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
