LOST BOY
Author
Ker Dukey
Contents
Lost Boy
Author note
Quote
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
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Ker Dukey’s Books.
Lost Boy
A Psychological Romantic Suspense Title
By
Author Ker Dukey
Copyright © 2020 Ker Dukey
Cover Design: Amy Queau with Q Designs
Photo: Model Franggy
Editor: Word Nerd Editing
Proof: Teresa nicholson
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Author note
If you’re new to my titles, please read with caution.
This title contains dark content.
If you’re an avid Ker Dukey reader, then go forth with your dark heart. You’re already too corrupted to heed caution.
Rosa,
When you’re lost in a world of uncertainty and the darkness is consuming, know that without it, you wouldn’t see the light surrounding you.
And your light burns bright.
You’ve got this!
The world is yours for the taking.
When I’m on the cusp of consciousness, I can hear the cries of the lost.
One
June 8th, 1995
Blue River Prison
Visitor: Mrs. Langford
“Are you sure you can do this?” Detective Hernandez asks, but he knows I don’t have a choice. The only way my husband would give them a confession is if they allowed him to see me one last time before our worlds change forever. It already has.
“I need to do this,” I assure him. We can’t put those families through a trial. The girl… I take a deep breath, forcing down the stone lodged in my throat.
Lights flicker, dimming in and out. Shadows dance along the corridors, stalking me as I take each soul-shattering step toward the man I promised to love for better or for worse. How much worse?
The wind howls, battering against the concrete walls of the prison holding me inside their cold embrace. Do I belong here too? No.
“Storm’s getting worse.” The guard escorting us groans.
Both inside and outside of me. There’s no shelter for the hurricane running rampant within my mind, saturating me in its destruction. The man who promised me a happily ever after destroyed me, us, them…everything.
My chest restricts as an icy hand snakes up my spine. A wave of tiny bumps rise over my flesh. I suck in a breath to try to calm the nerves rapid firing throughout my body. The atmosphere thickens with each thud of my heart, as if the evil in this place haunts the very air I’m breathing.
“Might need to cut the visit short at any point, so be prepared,” the uniformed giant informs Hernandez without turning his gaze to mine. I wouldn’t want to look at me either.
A soft thump protrudes from my stomach, the baby kicking within my womb, reminding me why I’m here. I sigh, resting a palm instinctively over the bump, stroking, protecting, loving, wishing I’d been able to prevent this from happening—wish I would have seen the illness in his blood before I let him into my heart, my bed, my body. Images of his creation ravage my thoughts.
“It will be okay,” I promise my unborn child and myself. A mantra I repeat over and over, reminding myself I will do everything I can to make sure my baby doesn’t end up like him. We don’t belong here. The sickness is inside him. I won’t let him infect us anymore. I’ll run. I’ll flee as far as I need to untether the threads binding us to him.
Thoughts of the girls linger in my mind, my dreams, hounding me.
Could I have done anything to stop it from happening?
Yes. No.
Red blotches litter my flesh as an imaginary itch akin to a million bugs crawling beneath the skin causes me to dig in my nails, scratching at the surface until it almost tears. The sense of not being clean is ever-present. Knowing what that monster did to innocent girls before coming to me, soiled in betrayal, death, evil…
Questions plague me, hammering at my sanity like a child at a locked door.
How did he hide his true nature for so long?
Did they know they were going to die?
Did he think about me when he was with them?
Hernandez slows to a stop beside me as steel barriers to keep the evil inside clank open, startling me.
Can I do this?
I have to.
Frowning in my direction, a prison officer nods impatiently, urging me to continue toward another metal door—another barrier coming down. I’m traded off from one guard to the next.
This new guy’s eyes burn into the side of my face, those chaotic thoughts, erratic and judgmental, a constant torment seeping into my skin, saturating me in shame.
Dust particles dance under the ever-glowing lights, the death parade welcoming me.
Memories of once being happy elude me now. Was I ever really happy? Normal?
Yes. With him.
The nervous energy fizzles, turning my stomach, fearing the worry, the stress, will cause the unborn life inside me harm. But I have to see him one last time. I need to look him in the eye and ask him why.
That question is a constant hum in the back of my mind. I see those girls every time I close my eyes, what he did to them. A shudder ripples through me.
I know nothing he tells me will be acceptable for the hell he inflicted, but it may stop the rampant theories and self-blame. Give me some semblance of closure.
“Detective. Mrs. Langford?” The warden
