Stolen Lives: A Detective Mystery Series SuperBoxset

Table of Contents

Stolen Lives Super Boxset

The Abducted: A Race Against Time

Discovery

Crime Scene

A New Friend

Interrogation

Released

Deadly Exchange

Teamwork

Remembrance

Showdown

The Abducted: Vengeance

Escape

Breathe

Painful Reunion

Six Months Later

The Informant

Search for Sarah

Duplex

Captured

Holding Cell

Purgatory

Last Stand

Death Notes: The Beginning

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Death Notes Bloodied Words

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Death Notes: Obituary

Chapter 1 – Baltimore 30 years ago

Chapter 2 – Baltimore – Present Day

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Stolen Lives Super Boxset

Copyright 2016 All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means without prior written permission, except for brief excerpts in reviews or analysis.

The Abducted: A Race Against Time

Sarasota, Florida

Phillip Anderson was a wanted man. Lee County Police Department released an APB, and a state-wide manhunt was just around the corner. What authorities didn’t know, however, was that he had one destination in mind. And once he got there and did what needed to be done, it would be too late.

He had long since fled Anderson Auto Salvage in a getaway van—and had effectively evaded authorities. They had little knowledge of his frequent disguises and his overall resourcefulness and intelligence. Phillip knew that if he was going to remain free, he would need to utilize his talents like never before.

He often wore wigs, makeup, and even dresses to fool his victims and earn their trust. It had worked every time. At six feet and two hundred and thirty pounds, he wasn’t the most convincing woman. But in the interest of his disguise, he often kept a clean shave. The concept of being someone else was something that had always intrigued him.

After going through an Arby’s drive-through, Philip parked and applied his makeup in the rear-view mirror. He then put on a frumpy brunette wig and adjusted it accordingly. His red lipstick glistened and his light-blue eye shadow matched well with his rosy cheeks. He scarfed down his sandwich and then changed into a sleeveless light-blue dress that went down to his ankles. He put a pair of sunglasses on and smiled at himself in the mirror.
Phyllis
was ready.

It was early Thursday morning when he pulled onto Miriam Castillo’s street, parking a few houses down. He knew that she wasn’t going to be home. In fact, he was counting on it. Miriam had joined the hunt for him with the other authorities. She had ruined everything and would hefty pay a price.

Phillip was, however, expecting to see Miriam’s daughter, Ana, and her ex-husband, Freddy. It was a risky mission, but he needed to act before Ana went to school. A few buses had already passed him by. He grabbed his purse, stepped out of the van, and headed toward Miriam’s quaint home at the end of the cul-de-sac. His loafers brushed against the pavement as he walked across the road and onto the sidewalk, whistling along the way.

***

Freddy was in the living room, glued to the television. The morning news detailed the raid at the Anderson Auto Salvage Yard, and the subsequent hunt for their number-one suspect, Phillip Anderson. The other Anderson boys—Greg, Walter, and Jake—had been taken into custody, along with their sixty-something parents, Boone and Judith.

Freddy was uneasy when he heard Miriam’s name on television, and then he saw a quick image of her from when she was on the police force.

He leaned closer to the TV, mouth agape, and tried again to call her cell. It rang and rang until she finally answered, apologizing. She was on her way home. One of the detectives at the station was driving her. They’d be there in an hour by her estimate.

“They’re talking about you on television,” Freddy said excitedly, standing up and adjusting the belt on his bathrobe.

Ana had just woken up and walked across the hall, straight to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Freddy continued. “Ana is going to get a kick out of this for sure!”

“Don’t tell her too much,”
Miriam said.
“There are things about this case she doesn’t need to know.”

Freddy paced the living room, a smile across his face. “So, you’re famous now? Congratulations!”

Miriam laughed. “Hardly. But thank you.”

Freddy turned and looked at the bathroom door down the hall as the toilet flushed. “I have to make breakfast for Ana. Better hurry up if you want some.”

Miriam paused.
“Will do.”

“Drive safely, and we’ll see you soon.”

“I will. Thanks.”
She paused again.
“I really appreciate your help. It means a lot to me.”

“My pleasure,” Freddy said, turning back to the television screen. The news anchor was still discussing the story. Before hanging up, he told Miriam, “Maybe we could, uh, talk about things later?”

Miriam sighed.
“I don’t know, Freddy. I just think things are fine between us now, and let’s keep them that way.”

Freddy walked toward the kitchen, lowering his voice. “Look. We need to talk.
I
need this, and I think I’ve earned it, coming here on short notice to watch Ana while you play detective.”

“All right, Freddy. Drop it,”
she said with increased agitation in her voice.
“We’ll talk later. Okay?”

Freddy smiled, victorious. “I’ll have a plate of eggs ready for you when you get here.”

Miriam said good-bye and hung up. Freddy walked back to the living room and stood in front of the TV, cell phone in hand. The news flashed a mug shot image of Phillip Anderson. His gray hair, standing on end, and his bushy beard and sunken eyes made him look like a madman. The photo, they said, was from a DUI arrest from two years ago. Anderson had a record, and the news anchor reminded viewers that he was believed to be a dangerous and violent man.

They mentioned Miriam again and showed her official police photo, even though she had quit the force a year ago. An energetic commentator dubbed her a “testament to vigilance.” Freddy smiled and walked to the bathroom down the hall, rapping on the door and calling.

“Ana, hurry. Your mom’s on TV!”

The shower turned on. Freddy got the message and walked away, setting his cell phone on a nearby coffee table. Suddenly a knock came at the front door. Surprised, he approached the door, peeking out through the living room curtains where he saw the back side of a large woman in a Sunday dress at the door. What she wanted, he had no idea. It was pretty early for callers.

He neared the front door and looked through the peephole. The woman stood with a purse strap on her shoulder and her hands folded at her front. She wore dark sunglasses and had on too much makeup. Her frumpy brunette hair covered her shoulders on both sides like a fur scarf. Outside of these few oddities, she looked harmless. Freddy ran his hands through his short, thick hair and opened up the door halfway as the outside light beamed into the foyer.

“Hi, can I help you?” he asked, squinting.

The woman smiled. “Hi there! My name is Phyllis,” she said in a perky, but deep southern accent. She extended her thick, meaty hand and Freddy shook it, introducing himself.

“Is Miriam here?” she asked, looking over his shoulder.

Freddy glanced behind him. “No, she’s not.”

“Shucks. Well, I live a couple houses down and I was hoping to catch her. I heard about her on the radio and saw that her car was still here.” She folded her hands and raised them to her face. “It’s so exciting!”

Freddy nodded. “Sure is. She’s still on the road. You can probably catch her later today.”

The woman eyed him intently. “You’re
Freddy
, correct? Ana’s father?”

“That’s me.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” she said with a subtle bow.

Freddy nodded back again, searching for an out. Phyllis pressed on with enthusiasm and a smile. “But what I really wish I could get from you is a cup of sugar.”

His face bunched up in confusion. “Sugar?”

“That’s right,
Sugar,”
she said with a laugh as Freddy stood awkwardly holding the door.

“Miriam and I exchange stuff all the time. My husband needs
a lot
of sugar in his coffee if he’s going to get up in the morning. ‘Fraid I’m all out.”

Freddy glanced behind him again, toward the kitchen, then turned back to her. “I really don’t know where she keeps anything. I’m just here babysitting, frankly.”

Phyllis tried to peek past him. “She keeps a big bag in the cupboard next to the fridge.”

Freddy turned again and scratched his head, wishing she’d go away and tell her damn husband, Too bad, no sugar.

“It will only take a minute, I promise. Thanks so much!” she said with another big smile.

“Okay,” Freddy said reluctantly. He opened the door and stepped aside. “Come on in.”

Phyllis thanked him and went in. They walked past the living room, where the television flashed more images of Phillip Anderson’s mug shot from at least five years ago, with the title: “Snatcher on the Loose!”

“I can’t believe that,” Phyllis said as they entered the kitchen. She took her purse and set it on the table. “Just terrible.”

Freddy turned slightly and then went to the cupboard, opening the one nearest the refrigerator. “Yeah, it’s really something.” His back remained to Phyllis as he searched the shelves, coming up short. He opened the next cabinet—nothing but dishes. He moved to the next and found shelves full of spices and condiments.

With his back still turned, Freddy moved some cans aside in the cabinet. Phillip reached into his purse and grabbed a pair of black gloves. After putting them on, she pulled out a long hunting knife.

“I hope they find that awful man,” he said, maintaining his womanly tone. “He looks like a monster.”

Phillip’s eyes remained fixated on Freddy as he continued searching the cabinet.

“Found it!” Freddy said, reaching for a half-full bag of sugar in the back.