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

by Cole Baxter

  “Do you remember what his voice was like?”

  “Not really,” I admitted. “I know it was often angry. That’s all I can remember.”

  “Really?” he said, an uncomfortable smile coming to his lips. “You’ve just blacked it out? You couldn’t tell the cops what the guy looked or sounded like?”

  “Nope,” I replied. “Believe me, I wish it could. I’ve been working with my therapist to draw it out of me. It’s not easy, though.”

  “Don’t you think that’s dangerous?” he asked. “What if it’s too much for your brain to handle? Maybe you lost those memories for a reason.”

  “It’s a concern,” I grumbled. “Still, I’ll do anything to get my son back.”

  “Anything?”

  “Anything.”

  I tried to eat another bite of the pastry, but it felt dry on my tongue. The cup of coffee sat steaming next to me, but I knew I couldn’t stomach the acidic beverage. My appetite was already suppressed and my nerves were already jittery. The caffeine would make things far worse.

  “What did it feel like when he did that to you?” he asked.

  I frowned. I had never been asked that, not even by my therapist. Perhaps it was because I am a woman, but it seemed obvious. However, I didn’t know if sexual assault carried the same weight in a man’s eyes. Women were taught to fear it for as long as they understood it was a threat. Men didn’t have to walk home at night with their keys in their fists, ready to strike or run if a man got too close. I knew it wasn’t my job to teach him about it, but if I didn’t educate him, who would?

  “It’s the worst thing a person could do to another,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “It’s used to show power over another. He didn’t desire me—he just wanted to make me feel unsafe. And it worked. I lost the will to live. My husband was gone, and I thought I’d be subjected to that torture forever. I don’t know how I made it out alive, but I did. Looking back, I’m glad I survived. I have a beautiful son and he means the world to me. But nothing scares me more than the prospect of him going through what I did.”

  “Maybe your captor does have feelings for you,” he said. “Why else would he keep you to himself?”

  I rolled my eyes. If this was Jacob being jealous of my rapist, I was not going to be happy. I dismissed the entire thought altogether. I knew that he didn’t like my husband very much, but after what my mom told me about his protective nature, it kind of made sense. However, I would not sit and listen to him if he tried to tell me that he was jealous of the man who’d repeatedly had sex with me without my consent. Not a chance.

  “I’m kind of tired,” I said. “I might go home and try to rest.”

  “Is it something I said?” he asked.

  “No,” I lied. “I just didn’t sleep well.”

  “Stay,” he pleaded. “I’m worried about you. I don’t think you should be alone right now. Why don’t you sleep here until your mother gets home from work?”

  I shook my head after entertaining the idea for a millisecond. I didn’t really want to sleep—that would just invite more nightmares. I also didn’t want to sleep in Jacob’s bed. He would get too much satisfaction out of that.

  “Fine, I’ll stay for a little longer,” I relented. “I just don’t really want to talk about that part of my past, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure,” Jacob said, unperturbed. He took a big bite of his pastry, crumbs falling from his mouth. “So, are you sure that Gregory is being treated the same way you were?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I have no way of knowing. If this monster can treat me like he has, then I think he can do the same with my son. The police are looking at all of the local pedophiles.”

  “What makes you think it was a pedophile?” Jacob asked, furrowing his brow.

  “Who else steals a kid?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Someone who’s obsessed with you. Maybe the guy just wants you and knows that your son is the easiest way to get to you. What do you think your attacker is doing to Gregory?”

  “How should I know?”

  “You know this guy better than anyone else. Think. Maybe it will help you find him.”

  “I try not to.”

  “It might help.”

  I winced as I tried to imagine my captor. He was big and had clammy hands. He slapped me around whenever I wouldn’t comply. He was so rough with me.

  “Gregory is difficult to deal with if you don’t know what makes him tick. What scares me the most is that this man will harm him because he doesn’t understand him. My son can lash out if he gets upset. I don’t want him to get hurt because this man is frustrated with his behavior.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” Jacob said. “How did he hurt you?”

  “He beat me,” I said flatly.

  “Yeah, but how did it feel?”

  I glared at Jacob. I didn’t like how he was using my horror story for his macabre interests. I understood that these types of accounts could be fascinating for some people. I just didn’t think it was very tactful for my friend to ask me such personal questions.

  “Do you know what I can tell you?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. Rage boiled under my skin. “I can tell you that if I ever discover who this sick freak is, I will personally kill him. I’ll bash his brains in with a bat and slit his throat from ear to ear. I’ll effing castrate him if I catch him.”

  This sudden outburst must have startled Jacob because his coffee cup fell out of his hand and coffee splashed all over the table. I stood up quickly so it wouldn’t run onto my lap.

  “I’ll get something to clean that up with,” I said hurriedly, running to grab a towel. He wrenched it from my hands and swept up the liquid. After he wrung the towel into the sink, he sat back down, looking dismayed.

  “I’m sorry if I startled you,” I said sheepishly. “I just get so worked up about this stuff and never have the chance to let it out.”

  “It’s fine,” he said wearily. “ I get it.”

  “Here, take my coffee,” I said, pushing it toward his side of the table. “I don’t think I can drink it anyway.”

  “No, it’s yours,” he insisted.

  I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. I knew I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on Jacob, but there was nothing I could do to help it. I was embarrassed by how I had acted around him.

  “You don’t mean that stuff,” he said softly.

  “Actually, I do,” I said, my voice calmer now. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I stand by what I said. If I can hunt this guy down, I’ll kill him.”

  “Don’t,” Jacob said, shaking his head. “You’re only going to get yourself hurt. Now, drink your coffee and calm down.”

  My phone started buzzing, so I grabbed it from my purse, relieved to have a distraction. After I read the messages, my jaw dropped open.

  “What is it?” Jacob asked nervously. “Did they catch the guy?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “My brother woke up. My mom’s with him now. I have to go.”

  “Wait,” he said, standing up from his chair. “You don’t need to get yourself all worked up. I’m sure he’s fine and you can talk to him later. Just stay here and finish your coffee.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, reaching for my car keys. “I have to go talk to him. He might have some information.”

  Before Jacob could get another word out, I was rushing out the door. I was so relieved that my brother had woken up and scared to hear what he had to say. But I knew that if he happened to see the attacker, he might be able to tell the police something useful.

  As I sped down the street, I didn’t even stop to check my surroundings. Usually, I made sure no one was hiding underneath my car or waiting for me around a corner. But this time, I was only aware of the fact that I needed to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. I didn’t even notice Jacob standing on his front step with his hands on his hips as I drove away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Though I dreaded st
epping foot back in that hospital, I burst through the door and strode up to the front desk. The smell of antiseptic made my skin crawl. It brought me back to my hospital room as I was being notified that my son was missing. My scalp was still bruised from my injury, and when I ran my hands through my hair, I could feel the spot where my skin was stapled back together. My skin was green underneath my eye as the broken blood vessels started to heal. I looked like hell, but I really didn’t care.

  “I’m here to see Tom Templeton,” I said nervously. I clasped my hands together to stop them from shaking, but it was of no use.

  “Ah, yes, you’re his sister, correct?” the friendly man behind the desk asked. He looked down the bridge of his nose through his bifocals as he typed on his computer.

  “That’s correct,” I said meekly. I hoped he recognized me because my mom added me to the list of visitors, not because I was becoming a household name. While I didn’t mind if people knew that there was a missing child to keep an eye out for, I didn’t want to be pitied. My history of violent crimes committed against me was not what I wanted to be known for as a human being.

  “Go through this door and to the left,” he said as I was handed a visitor’s name tag. “He is in Room 204. Your mother is in there now.”

  “Thank you so much,” I said and rushed in the direction of Tom’s room. My heart pounded as I walked and bile rose in my throat. I was afraid to face him.

  When I got to the room, I saw my brother lying in his bed, looking broken. My mom sat by his side, her eyes wet with tears. I quietly opened the door and closed it behind me, slinking into the corner.

  “Hi, Tom,” I said softly, struggling to make eye contact with my older brother. “How are you feeling?”

  He smiled. “Hey, Sis, I’m glad you’re here.”

  I let out a shuddering sigh. My brother was too kind to me. He had always been a supportive big brother, always coming to my aid when I needed it. When I was brought home after being abducted, he took care of me. He was in nursing school at the time and spent his evenings off making sure that I was staying healthy. Being clueless about life when I was pregnant, he guided me through the process, always making sure I was feeling okay and talking through any symptoms or concerns I had. He even stepped in to be a male role model for Gregory since his father was not with us.

  In my life, he had gone above and beyond to ensure that I was happy and healthy. And in return, I had allowed a stranger to enter his life and stab him in the back. He never needed to be part of my nightmare, yet anything I touched was certainly doomed. Because of this, I was racked with horrendous guilt. My family deserved better, yet I couldn’t give that to them.

  I picked up a chart on a side table and flipped through it. It was all medical terminology that flew right over my head. That’s why I liked having my brother around. I could call him if Gregory had a cough or runny nose and he would tell me what to do. In return, any time he struggled with technology, I could set him straight. I had repaired a few hard drives that were on the brink of death and programmed apps into his phone. We worked well that way, always filling in each other’s blind spot.

  “How are you doing?” I asked sheepishly. Tom could hardly keep his eyes open, yet he smiled sleepily at me. I figured he was on a lot of drugs for the pain. I hated seeing him on his back. He was typically so active and lively. While I joked that he had replaced his sports team practices with snack cakes, he was still always on his feet, never stopping to rest.

  “We’re lucky he’s awake,” my mom answered for him. “He’s also lucky he’s not paralyzed. The doctor said that if the knife was just a millimeter closer to his spinal cord, he would never walk again.”

  “Really?” I breathed. I was glad that Tom was okay but sickened by the fact that it was possible that he would never walk again. He loved nursing, and I don’t know what he would have done if he couldn’t walk the halls of the hospital all day.

  “Yep,” she said coldly. “He’s going to have to go through a lot of physical therapy. It could be over a month before he’s back at work. Even then, he’s going to have to take it easy. I just hope he’s able to keep his job.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be able to,” I said, though not entirely sure. “He’s good at his job. They need him.”

  “Well, he’s got a long road to recovery,” she said, stretching her legs in front of her. “Besides the stabbing, he’s got a fractured wrist from the accident. It’s just a hairline fracture, so he’ll get the cast off before he’s done with therapy. He’s got a lot of swelling in his spine, so he’s on a ton of medication. He has to be sedated so he can stay still and not cause any more damage. The surgeons here are excellent. Things could have been a lot worse.”

  “It’s fine,” Tom said. “I’m okay. I’m glad Annabeth is okay. I heard that you hit your head.”

  “Yeah,” I replied casually. “I had a concussion and a few staples in my head.”

  “Ouch,” he replied. “Feeling okay? Any memory loss?”

  “Yep,” I said flatly. “How about you?”

  “Same here,” he slurred. “Mom told me everything she knew. She said we were decorating the Christmas tree when we had a break-in and I got stabbed. Then, Gregory . . .”

  His voice trailed off. My lip quivered when I saw how sad he looked.

  “Do you know anything about where he might be?”

  I shook my head. “I hoped you might know something.”

  “I wish I did. I hope he’s found. I bet you’re so scared.”

  “I am,” I said softly. “The police are working very hard.”

  “Good. There are some good men and women there. They’ll find him.”

  My mom stood up and looked over at Tom. His eyelids were drooping and a thin stream of drool fell onto his pillow.

  “It’s the medication,” she explained. “We should let him rest. His body has undergone extreme trauma and sleep is vital to his recovery.”

  “I hoped he’d remember the attacker.”

  “Maybe he’ll remember when he’s had some rest. You don’t need to bother him while he’s recovering. If he remembers anything, I’m sure he’ll tell you.”

  As we walked out of his room, I looked back at my older brother. He was now sleeping peacefully as the monitor near his bed beeped in a steady rhythm.

  “Leave him alone,” my mom said. “He’s been though enough. This wasn’t his problem to begin with.”

  I bit my tongue so hard that it nearly bled as she marched me out of the hospital. She pulled me into her car, even though mine sat on the other side of the lot.

  “Get in,” she ordered.

  “But mine—”

  “Just do as I say. We need to talk.”

  “You’re right about that,” I retorted. I was becoming increasingly agitated by my mother’s hostility toward me.

  Once the doors were closed and our seatbelts were buckled, she turned toward me, pursed her lips, then turned back toward the steering wheel and started the car.

  “What do you want to say?” I asked as she cruised out of the parking lot.

  “I don’t know. I’m just very worried about your brother.”

  “So am I,” I replied, furrowing my brow. “And I’m worried about my son. In fact, that crazy psycho can swoop in and take me at any moment, but that’s really the least of my concerns at the moment. Actually, I’d say I’m least concerned about the fact that my mother is being very passive-aggressive toward me and I don’t even know what I did.”

  “Tom had nothing to do with this. I’m horribly sorry about your husband and your son. Hell, I’m still messed up about what you went through. But I don’t know why the whole family is being involved. Your brother is so innocent. Now, who knows if he’ll ever return to his former self? He had a bright future ahead of him. He was starting to make some good money. He’d been on dates with some very promising women. You didn’t know this because you were wrapped up in your own world, but he was getting serious with one.”
/>   “I didn’t know that.”

  “Of course, you didn’t,” she snapped. “You were being a paranoid mess. Your son spent so much time at his tutor’s house that he’d accidentally call me by her name. The whole thing just makes me sick. As a mother and a grandmother, I can’t let everyone I care about get hurt. Am I going to be next? Is this sick freak going to come after me because I’m your mother? Why can’t he just . . .”

  Her voice trailed off as she realized she was yelling at her daughter. I sat with a stony expression, not giving her the satisfaction of getting to me.

  “Why can’t he just take me? I’ve wondered the same thing. You don’t have to try too hard to make me feel bad. I already feel terrible about what happened to Tom. I’m obviously distraught that my son is missing. I would be devastated if anything happened to you. You can’t make me feel worse than I already do. I can’t go much lower. Is this what you want to do? Did you want to berate me for having a stalker that I can’t shake?”

  My mom sighed dramatically and took the next corner a little too fast for my liking. Fortunately, if we got pulled over, any cop in the area would recognize us. I was becoming the town’s freak show.

  “You’ve got to know something, Annabeth. How could you acquire a stalker? Who have you met that could take an interest in you and go so far as to harm your family? Was there someone in college who was pissed at Greg? Did you go on any dates before him?”

  “No!” I answered loudly. “I mean, I don’t remember anyone. Maybe there was someone and I’m just blacking out his face.”

  “That’s just too convenient,” she groaned. “You’ve experienced so much, yet you can’t give any helpful information.”

  “I’m trying,” I cried. “I really am.”

  “Yeah, I know,” she said harshly. “I just wish you’d try a little harder. There’s so much at stake here. The police need information from you. Everyone knows you have it, but you’re not allowing yourself to release it.”

  “Take that up with my therapist, won’t you? In the meantime, do you want me to move out so I won’t endanger you?”