Lost Summer: A Gripping Romantic Suspense

by M T Stone

  Lost Summer

  A Gripping Romantic Suspense

  M.T. Stone

  Steamy Nights Publishing

  Contents

  Copyright

  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

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by M.T. Stone. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher.

  www.SteamyNightsPublishing.com

  First Edition – December 26, 2016

  The Author recognizes all trademarks of any companies, products and services mentioned in this work of fiction.

  Chapter 1

  As Summer Bennett slowly began to regain consciousness, she was greeted by the stench of musty old carpet. Its coarse fibers pressed mercilessly against her cheek. Something had gone terribly wrong, but her foggy mind struggled to recall anything that had occurred in the preceding hours. An attempt to open her eyelids was met with immediate failure, leaving her stuck in a world of darkness. Panic welled up within her as the gravity of her situation suddenly became obvious. In addition to being blindfolded, her mouth had been securely taped and her hands were bound behind her. Wiggling back and forth, she quickly realized that her feet had been anchored in place as well. Desperate for clues, she rubbed her face against the filthy carpet, trying to rid herself of the blindfold that covered her eyes. It wouldn’t budge, causing an additional spike in her anxiety level. She was stuck, alone in the dark, with nothing but a heartbeat that was racing out of control.

  After several excruciatingly long minutes, she sensed the vehicle slowing down. The hum of the tires continued to lessen until she felt the vehicle turn to the right. Soon after making the turn, the smell of gravel dust filled the air, along with the sound of rocks hitting the underside of the vehicle. She pictured herself bound and gagged in the back of an old creeper van, headed down a dark, desolate gravel road. Her imagination was spot on.

  A million thoughts raced through her mind as the foreign sounds and smells continued to torment her. Utter despair began to creep its way through her body and she began hyperventilating against the duct tape that held her mouth so tightly closed. Hot, steamy tears saturated the blindfold, which remained stubbornly fixed in place. Who had taken her? Where were they going? And why?

  Leo Sullivan focused intently on the road ahead, the dim headlights of his van providing just enough light to make his way through the darkness of the rural night. Navigating the winding trail toward the gulch that concealed his home was challenging even in the daylight, so he never ventured out at night. This time, however, the cover of darkness had been a necessity so he had made a rare exception. The van rocked wildly back and forth as he traveled the final half-mile on a path that had never been converted to an actual road. It was a simple trail that deer and other wildlife used to visit one of the most reliable watering holes in the county. The abundance of water, wild game and fish in the area had been the primary reason his father had chosen to homestead this particular spot.

  Tree branches scraped against the faded white paint as he pulled the van into a thicket located right at the edge of a small lake. Leo carefully camouflaged the vehicle just the way his father had taught him to ensure that no passerby ever detected its presence from the road. Going around to the back of the van, he opened the doors to retrieve the groceries and other supplies that he had bought while in the city. Initially, he ignored the hysterical noises emanating from his reluctant passenger. He grabbed the grocery bags that rested alongside her and carried them to an old rowboat. The boat would provide passage for the final leg of their journey.

  Summer let out a terrified, muffled scream as he latched onto her ankles and pulled her across the floor toward him. The smell of stale carpet immediately gave way to an even fouler smell of body odor as he hoisted her into the air and slung her over his shoulder. Blood rushed to her head as he began walking. The sound of snapping twigs beneath his feet confirmed that they were well off the beaten path. Was he going to kill her and dump her body out here? Good God . . . was this filthy man going to rape her? Tears once again burst from her eyes, which remained concealed by the unwavering blindfold. She struggled to catch her breath and tried to plead for him to remove the gag, but her lips remained stubbornly pressed against one another.

  “Shh! We’re almost home,” he grunted, struggling under her weight as he made his way down the uneven bank of the gulch.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly while setting her down on the floor of the boat and placing a square seat cushion behind her lower back. His breath was equally as foul as his body odor, instantly turning her already upset stomach.

  Her feet remained bound together and were now propped up in front of her. She struggled to reposition herself, but she wasn’t able to move more than few inches in either direction. She heard splashing, and the boat moved slightly. It suddenly shifted to one side as he crawled onboard, taking a seat next to her feet. Next came a series of hollow groaning and splashing sounds as the boat moved away from the shore. She was in a rowboat, and the sound of the oars was something she hadn’t heard in years, not since she’d played in her grandfather’s boat as a young child. He continued to row in deafening silence, with the exception of an occasional grunt.

  He had snatched her from her parents’ home, driven her out into the wilderness, and now he claimed that he wasn’t going to hurt her? It made no sense. There was obviously an evil intention behind his actions. She cringed at the thought of what it might be.

  Dylan Chase struggled against the rigid metal chair, trying to find a comfortable position. Nothing about the chair or the entire room, for that matter, was designed to be comfortable—just the opposite. There were three stark white walls and a fourth, which consisted of a one-way mirror to conceal the lurkers who watched the proceedings from the other side. A rectangular metal table with a white Formica top was all that separated him from two highly abrasive officers whose common goal was to secure his confession. A bead of sweat trickled down the left side of his forehead, a result of spending over ninety minutes under the oppressive heat of a half-dozen halogen floodlights beating down on him. Everything about the interrogation room had been designed to irritate, to intimidate, and to break the weak. Dylan, however, was anything but weak.

  He had been forced to grow up suddenly at age eleven, when his father was killed in Iraq. He had been the man of the house for nearly a decade, helping his mother keep things together and raise his two younger sisters. His father had been
a member of Army National Guard, signing up as a weekend warrior in exchange for free college tuition. At the time, he never imagined that he would actually see active duty, much less be deployed to a godforsaken one hundred and fifteen-degree desert. He was stationed far from the frontlines and wasn’t even carrying a weapon on that fateful day, but the IED that killed him didn’t care who he was or his intent. It only sensed the weight of his body as his foot depressed the trigger. Dylan’s father was the first member of his guard unit to be killed in a military conflict in over forty years.

  The memories of all the flags and the crowds of people who turned out for his father’s funeral were permanently etched upon his brain. He was incredibly proud to be his son. After that day, however, he was forced to bear responsibilities not normally handled well by men twice his age. At age fifteen, JE SUIS PRET was the first tattoo Dylan had done on his right shoulder in memory of his father. It was the motto of the infantry division his father had been a part of, and it meant, I Am Ready. Only a sophomore in high school at the time, Dylan felt as though he was ready to take on the world. At the time, he was oblivious to the cold, cruel realities of the world that awaited him.

  “Can you explain the blood and other stains on the passenger seat of your car?” Sergeant Reed continued his inquiry with a steely look in his eyes. “If those are a positive match to her DNA, I would say you are pretty much fucked, boy.”

  “I didn’t hurt her. She’s the only girl I’ve ever loved,” Dylan countered defiantly. “What would be my motive?”

  “You had sex with an under-aged girl,” Detective Thomas chimed in with his gravely baritone voice. “Maybe it wasn’t consensual.” He lowered his head just slightly to join the other officer’s death stare.

  “She turns eighteen a week from Friday. I’m only a year older than her.” Dylan rolled his deep brown eyes and shook his head from side to side. “It’s not like I was robbing the cradle or anything.”

  “Well, if those tests are conclusive, you will be charged nonetheless,” Sergeant Reed added, slapping his hand on the table. “We’ll hold you on a statutory rape charge and hopefully obtain enough evidence to charge you with additional crimes.”

  “Her dad is behind all of this, isn’t he?” Dylan asked, looking with piercing eyes toward the reflective glass. “I didn’t hurt Summer. We love each other, and you can’t stand it!” he yelled at his own reflection, seething in frustration.

  “You settle your ass down, boy,” Detective Thomas yelled back at him. “You’re the one who is in the hot seat here.”

  “I know, but I didn’t do anything to her. I would never hurt her!” Dylan shifted nervously in his chair. Everyone around him seemed intent on holding him personally responsible for Summer’s disappearance regardless of whether he was actually guilty.

  Summer’s father, Ryan Bennett, was a local businessman whose family had struck oil on their vast land holdings. He had made it clear that he didn’t like Dylan from the moment he laid eyes on him. His dark hair, which he had often let grow too long, the tattoos on his arm, which had transformed into a sleeve, and the way he swaggered into the house, flashing that condescending smirk of his all grated on Ryan’s nerves. In his mind, Dylan was a loser who had no business chasing after his daughter. Now that same daughter had gone missing, and Dylan was the prime suspect, the only suspect. He was determined to see that the spotlight remained on him until overwhelming evidence to the contrary came to the surface. In that unlikely scenario, he still intended to pursue the statutory rape charges.

  Dylan had been the last person to see her and had admitted to being at their house until eleven-thirty that night. A nosy neighbor had watched him back out of the driveway, providing a strong third-party confirmation of the timeline. Thirty-five minutes later, her parents had arrived home to an empty house. Angrily, Ryan had called her cellphone. His anger quickly transformed to angst, however, when he tracked down her ringing phone inside her purse, which was lying beneath her jacket in the bedroom next-door.

  Ryan’s next call had been to the police chief, Chuck Sanders, a friend whom he knew would go the extra mile to locate his daughter. He gave him Dylan’s name, address, and cellphone number. He was in custody within thirty minutes of the call being placed. Detective Thomas had been rousted from bed to do a quick vehicle inspection, which led to the discovery of bodily fluids on the passenger seat. Those little stains would likely ensure that Dylan spent at least a night or two behind bars.

  “I’m not saying another word until I’ve had a chance to speak with an attorney,” Dylan told them, leaning back in the chair and shoving his fingers through his hair. Despite his cool and collected appearance, he was shitting his pants on the inside.

  “Well, you’ll have to make bail, and the judge is out until Monday morning. So . . . you might as well settle in,” Sergeant Reed replied snidely, slapping his hand on the table for emphasis before rising to his feet.

  Chapter 2

  A stunned Olivia Bennett sat at the dining room table, numbly sipping her latte. Her normally gorgeous hazel-green eyes were bloodshot, and they stung from crying and lack of sleep. She had gone to bed about three am, but had given up on sleep within the hour. There was no way she could rest with her only child missing. The depths of her despair were something unimaginable unless one had faced a similar situation. She had always regretted the fact that she wasn’t able to have more kids, and now her worst nightmare was being realized. Where was she?

  It was obvious that she had been taken against her will. She never left the house without her Louis Vuitton purse, much less her phone. She thought back to how badly Summer had wanted that seven-hundred-dollar purse and how ridiculous she thought it had been at the time. Her own mother had thought it was insane when Olivia paid fifty dollars for designer jeans at that age. Ryan’s monthly oil royalty checks had allowed him to spoil his daughter as well as the two of them. But recently, their life had been suddenly jolted off course by plunging oil prices. As if that hadn’t been enough to deal with, now their beloved daughter had disappeared.

  “I know that Chase kid had something to do with this,” Ryan scoffed as he entered the house, slamming the door behind him. “He sat there so smug, demanding an attorney. Fucking cocky bastard.”

  “I don’t know if it’s cockiness,” Olivia replied softly. “He had a very hard childhood, so it’s not unusual for kids like that to have a pretty big chip on their shoulders.”

  “Well, I don’t like it,” Ryan snapped back before heading into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He knew that his wife was probably correct. She had been his counselor after his father was killed, so she still had a soft spot for him. Ryan had always admired how great she was with troubled kids, but she had a habit of becoming overly attached, which is why she gave it up when oil prices went through the roof. Her overly empathetic personality wasn’t going to serve her well in their current predicament either. He knew she was going to be an absolute basket case until they found Summer.

  “She’s okay,” he told her softly, setting his coffee cup on the table and wrapping his arms around her from behind. He nuzzled against a stray lock of her long blonde hair that hung in front of her ear. “The chief has both Sergeant Reed and Detective Thomas working overtime until this is solved. They will be talking to everyone in the neighborhood today to see if anyone saw anything. Two other officers are pulling all the surveillance videos from local gas stations and intersections. Thank God they installed traffic cameras at almost every major intersection. It’s just a matter of time.” Security had grown much tighter in town ever since the oil boom brought so many roughnecks to the area. He squeezed his wife tightly, hoping for a miracle. His phone began to ring, so he pulled it from his pocket. It was the chief. A shiver ran down his spine as he clicked to answer.

  “Any good news?” he asked the chief, hoping for some ray of hope.

  “Not really, but both Dylan’s mom and a neighbor kid confirmed that Dylan arrived home about a quarter to tw
elve. So he pretty much went straight there after leaving your place. I’ve got a second team on their way to your house to do a more thorough inspection of her room, as well as the outside perimeter. We’ll bring the canine unit to see if he can pick up a scent,” the chief said, trying to sound positive. “I’m giving this everything we’ve got, Ryan.”

  “I know. I appreciate it, Chuck.” He hung up the phone and took a seat at the table, grabbing his coffee cup. A lump formed in his throat as a steady stream of tears continued to roll down Olivia’s cheeks. “We’ll find her,” he tried to reassure her.

  They were both startled when Summer’s phone rang. Olivia grabbed it and saw that it was Jana, Summer’s best friend.

  “Is it true?” Jana asked, her voice cracking with emotion.

  “Yes, unfortunately, it’s true,” Olivia sighed into the phone. “Did you see her last night?”

  “No. She was going out with Dylan, so I went home after we got back from rollerblading.”

  “What time was that?”

  “About six or a little after.”

  Ryan held out his hand, wanting to talk to Jana. “Here, her dad wants to talk to you,” she told her before handing the phone over to him.

  “Jana, did you two talk to any strangers or see anyone weird in the neighborhood yesterday?” he asked, getting right to the heart of the matter.

  “Not really,” Jana replied hesitantly.

  “Think, Jana. This is really important. Summer could be in a lot of danger,” he added, hoping to reinforce the gravity of the situation.

  “The only thing I can think of is how Summer always talks to the homeless guys.”

  “She talks to homeless guys?” he gasped, glaring at his wife, wondering if she knew what Jana was talking about.