“No offense, but—” Click. The phone went dead.
Drake was mid-sentence. “Wait! Don’t hang up!” But it was too late.
Through clenched teeth, he mumbled, “Man, if I ever get my hands on him!”
The irritating call focused his mind fully on the investigation again as he rolled into his favorite morning spot. He needed a new clue in the worst way—something, anything—to kickstart the case.
Let today be the day!
By the time the sporty, blue hatchback in front of him pulled away, he was back in the moment. And the doctor’s warning about too much caffeine flashed, reminding him that another cup probably wasn’t a good idea.
“One black and one with cream,” he boldly announced, through Brew Town’s aromatic, drive-through window. It’s not that he didn’t respect the advice, but coffee was one of his guilty pleasures and he would be standing his ground on the matter.
While searching for cash, he heard a flirty musical voice from the other side say, “Morning, Drake.”
“Oh, hey, Carri,” he said, looking up. “Glad you’re back.”
“Can’t stay away from my favorite detective too long,” she teased.
“See, this is why I keep coming here,” Drake said in a rugged, morning voice.
Leaning through the driver’s side window, he dropped an extra big tip in the jar.
The combination of manly character lines and scruffy stubble-beard was clear evidence that Drake was quite a bit older, but the obvious details didn’t seem to dampen her coy playfulness one bit. On the contrary, a beaming smile suggested she didn’t mind at all.
Drake gave her a quick wink and drove off.
Within seconds, his expression began to darken as thoughts of the months-old investigation came rushing back. A case involving the kidnapping and potential murder of a child was always emotionally-crushing, and one he wanted to solve quickly, but that kind of luck had not been in the cards this time.
Annoyingly, others at the precinct had already written it off as a cold case, and every one of their icy references stung a little more each time. But Drake had become a master at feigning indifference and letting negativity fuel his determination.
Another cold case? Not on my watch!
The years had challenged him with tough cases and introduced him to the unsettling darkness in human nature, but it also sharpened his skills. Just having to withstand brutal hours and a steady diet of criminality, along with the vile details, had been more than enough to fine-tune his abilities and instincts. And as a natural consequence of the job, he had become the most formidable version of himself.
Being at the top of his game, with a celebrated track record, was a true testament to his success, but even he had suffered a couple of unsolved cases. It was the fate of every detective—and usually just due to lack of evidence—but it still ticked him off.
He thought about how, just recently, he and some of the gang from the precinct had been shooting the breeze at Murph’s, the local hangout, when that precise topic reared its annoying head.
atmosphere was perfect for captivating conversation. Over the finest stacked subs and cold beer for miles, Drake and the others grumbled about how difficult it was to stomach an offender’s guilt when they lacked evidence to charge.
Just having to endure smug looks on guilty faces as suspects walked free was too much, and all the goading most detectives needed to keep after them. Luckily, if they waited patiently, a subsequent arrest would sometimes provide damning evidence. And years of experience had taught them that they probably wouldn’t have to wait too long.
Many of the offenders had already secured a place for their infamous names in the archives, which overflowed with files from every imaginable transgression and crime. The records also contained the identities of countless innocent people, who would surely never have imagined their names being memorialized in a police file.
Each case was one of a kind, describing a detailed and sometimes unspeakable event. Drake’s own life had been quite remarkable by association but, in his line of work, there was always the possibility that he hadn’t seen anything yet.
Fortunately, he was more prepared than most, with an innovative way of using evidence to create a mental storyboard and then bring it to life.
When time permitted, he put his technique to the test by eagerly pulling cold case files, trying to dig up some lead that had been overlooked. Almost without fail, he hit on something new. Although most leads didn’t go anywhere, the ones that did gave him the greatest satisfaction. Unexpected justice was always especially sweet.
Those successes led to delivering long-awaited positive news to families and victims who had lost all hope. The opportunity to celebrate their coup de grâce was one of the reasons he got up in the morning.
Now, if he could just give the Sweets some good news. Watching another set of grieving parents struggle to hang on in the midst of such a nightmare was almost more than he could bear.
When a child was missing or presumed dead, a case took its toll, and the Sweet case was no exception, stubbornly denying him answers and proper sleep.
He’d been pushing hard, logging extra hours, constantly combing through evidence, and even tolerating a couple of rude, untraceable calls . . . with nothing new to offer. And with each passing day, the chance of finding the six-year-old grew slimmer.
The reality of the stats might be working against him, but he’d made a promise to himself. Even if it took his last breath, he would find Angela.
When Drake came to a stop near the exit of the addictive morning spot, he was enveloped by a crisp current of air that wafted in through the partially open window.
He took a deep breath and focused only on the coolness of the soothing, gentle breeze. Even though there would be a measure of anxiety in the workload ahead, the vibrant, picture-perfect day and a cup of his favorite brew in hand were reason enough to let go of the stress, if only for a moment.
The smell of the fresh, hot coffee drew his attention.
Simply inhaling the aroma made him feel more awake. The magic potion was already stimulating his brain cells and beginning to work its morning magic.
He finally savored the first sip and made a quick right turn onto the familiar street.
To his left, he could see the owner of the quaint breakfast café reversing the ‘closed’ sign and the neighboring florist filling outside baskets with fresh, cut flowers. They waved and started toward each other as he pulled up to the traffic light. The sixty-second wait gave him time to witness even more of the new
day, parading its ebb and flow.
Within minutes, he swung his Jeep into parking space number seventeen, his reserved spot. The time and effort he invested in a long career did have a few perks, and he appreciated that one. When the spot was first issued to him, he was struck by how the number had been sort of lucky and seemed to, strangely, follow him throughout life. It was even prominently displayed on his treasured high school football jersey.
When Drake entered the station, the first thing he looked for was the shabby, generic clock on the wall. He couldn’t resist a passing sneer because it was way too small for the room, and he, like everyone else, had to squint to check the time.
At eleven past seven, the office was still somewhat quiet and orderly, with desks and computers lined up like dominos before the big chain reaction. Not only was the place softly lit, but it also seemed noticeably refreshed, a pleasant indication that the new cleaning crew was doing a better job than the last.
Within the hour, however, things would be different. Every desktop and workstation would be covered in paperwork, files, food, and other random items strewn about. And by mid-morning a familiar productive hum of activity would simply be background music for justice coming down.
Drake spotted his best friend and partner on the case, Detective John Baxter, filling the break room doorway with his prominence. John’s towering height and brawny physique were physical manifestations of his intimidating side, which had effectively put the fear of God into the worst criminal.
He had a warrior’s edginess that could surface when he’d been pushed too far. Without a doubt, offenders who were on the wrong side of the law and terrorizing people did not want their impending rendezvous to be with John.
And Drake Harrison did not want anyone but him
for a partner.
While Drake was both impressed and amused by John’s fierce side, he favored the other, the one where he exuded pure goodness and laughed easily.
“Morning, man,” Drake said.
“Hey, what’s up?” John thundered.
Drake grinned as he strode in John’s direction. “Just the way you like it,” he said, handing over the extra Brew Town coffee.
“Thanks. I was just about to settle for whatever’s in here today,” John said.
“Saved you again,” Drake teased. “You know, I have been feeling like something’s about to break.”
“Hope you’re right,” John said. “Got anything new? Any of those burner calls again?”
“Well, you’re not going to believe it, but I just had one on the way in,” Drake replied. “Same rude signoff. Man, I wish we could trace those. If he hangs up on me like that again, I swear I want an airhorn ready.”
“What is it he says again?” John asked. “No offense?”
“Yeah, ‘no offense, but—’ and then click! He hangs up on me. Every time!”
John shook his head. “Jerk.”
“Yeah,” Drake said. “He’s just another one that likes to interfere, probably thinks he’s smarter than we are.”
“Yeah,” John agreed. “But he is paying attention to the case.”
“I know, I’m on it,” Drake said. “To be safe, we’ll keep things on the down-low, out of the press as much as possible. That whole thing is
a double-edged sword. We need the media, yet it invites the crazies. Other than that, I feel like we’ve gone over everything ad nauseam.”
“Yeah, me too,” John said, pulling up a chair. “But we do have a couple of call-in leads on the Sweet case. I put them on your desk with that other evidence.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Drake balanced on the edge of the closest table. “Man, you know this case as well as I do. What are we missing?”
“We need a sighting or a vehicle in the worst way,” offered John. “Either would give us a jump start.”
Drake nodded. “Yeah. All Trace was left with was a few unidentifiable fibers. You know what we could really use is a little of that Baxter magic, like when you took down the mayor’s son-in-law.”
John’s face lit up, but he shrugged off the compliment. “Hey, I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet, but I talked to that sketchy guy again. The one who worked for Chad Sweet. Looks like he’s clean for this one, but I’m telling you, Man, that guy’s done something. He just rubs me the wrong way!”
Drake’s impish grin surfaced and made them both start laughing.
The senior office assistant, Mary, zipped past the doorway just in time to witness their moment of levity. “Morning, guys,” she said. “I sure hope my day starts off as well as yours.”
“Morning, Mary,” came the reply.
John watched her for seconds longer than Drake before springing to his feet. “Hey, can we finish this on my way out?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure,” Drake said. “Just one last thing, though. Did you get a chance to look over that Milton County case?”
“Oh, yeah, it doesn’t completely line up to me. The victim is about the same age, and the perp was bold but not out of touch like our guy;
it’s a different psychology. But you should probably still take a look.”
“Yeah, I will. We just need that break,” Drake said. “That, and more hours in the day.”
He grabbed a couple of letters from his inbox as they made their way through the maze of the headquarters.
“I have some free time this afternoon if you need me,” offered John. “You know, I want to take this guy down as much as you do. I have a feeling he’s a real piece of work.”
“Aren’t they all?” Drake smirked.
“Good point,” John said, stepping through the exit. “Hey, are her parents doing any better?”
“No, not really,” Drake said. “Fighting to hang on.”
John shook his head. “Hate that part of the job.”
“I know, it sucks,” Drake agreed. “I’m going to swing by and check on them again soon.”
“That’s good, man,” John said. “Give them my best and just let me know about this afternoon.”
“I will,” Drake replied. “Where you headed?”
“I’m going to check on a few things I asked the lab to reprocess.”
“Anything I need to know about?” Drake asked.
“Only if we get lucky,” mused John. “Oh, there’s a message from Dr. Brill, but I haven’t had a chance to get back to her yet.”
“Okay, don’t worry about it,” Drake said. “I was going to call her anyway.”
“Good,” John said, hitting the button on the elevator. “On a lighter note, you have a date for this weekend, don’t you?”
John struck a power pose and jokingly said, “I don’t want to brag, but I have a date with my sister’s cat this weekend.”
“Let me see . . . D’Artagnan or Mary?” Drake teased, weighing the names with alternating palms. “Are you ever going to ask her out?”
“Told you, I’m looking for the right time,” John whispered.
“Yeah, we both need to step up our games,” Drake said.
When the elevator opened, John lunged inside and held the door. “I know it’s past time, but we’ll get to it right after this case.”
“Right,” Drake said. “Where have I heard that before? Whatever, see you later.”
“Yeah, see you,” John said, disappearing behind the doors.
After unlocking his office, Drake stepped inside and immediately made his way to the red leather desk chair. It was a special gift from an ex-girlfriend, Sherry Griffin, who had given it to him when he first moved into the new space.
Ever since then, the executive classic had become his favorite, and whenever a little recovery time was needed, it never failed to deliver. As he patted the beautiful leather and sank in, he thought how it was actually looking better with age.
And the same’s probably true for Sherry.
She was a spontaneous, sassy brunette who could always entertain him with her unexpected topics of conversation and lofty travel plans. Sherry Griffin, with her smoky eyes and passion for life, was the first to get him thinking about the altar.
But there was never a wedding.
The torturous thoughts came again. Was it my fault? Was she right?
But just as his mind stumbled upon the awkward reason for the breakup, he shook his head and quickly dismissed the memories. The parting was really no one’s fault, and there wasn’t any point in revisiting the issue.
There had always been something holding him back anyway. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on it, but it didn’t matter. She’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested in competing for his time, and that was something he couldn’t change. His work was a calling.
He did his best to justify the priority of the job, but she didn’t want to hear it. Turns out she’d been down that road before, with a cop named Eddie Driscoll.
The two of them had dealt with a similar issue.
And apparently, Eddie had even moved closer, in a final attempt to improve the dynamic, but despite the extra effort, the relationship never landed on solid ground.
The move, however, did land Eddie in the same precinct as Drake. The awkward situation could have been a problem, but because they were adults about it, it never was. The guys weren’t the best of friends, but they had the demands of the job in common and conducted themselves as professionals.
With victims depending on them, they had no choice but to devote additional hours to their careers rather than their personal lives. It was just part of the process.
Drake solved many cases in those extra hours, especially during the critical ones spent behind his office door.
The closed door might have seemed a dichotomy to some since he was usually so open and approachable otherwise. But when he was working on a case, it was different. His unique crime-solving technique required as much structure and quiet as possible. And that could be a tall order in a busy station.
almost meditative environment, coercing his subconscious into a more creative and discerning mindset.
And that’s when the magic happened.
Drake was shaken from his thoughts by sounds permeating the traditional paneled walls, alerting him as the interior of the office slowly came to life. The familiar rhythms resonating throughout the day were like a quirky melody. With one person after another arriving and adding their own unique sound, it was like one instrument after another joining in to create a full musical piece, eventually reaching a crescendo. And then, finally, the big finish, as they all rushed to leave at the end of the day.
After switching his focus back to the case, Drake was ready to apply the winning visualization technique he had mastered. There would—like always—be missing pieces. But when he encountered absent or sketchy details, to keep continuity, he simply filled in with inspired theory. And by now, his mental movie was getting shockingly close to what really happened.
Drake closed his eyes and let the story born of statements, facts, and imagination fill his mind. As his breathing began to slow and all awareness of his surroundings dissipated, he surrendered to the dreamlike state, and the images began to organize themselves.
It was late, and he could feel the vulnerability of the darkness.
The family had just returned home from the annual community music festival, and in the shadows of the garage, Jacki Sweet rifled through her bag for the right key.
After a brief struggle with the door, they were all safely inside and headed in different directions. Jacki was on her way to remove her makeup and jump into her favorite sweats while Chad made his way to the kitchen. Their six-year-old, Angela, skipped her way to her fairytale bedroom, where she would put on the pajamas she had chosen earlier in the day.
The plan was to meet back in the family room and watch a little TV. Bedtime was going to be later than normal, but it was a special occasion.
Chad was the last to enter, and Angela squealed with delight when she saw him. The king of her world was acting out a royal presentation with an enormous bowl of popcorn. He lightheartedly teased the girls, saying how delicious it was going to be because he, the master chef, had added a new secret ingredient: white cheddar seasoning.
Without awareness, Drake smiled as he pictured the playful family moment.
But the charming scene would last for only minutes before a masked gunman stepped into the family’s world. With weapon drawn, he threatened their lives if anyone made a sound, leaving them no choice but to follow instructions.
The parents had prayed he just wanted to rob them and leave, but the intruder had other plans.
Dressed all in black, down to leather gloves and mask, he forced the family into chairs from a nearby game table.
After dipping his shoulder and allowing his backpack to fall heavily to the floor, he reached inside and quickly retrieved some rope and three separate rolls of duct tape. Using the rope to restrain them by size, he bound Chad first, Jacki second, and finally Angela.
Drake’s heart was beating faster. He could picture the little girl’s face, feel her terror.
For the following step, the invader reversed the order. After cutting a piece of duct tape from each of the three rolls, he stepped close
and gagged Angela.
Most likely to scream.
Drake then pictured the parents, silenced and struggling, and could feel their agony.
Donning a roll of duct tape on his wrist, the invader eerily made his way around to the back of the chairs, where he used the remainder to reinforce the bindings.
Statements from the parents explained how he had returned the empty spools to the backpack.
Covering his tracks.
With the family now completely helpless, the gunman began to chastise them for ruining his life. He paced the floor, spewing some diatribe about planning out his whole life and being determined to finally have what he wanted.
Chad was working furiously with the ropes as the sick verbal attack continued, but the more he struggled, the stronger they got.
A clue? Could he be an expert?
While aiming the gun right at Chad, the offender gave another warning not to make a sound and began to untie Angela. But just enough to release her from the chair.
The Sweets were forced to watch helplessly as he continued to terrorize their little girl.
Tears that had been off and on were now pouring down Jacki’s face, and Angela’s eyes flashed with a fear no child should ever know. Her voice was muted by the duct tape, but Drake could almost hear her screaming. His breath hitched.
The scene was so real that he actually felt for his gun.
If only I could have been there.
When Angela was barely freed, the invader picked her up and callously paraded her around. Chad lurched forward, viciously wrestling
with the chair again. There was no warning, when only seconds later, the intruder’s gun smashed into his forehead.
The gunman turned and taunted Jacki. “Take a final look.”
She fought her own restraints as she watched her sweet girl squirm and kick so fiercely that he almost dropped her before dragging her from the room.
When he returned, Angela was restrained by an unyielding grip, but her whole body shook as she clung tightly to an overstuffed pink backpack.
It surely contained her personal belongings and meant he was really taking her.
With the six-year-old still unable to make a sound and squirming on his hip, the kidnapper walked boldly out of sight.
Sweat began to form on Drake’s forehead. He couldn’t be sure of what happened next, but his imaginings were close.
As the perpetrator exited, he wrestled with Angela, who was putting up a savage fight, twisting and kicking.
From a nearly undetectable corner of the garage, with a free hand, he picked up what looked like a coffee can. After popping the lid and reaching inside, he located the chloroform and gauze that had been stashed there earlier.
He shifted Angela’s weight for the last time and made direct eye contact with her, saying with eerie kindness, “I know you’re scared, but everything’s fine, and you’re going to be okay. But right now, it’s past your bedtime, and you need a little nap for the trip.”
With that, he placed the saturated gauze over her nose and mouth. When she passed out, his knees buckled slightly from the instant weight shift, but the struggle was over. He knelt down, transferred her to his lap, and opened his backpack. Like every other used item, the can was tossed inside.
in the garage and placing Angela inside, he re-entered the home.
Chad was still out, but Jacki was frantically struggling to get free. Her muffled screams were of no help. He came toward her with something in his hand. He held it over her face, and that’s all she remembered.
Hardly acknowledging either of them, the kidnapper had chloroformed Jacki and Chad for good measure.
Drake imagined him exiting the house for the second time. It had to be a critical moment. Leaving by way of a noisy garage door was not ideal, and evidence suggested he had chosen a secondary entry point.
With Angela resting over his shoulder, and before taking the first step, he must have cautiously scanned the neighborhood for any activity. The next challenge would have been to make it undetected from the house to his vehicle.
Drake pictured him stepping daringly into the night.
Dressed in black, and barely visible, he probably looked like any parent, simply carrying a sleeping child. Surely, he would have moved quickly to the vehicle and put Angela in first. In the back seat? In a makeshift bed? Either way, the evil deed was done, and he disappeared into the night.
The reenactment was over.
Hours had gone by before the Sweets were freed, and they were able to report the abduction to the police.
Drake knew what happened from that point on . . . because he was there.
After arriving with his team, he comforted the frantic parents and took specific note of the disturbing scene. Thankfully, even in their panicky state, the Sweets had known enough from an evidence perspective to leave everything the way it was.
Other investigators gloved up, dusted for prints, took photos, and bagged and recorded every piece of evidence in the house while Drake monitored emergency child alerts and calmed the parents before piecing together their statements.
Jacki was already talking when he pulled a chair up next to the sofa.
“We just kept telling her to be brave and do what he said,” she sobbed, rocking back and forth. “We didn’t have a choice; he had a gun. And he was talking crazy.”
“Can you remember what else he said?” John asked.
“Something about not letting a family who has everything destroy his plan,” she cried. “It was weird . . . he just went on and on.”
“Yeah, he said something about following rules,” Chad offered.
“When you don’t follow rules, you suffer consequences,” Jacki added. “And what else was it?”
“Uh . . . oh, yeah,” Chad said. “You’re going to pay for your interference. You took my entire life, so I’m taking yours.”
“I’m so sorry,” Drake comforted. “Was there anything familiar about him at all?”
Chad shook his head. “No, we only heard his voice. His face was covered.”
“So, you had just come home from the music festival, right?” Drake probed.
“Yeah, hadn’t been home very long,” Chad explained. “Do you think someone could have followed us?”
“Anything’s possible, especially with a crowd like that,” Drake said. “But from what you’ve said, I think it’s more likely that he was already here.”
Jacki was nervously wringing her hands.
stand it. Oh, God . . . my baby! The look on her sweet face ripped my heart out. I tried to show her how much I love her, that everything would be okay, but I’m so afraid she only saw the panic.”
Details were coming in random bursts, but Drake could organize them in his mind.
“I know how hard it is to try to concentrate,” he empathized. “Focusing on anything other than Angela right now is unnatural.”
“All I really want to do is lose my mind in private,” Jacki cried.
Drake respected that, but if he was going to find Angela, he needed a play-by-play.
“I do understand,” he said. “I really do. But to give ourselves the best chance of finding her,
we need to collect important information as soon as possible.”
That did it.
Despite what appeared to be crippling agony, the Sweets gave a full accounting of—what would later become—their official statement. And once that was complete, they even managed another small assistance by gathering a recent photo and a few other items from Angela’s room.
“So, neither of you noticed a strange vehicle or anything like that?” Drake asked.
Chad shook his head. ...
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Copyright © 2026 All Rights Reserved
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
