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

by Cole Baxter

  In one of my anxious, sleepless nights as a young mother, I’d made the mistake of researching child sex trafficking. Even though my son was always under the close supervision of a trusted adult, the fear of his being taken for someone else’s use crept into my head. I read articles about children being trained by older adults to comply with their wishes. I was stunned by how easily children could be tricked into thinking that deviant behavior was perfectly normal and safe. Now, I realized that I was one of them. He’d made me think that I had a cool, mature friend. All the while, I was dealing with a monster who wanted me all to himself.

  I felt incredibly stupid for overlooking the most obvious suspect this whole time. While I was stressing, trying to remember someone I didn’t even know, the guy who had been there the entire time was being so blatant with his involvement. I was going to be kidnapped again and it was all my fault.

  In my defense, I had been concussed on numerous occasions and had stress-related amnesia. My memories were as spotty and unreliable as they came. Add the amount of stress I was dealing with from having my son abducted from right in front of me and my brother in the ICU, and it was a wonder that I was even functional at all. Still, I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t. I was the only one to blame. Well, besides my stalker.

  Even with all the evidence stacking up against Jacob, I searched my mind for any reason why it couldn’t be him. I so badly wanted it to be a horrible stranger who’d caught a glimpse of me walking down the street one day and decided to take me to act out his perverse fantasies. I wanted it to be someone who had committed other crimes and hurt other people, so when he was locked up, the world would be a safer place. Instead, it was my friend—someone I thought was looking out for my best interests. In the end, he couldn’t even recognize my best interests if he tried. He could only see his.

  Looking back, I knew he’d hated Greg. Greg was everything Jacob wasn’t. Greg was handsome, athletic, and social. He was a brave military man who had strong morals and virtues. He was popular in his social circles and my parents loved him. Most importantly, I loved him. He meant the world to me, and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I could see why Jacob wanted him out of the picture.

  Even still, I couldn’t understand how the man who had been so kind to me could abuse me so horribly, kill my husband, and abduct my intellectually disabled son. It was beyond evil.

  The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to rip his throat out right then and there. Even if I forgot about all the harm he’d caused my loved ones, it would be justifiable to slaughter him in his work trailer. I felt memories drift into my head like the wind outside the office. I remembered the fear I felt when I woke up in a dark maze, my husband gone. I remembered his hot, foul breath in my face as he forced himself inside me. I cried in pain, having only experienced that action once in my life by a man I feared to be dead. He wasn’t loving or gentle in the least. He was rough and aggressive, and it only got worse the more I resisted him. He laughed as he took my innocence and purposefully made it unbearable, though afterward, he tried to convince me that I loved every moment of it.

  In the years past, he had ruined me for all other men. I couldn’t go on a date without fearing that my rapist was the kind man on the other side of the dinner table. I certainly couldn’t sleep with anyone, assuming that sex was directly linked to pain. I sabotaged many promising relationships because I was terrified of my life crashing down on me again. Besides, I had my son, and he was enough of a handful for me.

  “Do you think he’ll get better?” Jacob asked. “Does he remember anything yet?”

  “Huh?” I asked, feeling dazed. Then I remembered what we were talking about. “Oh, no, he doesn’t remember anything. I doubt he will. I’m just hoping he gets moved from the ICU soon so he can go home. Do you want to go see him later?” I asked, trying to convince him of anything that would keep me out of his clutches for just a while longer. “It would mean a lot to me if you did,” I said flirtatiously. “We could go right now.”

  “Maybe later,” he said cryptically, unconvinced by my doe eyes. “I have to stick around the site for just a little while longer.”

  He looked at me with my phone in my hands and squinted his eyes a little. “Who are you talking to now?”

  “Still my mom,” I lied. I texted Gabriel to tell him that I was with Jacob and asked if I should be concerned. I already knew the answer to that question.

  Where are you?! Get out of there as soon as possible. Let me know where you end up. If you can, come to the police station.

  I texted him the approximate location of the construction site. Because it was a new build, there weren’t any city streets that led up to the place. It was also on the complete other side of town from the police station. I hoped he could find it quickly.

  “What does she want?” Jacob asked, a little hostility in his voice. He knew that something wasn’t right.

  “She just wants to make sure I’m updated on his condition,” I said, feeling more anxious by the minute. “I’m really worried about him, you know?”

  “Give me the phone,” he said. “You don’t need to be bothered at a time like this. All she does is stress you out.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, dropping my phone into my purse. I told Gabriel everything he needed to know to find me. All I had to do now was sit and wait.

  “No, it’s not fine,” he said angrily, wrenching my purse away from me. He flung it toward the back of the trailer. My phone, my pepper spray, and my car keys were in there. Without them, I was completely defenseless.

  “I need to go to the hospital,” I said. “I told my mom that I would be there soon,” I lied. “If I’m not there soon, she’ll start to worry.”

  “Where does she think you are?” he asked quizzically.

  “I told her I was coming here to talk to you,” I said, wide-eyed and innocent. “She told me to have fun and that she’d keep in touch if she found out more about my brother.”

  “I thought you said no one knew you were here?” he asked. I didn’t remember saying that in those words.

  “Did I?” I giggled nervously. “I don’t know what I said. My head’s been all over the place. Nope, I told my mom before I got here that I was headed to talk to you about the maze. Why do you ask?”

  “Nothing,” he grumbled.

  I looked around the trailer. Not too far from his chair sat a large kitchen knife. If I made a run for the door, he’d get to me first. If I tried to grab the knife, he’d snag it first. I heard machinery in the distance. It was loud—so loud that I doubted anyone would hear my screams. From what I could tell, the trailer sat about a quarter-mile away from the construction site. The workers wouldn’t be any help to me.

  I was trapped, so I needed to be smart about getting out alive. Jacob liked games, so if I played along, hopefully, he wouldn’t become too agitated. If his temper came out, I would be dead. If I played into his hands, he would at least be pleased enough to keep me intact. As much as I wanted to kick him in the crotch and spit in his face, it would not be wise. I had to give him exactly what he wanted in order to survive.

  He sighed and looked at me. “I just want you to be happy, Annabeth. Nobody sees that. Your mother doesn’t like me, your dead husband didn’t like me, your brother doesn’t like me, and I don’t even think you like me.”

  “Of course, I do,” I said, nearly crying. “Why would you ever think that? You’re one of my dearest friends.”

  “Friends,” he spat, as though it was a dirty word. “Anyone can be a friend. I waited around for you for so long, Annabeth. I’ve been waiting for you since the day we met.”

  “I was a child,” I said, my voice shaking. “What could you possibly want with a child?”

  “You’ve never wanted me, but I’ve always been there for you. I helped you relearn computer functions after you forgot them all. Without me, you’d be nowhere. All I wanted was to go on a date, and you couldn’t even give me the courtesy of going
to dinner with me.”

  My mouth gaped open. “Jacob, my son is missing! How am I supposed to even think about romance when I’m terrified that he’s hurt? I need my son more than anything. I can’t possibly exist without him.”

  “And I needed you,” he argued. “Why can’t I have what I want?”

  My heart was pounding so hard I could see it pulse through my shirt. I needed to get out of the trailer. Jacob was becoming seriously agitated and I didn’t want to be there when he exploded.

  “I really need to go to the hospital,” I said. “My mom is waiting on me. Can I get my purse back?”

  He thought for a moment. I flinched as he stood up from the table. “I’ll take you.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll take you to the hospital,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I should see your brother. You’re right—it would mean a lot to your family if I was there.”

  “Really?” I asked, floored by his change of thought. If Gabriel was right about his being a psychopath, maybe that meant that he was a little narcissistic as well. Perhaps he really believed that his presence would make things better for everyone. I ran with the idea.

  “Sure. I’ll drive,” he said, sounding dejected.

  “We can both drive,” I offered eagerly.

  “Just let me do something nice for you, damn it!” he growled.

  I backpedaled. “Okay, that would be nice. Thank you. It really means a lot to me.”

  I followed him out to his car, my instinct telling me to bolt. But unless the cops could arrive any sooner, it would be too easy for him to run me over in the car. Once we got to the hospital, I could get to a phone and call the police. With so many people around, he wouldn’t dare try to harm anyone. I just had to keep him happy until then.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when we got onto the main road. He hummed along to the music on the radio, suddenly in better spirits. I tried to play the damsel in distress all the way to the hospital, just to seal the deal.

  “Maybe we could try to date when this nightmare is over,” I lied, batting my eyelashes at him. “It’s just been so stressful with Greg missing. If I had my baby back in my arms, I’d be so happy, I think I’d do just about anything. I’d be more open to the idea of dating then. I just wish we could find him.”

  “Yeah?” Jacob said, a small smile forming on his lips. He couldn’t help himself. He was obsessed with me and ate up every sickly-sweet lie I had to offer. And to think, I was terrified that he wouldn’t let me go. Now, he was driving me to the hospital where security guards stood at the door, just because I batted my eyelashes at him and asked nicely. If I had known that it was so easy to get what I want with him, just by flirting, I would have tried it a long time ago. I figured I could get Greg back if I played my cards right, but I could also just call the police and have them deal with it. I couldn’t wait to see Jacob’s dumb face from the back of a police car.

  My muscles started to relax as we came within a few blocks of the hospital. I was so close to being free. Once there, I would excuse myself to go to the bathroom, then find the closest phone and call 911. Then, I would alert security to my situation. Greg would be found by the end of the day. I fidgeted with the seatbelt, eager to get there.

  A police siren went off in the distance. Jacob sat up a little straighter and stared at me.

  “You told your precious police officer that I was with you, didn’t you? What else did you tell him?”

  “What are you talking about?” I cried. I was beginning to sweat. “I haven’t talked to him.”

  “I can go back and check your phone right now,” he said, stopping at an intersection. The seatbelt pressed hard against my chest.

  “We’re almost at the hospital,” I pleaded.

  “You’re playing me,” he said. “I don’t like that.”

  He spun his car around and started speeding off in the opposite direction. I unbuckled my seatbelt and reached for the handle. But, by this time, he was speeding so fast that I was sure I wouldn’t survive if I jumped.

  “Where are we going?” I asked frantically.

  “Home,” he said firmly. “Now shut up, if you know what’s good for you.”

  I gritted my teeth, trying hard not to cry. I knew that he was taking me to the maze—he didn’t even have to say so.

  I had a brief moment of hope in the terror I felt. I may be on my way to an underground maze I’d never escape, but at least I would see my son. Now, I just needed a way to make sure we both stayed alive.

  I realized we were going to his house and needed to come up with a new plan. If I ran for it when we got to the driveway, he would take his anger out on Gregory. He didn’t deserve that. I needed to be brave for my son.

  “I don’t feel good,” I said.

  “You’re fine,” he growled.

  “I’m feeling really drowsy,” I whined. “I really don’t feel right. Did you put something in my drink?”

  He raised his eyebrows, surprised that his plan was working out. “Just close your eyes and rest,” he said.

  “I’m scared,” I cried.

  “Just sleep,” he said. “Everything will be okay.”

  I closed my eyes and slumped down in my seat, trying to convincingly fake sleep. It must have worked, because he started humming along to the radio again. I kept my eyes shut tight, even when I felt the car lurch upward toward the garage. Finally, he stopped the car and closed his garage door behind him.

  I slowed down my breathing as much as I could, practicing coping techniques that Dr. Andrews taught me. When he picked me up from the passenger’s seat, I went completely limp in his arms. I kept my eyes closed and focused on his steps so I would know exactly where he was going. If he believed that I was truly unconscious, he wouldn’t need to be as cautious in his attempt to cover his tracks.

  Jacob carried me about ten steps into the garage before I heard him open a hatch with one hand. Then, we descended into the ground via a long staircase of wooden steps, each one squeaking underneath our weight. My brain was flooded with fear as the familiar musty scent returned to me. I fought my body to stay still when I really wanted to fight. We must have traveled two stories below the ground before he dumped me onto the cold, hard floor.

  “Home, sweet home,” he muttered under his breath as he rummaged through his key ring. I heard the click of the lock and something inside me told me it was time to fight for my life.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  From what I remembered of my childhood with Jacob, I knew that he liked weapons. For someone who wasn’t particularly active or outdoorsy, I found this quirk quite peculiar. On his fifteenth birthday, his father had given him a fancy pocketknife that once belonged to his grandfather. He liked it so much that he was given a hunting knife the next year, in hopes that he would take to hunting like his father. However, the interest wasn’t quite there. He liked to wear it on his hip but didn’t care for sitting out in the cold all day, waiting for an animal to be shot down. Then, he despised how the animal smelled after being gutted and cleaned.

  It wasn’t that he was turned off by the killing or violence of it all. He was rather indifferent to that. He even liked the thick, juicy sausages his mom cooked up once the animal came back from being processed. However, Jacob hated spending time with the good ol’ boys his father hunted with. They always ribbed on him for not having a girlfriend and teased him when he did something that was not deemed masculine.

  So, after a few of these trips, Jacob quit hunting and continued to wear the knife on his person whenever he could get away with it. This was a habit that he apparently carried into his adult years, as evidenced by the top of the knife handle that dug into the side of my temple as he carried me down the stairs.

  Once the lock was open, I knew that I was finally in a good position to fight. My son was on one side of me, and freedom was on the other. I just needed to remove the monster beside me.

  When he wasn’t paying attention to me, I jumped up and
pulled the knife from the holster and stabbed it deep into his fleshy thigh. He howled in pain, shocked that I was able to harm him.

  For a moment, I wish I would have aimed straight for the heart or neck, but this was a good start. From what I remember about the anatomy of the leg, there were lots of blood vessels that could cause a person to bleed out if severed. I didn’t know if I hit one of them, but he seemed to be seriously disarmed for the time being. And if he wanted to stab me with that weapon, he’d have to yank it out of his own leg. If he knew anything about basic first aid, he’d realize that it could be a fatal mistake.

  I made a run for it. Screaming my son’s name, I went into the maze to search for him. It didn’t take more than a few steps for my PTSD to kick in, rendering me a blubbering mess.

  I knew that the memories of the place would mess with my head, but nothing could have prepared me for this. I needed my therapist by my side, telling me that no one could hurt me. I tried to tell myself that, but I couldn’t be convinced.

  The light from the top of the stairs was enough to provide me with a little insight as to where I was headed. At the very least, I could see my hand in front of my face.

  “Gregory?” I called. “It’s Mom. Where are you?”

  I listened intently but heard nothing but Jacob’s moans of pain. I kept running, hoping I would eventually run into my son. But the further I got into the maze, the harder I was hit with painful flashbacks.

  As my shoulder grazed a wall, I remembered Jacob making fun of me for being so scared. He’d taunted me about my husband, saying that he wasn’t so big and strong with a bullet in the back of his head. He’d imitated the sounds that Greg made as he died, mixed with his imitation of a pig squealing. I screamed and sobbed, begging him to stop, but he wouldn’t. Jacob had a terrifying temper that flared up at random.