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.

Over 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

Ava 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.