Stolen Son: A gripping psychological thriller that will have you hooked

by Cole Baxter

  Stolen Son

  A Gripping Psychological Thriller That Will Have You Hooked

  Cole Baxter

  Illustrated by

  Natasha Snow

  Edited by

  Valorie Clifton

  Copyright © 2018 by Cole Baxter

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Natasha Snow

  Edited by Valorie Clifton

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the authors’ imagination.

  Contents

  Mailing List

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  About Cole Baxter

  Also by Cole Baxter

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  Chapter One

  My heart raced, Greg’s fingers tangling through my thick hair as he kissed my body. Everything was perfect. His platinum hair reminded me of someone else. An uneasiness started to rise in my body, yet everything seemed so wonderful! I tried to let the pleasure of being with my husband consume me again. Nothing seemed to work. Something wasn’t right, yet I couldn’t place my finger on it. Begrudgingly, I shoved Greg away. I had to find our son, Gregory.

  He glared at me as my pleasure turned to fear. His eyes, once as blue as the ocean itself, had changed. There was nothing but darkness in them. I tried to scream but the sound wouldn’t escape my throat. All around me, the bedroom began to shake as pictures fell from the walls. Behind them, blood oozed out, thick and black like putrid sludge. Greg was gone, and the dark figure which replaced him triggered my fear and memory. He was the bad man, the one who liked to force his way with me.

  Before his thick fingers could wrap around my throat, I screamed again, praying for anyone to hear me and come to my rescue but knowing it was already too late. I closed my eyes as his figure faded away. It wasn’t until the menacing laughter stopped that I opened them again. A woman ran into my room, fear creasing her youthful face as she rushed to my side.

  “Ms. Simmons! Are you in pain?” she yelled over my screams.

  I nodded at first before the screaming stopped and turned to choked sobs. “It was just a bad dream. Oh, God!”

  I took in my surroundings, the fear replaced by panic. It was as familiar as the dream had been to me. The stark white walls and subtle sounds of machines filled my senses. Harsh chemicals burned my nostrils as the memories came flooding back. I was in the hospital.

  “Please,” I gasped. “Please, not again! My son, where is my son?”

  The nurse shook her head. “Ms. Simmons, you’ve suffered a pretty serious concussion.”

  I didn’t care about what she was saying. The only thing that mattered was finding Gregory. I started to rip the needles and tape from my arms, much to the nurse’s dismay. She tried to steady my hands, pulling them away from the IV that was in my arm. She was stronger than I gave her credit for, but I had something worth fighting for.

  “You don’t understand! I have to find Gregory. He is special. He has Asperger’s and will be so scared! Where is my brother? Where is Tom?”

  The nurse shifted her feet, looking around uneasily, and I knew something was wrong.

  “Ms. Simmons, if you would just calm down, I can have the officer who was at the scene talk with you,” she said. I jumped to interrupt but she raised an authoritative finger. “Otherwise, I’ll have to bring in an orderly to hold you down. Then you’ll get a nice sedative and we can try this again in a few hours.”

  I ground my teeth together. I had never been one for confrontation and this instance was no different. It took a great deal for me to get angry. The rage I felt inside was easy enough to pinpoint. I no longer thought that it was ten years ago when I’d just woken from the coma. Now I knew that something had happened, and my son was in danger.

  “Fine,” I hissed. “Go get the officer and make it quick. I want to know where my son is right now.”

  She glared at me but said nothing as she disappeared out the door again. I sat back, taking a deep breath and trying to focus on exactly what had happened. The details were still so sketchy. My memory was selective at best, one of the reasons I saw Dr. Andrews. Gloria was helping me to remember the sordid details of my kidnapping ten years ago. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and reaching for the past.

  Tom, along with us and my mother, had all been decorating for Christmas. It was Gregory’s favorite time of year. The bright colors and potential for new games always drove him wild. With his Asperger’s, Christmas decorating was something he loved to do in a routine fashion. We had started with the tinsel, every strand delicately placed on our fake tree.

  Some might have considered the task tedious, but not me. I saw the genius and order in everything that my nine-year-old did. My mother and brother loved him beyond words too. Something had happened then, a phone call. Even the memory made my heart race. My eyes darted to the ancient grandfather clock in the hall as it chimed six times. He always called at six.

  Gregory’s eyes met mine. I’d tried so hard to shelter him, but his gift made it a challenge. He could pick up on someone’s emotional change before they ever knew it was going to happen. I watched his face fall for a split second before a hard mask replaced it. He turned back to his tinsel. I took a deep breath and went to the phone in the hallway.

  “Hello?”

  “You fucking whore,” the disguised voice seethed. “I want my boy. I want the pup I gave to my bitch when I seeded you.”

  “The police are tracking this line, you bastard,” I whispered with hateful anger.

  He laughed, a menacing tone that I knew all too well. “Liar, liar, pants on fire. That’s okay. My boy will know what you are soon enough.”

  “Don’t you dare come near my son,” I said quickly.

  The line went dead. He never stayed on the phone long. Just enough to remind me that my rapist and Greg’s killer was still out there. I slammed the phone down, my hands shaking with fear. From the living room, I saw Gregory jump and look back at me as he covered his ears. It was a rookie mistake on my part. He was so sensitive to sounds.

  I smiled at him, trying to keep the sadness from my eyes. Tom appeared and started pulling out strands of tinsel to hand to Gregory. He was consumed once again by the project at hand. I took a deep breath and headed down the hall to the kitchen where Christmas carols and my mother’s singing rang out. She smiled at me, pretending not to hear the phone ring.

  “Why don’
t you run to the store with me? You need a little fresh air,” she said with a grin.

  I shook my head, still shaken. “No thanks. I’m going to take a hot shower. I don’t really want to leave Gregory right now.”

  “I understand,” she said softly, removing her flour-covered apron and setting it on the counter.

  In a rare show of affection, she wrapped her arms around me. For the first time in a while, I let her hug me and returned the embrace. I felt comforted by her, though no one else was allowed to get so close to me. Of course, Gregory was the exception to that rule. She let me go and grabbed her purse from the hook near the back door.

  “Let the boys know I’ll be back soon, okay?”

  “Sure,” I said as I headed back into the living room.

  “You okay?” Tom asked.

  I shrugged. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

  He nodded. “You always do.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “His voice—”

  “I know, you don’t need to tell me. It makes you feel dirty all over again, but you know that I will keep you guys safe, right?”

  I smiled at him and nodded. “You always do.”

  He laughed at the play on words as I headed up the steps in the hallway to the bathroom I shared with my mother. It wasn’t ideal living with her, but I needed the help with Gregory. My part-time income as an app developer helped support the household. If I was being honest with myself, it wasn’t just Gregory who needed the emotional support.

  Even after ten years, I still woke in the middle of the night screaming. I softly shut the bathroom door, turning on the water and trying desperately to shake free from the memories. Why was I never able to remember my attacker? Frustration and anxiety washed over me as I tried desperately to force the memories away.

  In the thick of the battle, I heard a scream. My eyes flew open, heart pounding as I tried to decipher whether it was real or once again my own screams as my attacker forced himself on me again in the memory. Just as I reached for the door, a gut-wrenching scream rang out in the small house, followed by Gregory’s own blood-curdling scream for his uncle.

  There was no more hesitation as I flew out the bathroom door and down the steps. Tom was lying on the floor, face down as blood trickled from a large wound to his back. I ran to him, my fingers desperately searching for a pulse as I reached for the phone. Gregory had to be safe. He had to have made it to our secret hiding spot.

  My fingers frantically punched in the number for the police as I quickly put pressure on my brother’s wound.

  “Emergency services,” a woman answered.

  “Please, someone has broken into my home. My brother was stabbed.”

  “Is the intruder still there?”

  I swallowed against my dry throat. It hadn’t even crossed my mind until that instance. Before I could think, before I could even process what she’d said, I heard footsteps behind me. I tried to turn around and lunge at whoever it was, but they were larger and much faster than I was. His burly fist, the same one as ten years before, connected with my cheek and sent me reeling to the ground. Darkness settled in, and the last thing I could recall was his kneeling down next to me, my son struggling in his grip.

  “Told you I’d get my boy, bitch. I’ll see you again real soon.”

  I shuddered, my eyes flying open and bringing me back to the hospital room. I jumped when I saw a shadow standing in the corner. I was about to scream when Jacob stepped forward, his rotund belly and curly, carrot-colored hair ringing a note of familiarity in my mind. His eyes showed nothing but anger.

  “Jacob?” I whispered. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  “Where else do you think I would be? Annabeth, are you okay? They wouldn’t tell me anything because I’m not family. I only got up here because of your mother.”

  I sighed. “No.” The words wouldn’t come to me. I couldn’t admit it to him or even myself. “He stabbed Tom. No one in this place will tell me where he is or whether he made it.”

  Jacob’s eyes widened in shock. “You know who it was?”

  I nodded. “The same man who killed Greg. He has some hairbrained idea that my baby is his son.”

  “I guess for a madman, that’s an easy assumption to make. I mean . . .” Jacob said awkwardly. “You were kidnapped on your honeymoon.”

  I glared at him. Jacob had been a friend of the family for the last fifteen years, but sometimes, he drove me mad. I tried not to hold his faults against him, like now. Admittedly, it was hard. I needed him to be a friend, not play the devil’s advocate. Even as we spoke, his eyes softened into the puppy dog I knew him as. Jacob’s feelings for me were no secret. He’d reminded me of them as recently as two days ago.

  “Jacob, I know that Gregory is Greg’s child,” I told him softly. It was the truth. All I needed to do was look in his eyes to know it was.

  “But you never had his DNA tested.”

  “Please stop,” I begged him. “I don’t want to talk about that right now. Have you seen Tom? No one will tell me anything.”

  He softened, moving to the bed and sitting down carefully. “He’s alive but his condition isn’t great. He was stabbed in the spine. No one knows how he managed to pull through.”

  “He always was a fighter,” I said as tears prickled my eyes.

  “Annabeth,” Jacob said carefully. “If you remember anything, you need to tell me now.”

  “I remember it all, just not what really matters. Who is Greg’s killer?”

  Jacob cleared his throat and took my hand, looking directly at me. My heart started to race with fear.

  I shook my head. “No, Jacob, please. No.”

  “Annabeth,” he whispered. “You already know what happened. It’s Gregory.”

  I started to sob, dry heaving as the tears started to fall down onto my lap. “Oh, God. Say it.”

  “I’m so sorry, Annabeth, but Gregory is missing. The police believe that he was kidnapped by the same man who stabbed Tom.”

  “Greg’s killer,” I choked.

  “Yes, the same. Do you remember anything about what happened? Did you get a look at his face?”

  I scoffed. “Don’t you think if I had seen his face, I’d be singing to the police right now?”

  “Well,” he muttered. “They are right outside, waiting to talk to you. I wouldn’t let them in until you were ready though.”

  Smiling at Jacob, I pulled my hand away and sat up in the bed. “I think I’m ready. Would you mind sending them in when you leave?”

  “You don’t want me here with you?”

  I shook my head. “Not this time. But thank you for everything.”

  Jacob nodded. I could see the hurt in his eyes, but there was no time to placate his feelings. My son was missing, and I was going to get him back.

  Chapter Two

  Jacob turned away from the door, noticing the tears springing to my eyes again. I sucked in a breath and tried to get myself under control. For a man as large as he was, Jacob crossed the room quickly and was once again at my bed.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Really.”

  He shook his head and wrapped his arms around me. The touch was unwelcomed and I instantly tensed. Instinctively, I shoved him away from me with a little more force than intended and he went stumbling back. His face flushed a deep red as he brushed himself off.

  “I’m sorry, Jacob. I don’t like being touched,” I said in a tone so firm, it shocked me. “You know that. I’ve never been okay with anyone touching me.”

  “God,” he snapped. “I thought we were past that, Annabeth. I was just trying to comfort you.”

  “I know you were,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “I have been nothing but patient and understanding with you. A lesser man would find someone who cared back.”

  “Jacob, I’ve told you I don’t feel that way.”

  “Save it,” he snapped.

  Jacob jerked the door open, storming out of the room. His tempe
r had always been short, though most of the time, he tried to hide it from me. It was surprising to see him on edge, especially since I was the one with a missing son. I didn’t have time to mull over his attitude before a handsome man in a police uniform stepped into the room.

  He took one look at my frantic gaze and stepped away from the door, leaving it open, to my approval and surprise. Extending a hand, he slowly walked forward. Each step seemed carefully calculated. Suddenly, I felt very frumpy. I had to look like a hot mess, but it didn’t matter. If Officer Stud Muffin was going to help me find my baby boy, then I’d work with him.

  “Ms. Simmons?” he asked. “I’m Detective Reyes. How are you feeling?”

  “Angry,” I snapped quicker than expected. “I want to know what you are doing to find my son.”

  He smiled sympathetically. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. We are doing everything possible to find Gregory. Is there anything you can tell me about your attacker?”

  I cringed. “Yes. It was the same man as before. The one who killed my Greg.”

  Reyes looked down at his notepad and flipped a few pages back. “I’m sorry for your loss. That was ten years ago, correct?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “You were in a coma?”

  “For twenty-six days,” I said.

  “What happened after that?”