, and a dim spotlight glowed above the only occupied one. Mason stepped toward the woman, who was stirring her way out of sleep. Bill hung back. Letting him work, Mason guessed.

  “Joanne Wood?” he said.

  The woman, twenty years old or younger, had long hair with blue highlights. They probably looked vibrant when she was at her best, but now they just looked like dark stains in her raggedy hair. She gazed up at him, her eyes flickering open slowly.

  “Tommy?” she asked.

  “She’s still in shock,” Bill whispered.

  Mason nodded and took her hand. She didn’t seem to notice. “Miss Wood, my name is Mason Black. I’m a private investigator pursuing your boyfriend’s…” He tried not to say “killer” in case it worked her up. That was hard to get around. “Can you tell me anything about the man who shot you? Anything at all?”

  The woman exhaled in a long burst of breath, then turned her head. As she tried to force her hand back into her own lap, Mason held it a little tighter. Just enough to let her know he was still there.

  “Was he tall? Short?” Mason asked.

  “No…”

  “You couldn’t see? Did he exit the vehicle?”

  “Gloves.”

  Mason cocked his head to one side. “Gloves?”

  “He wore gloves. Now leave me…”

  The woman rolled onto her side with a groan. Dark red grew from her side, where her bullet wound gaped from torn stitches. Her hospital gown drenched quickly. Mason stepped away, staring Bill dead in the eye.

  “Gloves,” Mason repeated. “Wendell wore gloves to hide his missing finger.”

  Bill said nothing, but the swallowing bob of his Adam’s apple said enough.

  “Let’s get out of here. And send a nurse in on our way out.”

  They notified a nurse, who scurried back to the room to take care of Joanne Wood. They kept quiet until they were outside, unwilling to share the information they’d gleaned with the police. If they found out about Wendell, more questions would be asked. And right now? Mason wasn’t even sure it really was Wendell. But while the killer wore gloves, drove an RV, and the abducted hitchhiker’s name matched the pattern, what else could Mason think?

  Wendell was back. He was sure of it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  As if he didn’t have enough problems, Diane was up and waiting for him when he got back. Eight o’clock had found a way to sneak up on him, and Mason walked up the drive slowly. It felt like he was underwater, drowning from the predicament that had come for him.

  “Where have you been?” Diane asked from the front doorway.

  “Let’s get inside first.”

  Mason followed her through to the living room, checked MJ was getting ready for school, then sat down with his wife. He told Diane everything that had happened, how concerned he was, and even suggested she started watching her back when in public places.

  “Do you think he’ll come for us?” she asked.

  “You can never be too careful.” Mason shrugged, went to the liquor cabinet, and took out a bottle of Jack Daniels. He poured two fingers into a tumbler, sniffed the sickly sweet liquid, then took a sip. It helped with his tiredness but did nothing for his worry. “He went for Amy last time, but there’s no way he can repeat that pattern.”

  Diane lowered her head, her pain showing.

  Mason distracted her with another thought. “I can’t take anyone else’s case while I’m working on this.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to. I’m just thinking…”

  “What?”

  “We’ve had our issues. My main concern has always been the safety of this family. When we took our little break from each other, I was hoping this dangerous stuff would stop. I wasn’t convinced, but I was hopeful. Now I just don’t know what to think.”

  Mason watched her, his heart breaking to see her so upset. The last thing he wanted to do was put her in danger—or even make her think she wasn’t safe, for that matter—but this time, there was truly no way he could get out of it. It wasn’t just a case from some stranger Mason felt sorry for. It was his own life and the lives of those he loved.

  “I’ll keep you safe,” he said.

  “But is that enough?” Diane asked, looking absently at the drink in his hand.

  Mason set it down, then joined her on the couch. He kissed her softly on the cheek, then lay back and let her rest her head on his shoulder. It was the perfect fit. “Life feels a little crazy right now. I know that. But I have to figure out what’s going on.”

  “You do you.”

  “It’s not something I’m choosing.”

  “I think… deep down, I know that. But I’m so tired of it.”

  Mason nodded gently, tucking strands of her black hair over her ear and holding her close. Back when he’d promised to keep danger away from their family, he’d really meant it. He just hadn’t counted on a serial killer returning from beyond the grave. And if that’s what had truly happened, not a single one of them was safe. The only question remaining was how he could protect them all at once.

  The answer? He couldn’t.

  Chapter Fifteen

  She had been up all night. Simply hearing Wendell’s name had stirred something inside her that kept her heart racing and filled her ears with blood. There had been less than thirty minutes sleep over the past few hours, but those minutes had been poor and spread widely.

  “Can’t win with this stupid place,” she said.

  Evie kicked the duvet off and paced her apartment. There was no way she could work today. No chance of concentration, even less chance of keeping her eyes open. She crossed her apartment, found the coffee machine, then found she was too exhausted to bother brewing some. She gave up, grabbed her phone off the counter, then sat in her window seat and enjoyed a view of San Francisco. The sun was just crawling over the horizon, and the whole city glowed a beautiful orange. It was the only beautiful thing about her life right now.

  Rubbing her eyes, Evie finally looked down at her phone. A parade of notifications swamped her phone. She swiped them dismissively until she got to a text message from her brother. Beneath Mason’s name was a short message that woke her up abruptly.

  It’s looking more likely that he’s back. Find her. Talk to her if you must. Just make sure nobody is out to get her. Be careful.

  “Shit,” Evie said, setting the phone down beside her.

  She crossed her arms and let her head roll back, watching the early morning commuters get their acts together. Evie hadn’t really wanted to involve the girl, but if history was going to repeat itself, she had to bear in mind that there was a psychopath out there who knew about her big secret. It had been used against her in the past, but now she was old enough to know better. There were no lines that couldn’t be crossed. No rules to break. The girl was considered independent now, and if she wanted to reach out, then nobody could stop her.

  All she needed was the address.

  Chapter Sixteen

  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.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The race to Muir Woods had been frantic. Every car seemed to get in his way. Mason had wanted nothing more than to knock them aside to get to the right location. All he could think about was Amy and how she had spent her last few moments within these trees.

  But he was on the other side of the woods. Not where Amy had died, but where Thomas Chance had been hanged from a tree. A gruesome image of the body flickered in Mason’s mind, but he did his best to ignore it. He swallowed a dry lump and made his way up the path.

  The darkness of night covered him. Homeless people occupied some of these bushes, but he wasn’t in danger. Not from them, anyway. All he really had to worry about was a serial killer. One who had it in for him, too.

  It took a few minutes to reach the right spot, but he got there. Mason found himself out of breath, panting heavily as the moonlight poured through thin gaps in the trees. He looked at the tree where Thomas had died. The branch his body had swung from had been trimmed. Recently, judging by the looks of the bare cross-section. There was a stump nearby where a hiker’s body had been found on the same night.

  Otherwise, he was alone.

  “I’m here,” he called out.

  But there was nothing. A rustle in the bushes on either side. Startled animals, Mason thought. And then another thought occurred: Had he been lured out here as a distraction while the Lullaby Killer went back for his family? A wave of panic washed over him. He turned and started to run, but by the time he even gained some momentum, there was a stirring behind him.

  Mason stopped, turned, and saw the worst thing he could have possibly imagined.

  It was Marvin Wendell… but he wasn’t alone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  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?”