by Cole Baxter
“That’s great!” she exclaimed.
“I know,” I replied, a smile on my face. “I haven’t heard him wake up in the middle of the night for the past two nights.
“How about you?” she asked, directing her questioning toward me.
I sighed. “I’m still having nightmares. It’s always similar to the ones I talked about in our session,” I said cryptically, not wanting my son to hear what I had been dreaming of when I fell asleep beside him.
The nightmares were always the same. I’d find myself locked in the maze with Jacob while he was abusing me. In some dreams, Gregory would be standing a few feet away, just watching as Jacob performed unspeakable acts. Gloria suggested that I was worried about his innocence being taken. I had to agree with her assessment.
Dr. Andrews was constantly reminding me how resilient children were. Though my son had his own unique traits, the way his brain worked seemed to make no difference in how he processed trauma. He would certainly be affected by his kidnapping, but with regular therapy, Dr. Andrews believed that he would be able to live a normal life. And it appeared that he was already recovering, less than two weeks after the whole ordeal.
“I haven’t taken any sleeping pills since Sunday,” I added, trying to create a positive spin for myself. I needed all the victories I could get.
“That’s good.” She smiled. “You’re finding that it’s easier to fall asleep initially and go back to sleep after a nightmare?”
I nodded. “I’m still not sleeping through the night, but I’m less worried that I’m in danger. Sometimes, I’ll get up and check the alarms and sensors to make sure they’re working, but then I’ll remind myself that he’s dead and he can’t hurt us anymore.”
“And that’s exactly what you should be telling yourself,” she replied. “I must say, the two of you have made great strides. You should be proud of yourselves.”
“We couldn’t have done it without you,” I said gratefully. “If we hadn’t tried hypnotherapy, we might still be looking for him. Or, things could have been a lot worse for us.”
“Oh, you did all the hard work,” she said. “I just tried to guide you through. Well, we’re all done for today. Will we see you on Friday?”
“We’ll be here.” I smiled, resting my hand on Gregory’s head. I ruffled his hair, even though he didn’t like it when I did so.
After therapy, I took Gregory to my mom’s house for dinner. She met him at the door with a hug. Much to my surprise, he accepted it.
“How did it go?” she asked as I walked into the kitchen and set his backpack on the table.
“Really well,” I replied. “I’m really proud of him.”
“Me too,” she said warmly. “I know it’s been tough for him, but I think he’s really growing up. He’s not a little baby anymore.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” I groaned.
My mom put her hand on my shoulder. “I think he’ll be just fine.”
“I hope so. Does Tom still plan on coming to my place tomorrow?”
“Yes, he’s being discharged at two. Can you still pick him up? I’m working.”
“Yeah, just double-checking,” I replied. I’m going to have to take some boxes out of the spare room before then.”
“You’re still not unpacked?” my mom asked, a look of surprise on her face.
“I haven’t had a lot of time.” I laughed. “I started with all of Gregory’s stuff, but I haven’t had the chance to dig through my stuff yet. I keep thinking I have more time before Tom gets out of the hospital.”
“Do you want him to come here instead?” she asked, arching her brows.
“No,” I protested. “We already decided that it was best if he stayed with us for at least a few weeks. Besides, you have to work. I can work and keep an eye on him. It’s better this way.”
“If you’re sure,” she said. “It’s so quiet here without you.”
“Well, you can have this kid as much as you want,” I said, nodding toward Gregory, who was running laps around the living room. “He’s all yours.”
“Good.” She smiled. “Now, are you going to take your jacket off and stay a while?”
I looked at my watch. “I’ll be back before you sit down for supper,” I said. “I have to run to the police station.”
“What now?” she groaned.
“Nothing,” I said reassuringly. “I just have to sign a few statements. Apparently, I forgot to the last time I was there.”
“Well, be quick. The casserole will be ready in twenty-two minutes.”
“Got it,” I said before dashing out of the house.
As I made my way to the police station, I found myself hoping that Gabriel hadn’t gone home for the day yet. Out of all the police officers, he was by far my favorite. He was one of the few who made me feel like he actually gave a crap about my concerns. The others were diligent in their questioning, but they didn’t have the same warmth that Gabriel had.
I even had a word with the police captain about how he had downgraded my case right before I was taken to the maze. He was very apologetic, but he didn’t seem sincere. Afterward, I simply told him that it was important to take child kidnapping cases more seriously, and if it hadn’t been for Gabriel, we would both be dead. It was hard to be calm and reasonable when I spoke to him, because all I wanted to do was scream in his face for nearly losing my son forever. But in the end, I think I got my point across rather nicely. If not, then the community members who wrote to him after my story was printed in the newspaper helped drive that point home.
Luckily, Gabriel’s face was the first one I saw when I walked into the station. He looked surprised to see me. I found it rather charming. I think he was a few years younger than me, but he had the boyish charm of a guy fresh out of college. Even though his life hadn’t been easy, he still had the attitude of someone whose work had yet to break him down. A lot of the officers seemed jaded and uninterested, but he took every little piece of information to heart, no matter how trivial they seemed. I hoped he’d always be that way.
“Oh, you’re here for that paperwork,” he said, smacking his palm to his face. “I totally forgot. It’s been a long day.”
“Did you get a new case?” I asked.
“I’ve got a couple. That’s not the issue, though. I just got a call from my daughter’s daycare. Apparently, there’s been a lice outbreak and there’s a chance she might have it. I was running out to get shampoo and a comb before picking her up. I’ve never dealt with this before.”
“I’m sorry.” I giggled. “I’ve been there before. Don’t forget to wash all of your clothes and linens in hot water. I guess I’ll have one of the officers guide me through whatever it is I need to do.”
“No, I’ll do it,” he said hastily, guiding me toward his office. “The paperwork is in here, anyway. Just sign your name next to the tags. You can read it if you want, but it’s just your words.”
“Cool,” I said, scribbling my name on each page.
“Is your brother home?” he asked.
“Tomorrow,” I answered. “He’s doing so much better, and he’s so eager to get out of the hospital. Gregory’s doing really well, too. His therapist is impressed by how well he’s doing.”
“That’s good to hear. I’ve seen people who have wounds like his, and a lot of times, it takes months until they’re functional again. And you have such a good son. I remember your saying that he doesn’t talk much, but I looked at one of his interview tapes and he was chattering away.”
I laughed. “He was happy because you guys got him chicken strips and soda. And he likes talking about puzzles, and the maze was kind of like a puzzle to him.”
“Well, I certainly learned a lot from him. So, how are you doing?”
“Fine,” I said, a smile on my face, though it didn’t quite feel genuine. “I’m hanging in there, at least.”
“That’s more than anyone could expect of you,” he said earnestly. He lifted his hand like he was
going to rest it on my shoulder, but he quickly dropped it back to his side. “Well, that’s all I have for you now,” he said, shuffling the papers back into his file folder. I’m sure someone’s talked to you about civil suits—”
“I don’t know,” I groaned. “His parents used to live next door. They’re good people and I don’t want their money. It’s not their fault he turned out so bad. And actually, they offered me a good chunk of his money because they felt so bad. But I feel weird about gaining from his money. I’m doing okay on my own. If anything, I’ll just set up a college account or trust fund for my son and call it good. The less I have to think about him, the better.”
“That’s very noble of you,” he said. “I don’t know if I could say no to that money if I were in that situation.”
“Maybe I’ll tell his parents to make a donation to the police department. Maybe then your colleagues will take more interest in a Special Victims Unit.”
“That could be useful.” He sighed. “Well, it’s been a crazy few weeks, hasn’t it? I feel weird that I won’t be seeing you regularly, but I guess that’s a good thing, right?”
“I suppose so.” I chuckled. “I hope I never have to return to a police station ever again, no offense.”
He laughed. “None taken.”
“You should probably go home,” I said. “It sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
“It’s always something with two little girls in the house, that’s for sure.”
He walked with me through the station and to the parking lot. I gave him an awkward wave and unlocked my car.
“Wait,” he said, rushing over to me. “I don’t think there’s a way to do this that isn’t totally inappropriate, but I was wondering if you’d want to go out sometime, like for coffee or lunch or something. I know that you probably don’t want to right now, but—”
“I’ve got your number, Detective,” I said wryly. “I think we’ve both got a lot going on at home right now, but if things ever slow down, I might give you a call. Just promise me you won’t wait by your phone. I don’t do well with desperate types.”
“Of course.” He grinned. “Have a good evening, Ms. Simmons.”
I got into my car and waited until he was a safe distance away before breaking out into giggles. I wasn’t looking to get into a relationship, but it was such a relief that the guy who was into me was actually a good person. It was as good as it got after a decade of torture.
About Cole Baxter
Cole Baxter loves writing psychological suspense thrillers. It’s all about that last reveal that he loves shocking readers with.
He grew up in New York, where there crime was all around. He decided to turn that into something positive with his fiction.
His stories will have you reading through the night—they are very addictive!
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Also by Cole Baxter
Stolen Son