Lost Summer: A Gripping Romantic Suspense

by M T Stone

  It was a beautiful morning with clear blue skies when she pulled into the airport parking lot. Her husband was already inside the small terminal, motivating the search party leaders and discussing the few leads that had trickled in overnight. Instead of joining him, she made a beeline to an idling helicopter whose pilot had been anticipating her arrival. “Good morning, Olivia. You’ll be flying with Greg Anderson this morning,” Sergeant Reed informed her as she approached the whirling blades. “Hang onto your sunglasses.”

  “Hello, Ma’am.” Greg motioned for her to settle into the passenger seat next to him. “We’ll get underway as soon as you are all strapped in.” He leaned over and held up the buckle for her to insert the other end into. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna find her,” he assured her before pulling down his sun visor and revving the engine.

  “I sure hope so,” she muttered as the helicopter began to shake prior to lifting from the asphalt.

  “There will be two more choppers coming behind us, as well as three coming from the north,” he informed her. “We’ll start on the western edge of the search area and work our way east using Medicine Lake as the northern pivot point.”

  Olivia’s mind began to wander as she gazed out the window at the highway below. There were several search and rescue vehicles already heading west, and numerous others would be joining them as the morning progressed. She was comforted by the sheer size of the search party, but the fact that no solid leads had come as a result of the APB and Amber Alerts bothered her tremendously. It meant that the abductor had most likely hunkered down somewhere prior to daylight, and that creepy looking man with the white panel van had been a stranger to everyone. If anyone did recognize him, the rich reward they were offering would definitely prod them to come forward.

  It took all of her strength to hold back her tears as the vast fields slowly transformed into rolling hills dotted with trees. By the time they reached the western edge of the search area, she began to realize what a daunting task it would be to find her beloved daughter. She strained to see any signs of life within each patch of trees that appeared beneath them. Little did she know, they were about to fly directly over Summer’s location on their very first pass. Both she and Greg noticed the small body of water where an unnamed stream emptied into a low area. In fact, Olivia gazed directly at the small island near the north end of it, but it appeared to be nothing more than a mound of grass and dirt. Had they gone in for a closer look, they may have noticed the black solar panels on the south side of the hill or spotted the small rowboat parked in the thicket of cattails on the north shore of the island. Instead, they were both focused on spotting a white delivery van which was well hidden beneath an overgrown Russian Olive. If only a sixth sense could’ve told her that her daughter was being held by a chain and shackle beneath the grassy knoll. If only . . . two words that carry the potential to change almost anything.

  Chapter 10

  Leo put just enough butter in the skillet to ensure the eggs wouldn’t stick before returning the butter dish to the cupboard at the opposite end of the room. He gave her a sideways glance, letting her know that he suspected that she had intentionally dropped the butter the prior evening. After putting it away, he turned and walked straight past her toward the bed. She could hear him shuffling through a drawer, but she remained focused on cracking eggs into the pan. She silently prayed that he wasn’t cleaning out the top drawer of the nightstand, but in her heart, she knew it to be the case.

  She sprinkled salt and pepper on the eggs, having watched her mother do it hundreds of times. She listened to Leo’s every move while poking at the edges of them, impatiently waiting for the right moment to flip them over. She lifted the corner of one of the slices of bread that Leo had placed near the back of the stovetop. The light brown color indicated that it was time to flip them to the other side. A small glint of satisfaction momentarily eased her tension upon seeing the perfectly toasted bread. She attempted to slide the metal spatula under one of the eggs, but it was solidly glued to the pan. Her mother had always made it look effortless, but she used cooking spray and non-stick cookware instead of an old cast iron pan that had been skimpily buttered. “I hope you like scrambled eggs,” she announced over her left shoulder, realizing it was the only viable option.

  “That’s how I make ‘em too,” Leo replied, moving past her and going back to the cupboard where he had placed the butter.

  “What are those?” she asked as he pushed a cluster of shiny objects out of the way.

  “Dad’s war medals,” Leo replied, holding them up and tilting the box toward her so she could see them. “This one’s a purple heart, this is a bronze star, and this one is some kind of service medal. One day last spring, I saw a truck sitting over on the bank next to the van. When I went over to see who it was, a couple of guys who said they were ex-marines had brought my dad’s medals. Apparently, Dad had never picked them up.”

  “Wow, they considered your dad to be quite a hero,” she replied after seeing the trio of shiny medallions.

  “Yeah, he risked his life to save his men, but he was no hero to me.” He snapped the box shut and reached up behind the cook stove. He pulled a brick from the chimney, revealing a clever hiding spot. “This was my secret hiding spot when I was a kid.” He placed the small box behind it and slid the brick back into place. He walked back over to the cupboard and this time returned with the butter dish, two plates, and a knife. “I like butter on my toast.”

  “Me too.” She lifted the toasted bread from the stove and slid it onto the plates. Leo seemed impressed by her toast making abilities and quickly slathered them with butter before holding out a plate in anticipation of some eggs to go with it. She gave him the majority, keeping only a small portion for herself. She was still trying to befriend him, so giving him more than his fair share was an obvious gesture.

  “I really don’t like cooking,” Leo admitted through a mouthful of food. He was literally devouring his portion, but he took a few seconds to look up in anticipation of her answer.

  “I don’t have a lot of experience, but I kind of like it,” she replied, knowing that cooking skills might be something that he would value in addition to her childbearing ability. The thought of bearing his child immediately squelched her appetite. She pushed her eggs around the plate and took a bite of her toast, hoping it would settle her stomach. She needed to find a way to get him out of the house so she could determine whether she was able to free herself.

  She had spent the long, sleepless night thinking about escape plans. If she could convince him to go for supplies, she would free herself, go to the water, gauge the depth, and decide whether she could make it across. If the water was too deep to get across, she would have to wait for him to come back with the boat. She would put blankets over the pillows in the middle of the bed in the hopes it would give her enough time to hop into the rowboat and make a break for the other shore. Before leaving, she would search for any spare keys to the van. If there weren’t any, she would have to make her way up to the road and find a hiding spot as close to it as possible. There probably wasn’t much traffic out here, but with any luck, someone would be searching in the area.

  She shifted in her chair nervously, knowing that her desperate plan was a treacherous one. She had no idea how deep the water was or what lurked beneath it. If she found keys for the van, she would most likely have enough time to get the van started and make it to the road before Leo was able to swim across. That assumed that she could get the rowboat away from shore before he discovered that she was missing. If any part of her plan failed, she would be facing severe retribution. Her stomach groaned loudly.

  “What’s wrong?” Leo asked, looking up from his breakfast.

  “I miss my family and friends,” she replied, keeping her head down. A faint thumping sound that grew persistently louder halted their conversation. Summer instantly recognized that it was a helicopter and she knew without a doubt that it was searching for her. “They’re looking f
or me,” she whispered, raising her eyes to meet his.

  Leo bolted from his chair and headed over to the doorway, keeping his body inside the door frame while peering out. The helicopter was at least a mile to the west and disappeared as quickly as it had come. “I love this place,” he sneered, coming back to the table and retaking his seat. “This house just looks like a plain old hill from above. I put the solar panels on the sides of the dirt pile, so they blend right in too,” he added with a proud grin. “Just so you know, I’m not going anywhere today. We’re gonna stay hunkered down as long as they’re searching for you.”

  She wanted to tell him that her parents would keep on searching until they found her. She wanted to add that she was going to find a way to escape this hellhole or die trying, that being dead was a better alternative than staying with him and bearing him a son. Did he really think he could steal her life and that she would simply go along with it? There was no way in hell. His father might have ruined his life, but that didn’t give him the right to ruin hers. She turned her eyes back to her plate and finished her breakfast. She was going to need her strength.

  After picking up sandwiches and coffee in town, Carson was growing increasingly restless. As the two finished their breakfast, a pair of search helicopters flew over their position. One continued west, while the other turned and headed straight north. He knew they were splitting up the territory and flying a grid pattern, making note of any potential hideouts. “Those guys better be sharp today. He’s out here somewhere,” Carson muttered.

  “They are out here somewhere,” Dylan corrected. “We’re going to find her alive and well.”

  “They’re out here, I meant to say.” Carson smirked, turning the key to start the SUV. He pulled onto the pavement and headed north, looking at a map on his phone. “There’s a farm just up the road a way. I’ll stop in and see if anyone recognizes the van. I’m sure there aren’t too many white delivery vans out this far.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Dylan agreed. “It didn’t seem very productive to sit in one spot. If he has any brains at all, he’s not going to be out driving around.”

  “Yeah, something tells me that he might be backward, but he’s obviously not stupid.” Soon after the pavement changed over to gravel, Carson pulled off the road and into the driveway of the first farm. “You just stay here. I’ll go up and see if anyone is around.”

  Dylan pulled out his phone to kill some time. He felt an urge to send Summer a text message, but knew that her parents would be the only ones to see it. He opened Facebook and clicked on a picture of her. “God, I miss you,” he whispered, running his fingertip along her cheek. “We’re going to find you today, and then I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” For a brief second, he let himself think the worst and a lump instantly formed in his throat. He cleared his throat and forced back his fears, seeing his uncle headed back toward the vehicle.

  “No one here. There’s another farm about two miles up the road.” He threw it in reverse and backed the vehicle around. “You were looking at her picture again, weren’t you?”

  “I can’t help it.” Dylan crammed the phone into his front pocket. “I don’t know what I’ll do if something happened to her. If she hadn’t been so drunk, this probably wouldn’t have happened. The wine was my idea.”

  “It’s too late to change what happened.” Carson gave him a stern look. “You and I are going to do everything in our power to track her down. There are a dozen old farms scattered about north of here. I guarantee at least one of them has noticed a piece of shit white delivery van driving around out here.”

  “I know. I’d just feel like shit if something happened to her.” Dylan turned back toward the window, trying to focus on the horizon. The pain jabbing through the center of his gut remained as a constant reminder of his guilt. For years, he had dreamed of being with this girl, and now in an instant, she had disappeared from his life.

  “Buck up, bud. I need you to keep your eyes open and pay attention to the most minute details. There are always little clues if you can spot them,” Carson instructed. “Pay close attention to any tire tracks you see heading off the beaten path. He most likely took her into the woods somewhere.”

  The two men drove in silence toward the next little farm, each one lost in his own stream of thoughts. Carson was always enthralled by the idea of a good manhunt, so the addition of a million-dollar bounty had him extremely focused. He monitored every transmission in real-time as they came across the radio to keep abreast of feedback from the pilots and the other ground search teams.

  He saw a man walking to his mailbox as they approached the next farm yard. He pulled over and rolled down the window. “Hello, sir. We’re searching for a missing seventeen-year-old girl, and we have reason to believe that the man responsible was driving this van.” He lifted his phone to show the man a picture captured by one of the surveillance cameras.

  “I’ve seen one like that,” the man replied, rotating the phone to get a better look. “Yeah, it’s an old delivery van like that.”

  Dylan perked up in his seat. “Do you know where he lives?”

  “No. I’ve just seen the van go by a few times, so I imagine he either lives north of here or has some business up there.” The man pulled back from the phone and looked over at Dylan. “How old’s the girl?”

  “Seventeen,” Dylan answered with a raise of his eyebrows.

  “Oh, lord, that’s terrible,” the old man replied, shaking his head. “I sit out on the porch almost every evening. Can I give you a call if I see anything?”

  “Of course,” Carson replied, handing him a business card. “Call the cell number at the bottom.”

  “I’ll do that.” The man looked closely at the card. “DEA, huh? Is he a drug dealer or something?”

  “No. This one’s personal. A family friend.” Carson slid his phone back into his shirt pocket.

  “Well, good luck.” The old man stuck out his hand to shake Carson’s. “I hope to hell you find him . . . and the girl too.”

  “Me too,” both men replied simultaneously. Carson gave the man a nod and threw the SUV in gear, pulling back onto the road. He gave Dylan a self-satisfied smile as they took off toward the next farm. “See . . . we’re definitely on the right track. All we have to do is talk to everyone we can find.”

  “I believe you.” Dylan cracked his first smile of the day. His uncle was proving his superior investigative skills at every turn, and for the first time, he truly believed that they were going to not only find her, but rescue her.

  A tingling feeling filtered through him as he thought about rescuing the woman he loved. He pictured the look of adoration on her face as he burst through the door and swept her up in his arms. A surge of testosterone quickened his pulse as he pictured himself kicking the perpetrator’s ass. He would use every ounce of strength to destroy the man, regardless of who he was.

  “Now what are you thinking about?” Carson asked, noticing the change in his expression.

  “Kicking ass!” Dylan replied, punching a fist into the palm of his other hand.

  “Now, that’s the attitude I’ve been waiting to see,” Carson told him. “I knew there was a tough kid inside there somewhere. You’ve always been a fighter. Don’t lose that whenever the going gets tough. That fight is what gets you through the hard times.”

  Dylan nodded in agreement. His childhood hadn’t been easy, but it had given him an inner strength and had maybe hardened him a bit. He smirked as a feeling of certainty and conviction began to replace the guilt and fear.

  Chapter 11

  The second time Olivia flew over Summer’s location, they were a bit too far to the east. She thought about a statistic that she had heard about the first forty-eight hours being the most crucial, and it weighed on her mind. It had already been thirty-six hours, and they were no closer to finding her little girl than they had been the night before.

  Initially, she had thought that being up in the air would be a sour
ce of comfort as it would allow her to cover more ground. After looking at endless miles of wheat fields, rolling hills, and trees, however, she yearned to be back on the ground. She needed to know that progress was being made on some front. “We really haven’t seen much of anything, have we?” she asked Greg out of frustration.

  “No, but our primary job is to narrow down the search area for the ground teams,” he explained.

  “So we’re determining all the places where she isn’t,” she replied with a sigh before going back to scanning the horizon. Each additional mile that passed without a trace or even the slightest clue made her heart ache just a little more. “She was born on the first day of summer, and that’s my favorite season of the year.”

  “So that’s why you named her Summer?” Greg asked, knowing that she was feeling the need to talk about her.

  “Yeah. That way, I figured I could have a little summer all year long.” She forced a smile, trying to choke back her tears. “She has to be okay. She just has to be.”

  He reached over and patted her on the forearm, giving her a reassuring look. He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be fine, but he also knew the statistics. Nearly three-quarters of young victims who are kidnapped by predatory abductors are dead within three hours. People often talk about twenty-four or forty-eight hours, but in these types of cases, the time window is much shorter. The overwhelming odds were that she had been raped and killed a day and a half ago.