Preview of Lost

 

Brief Description:

When a suspected suicide victim calls for DCI John Wickers with her last dying breath, he is hurled into a world wrapped around mystery and heartache. He tries to unravel the truth to her identity and the lonely life she led, not to unsimilar to his own. A tattered photo of an infant child plaques the DCI's mind. Could this person help identify the body? He takes a personal quest to locate and find the lost child and finds some chilling discoveries along the way.

Exclusive to my blog readers, the first two chapters to my new book titled "Lost".

Chapter 1

A slick sheet of rain washed over the dark streets of Saldon. The solid depth of cloud had drawn the night in prematurely. The dull glow of the street lamps guided late night workers back to their adoring families. Apart from the solitary silhouette of one man holding an umbrella, the street on which Maggie Malone lived was completely desolate.
A forceful gale whistled through the naked branches of the trees that stood strongly in front of the terraced houses. Sheltered from the storm outside, Maggie Malone was slumped in her armchair. This was a typical everyday occurrence for the fifty four year old woman, who was unaware that the hazardous weather that resided beyond her front door echoed her own depressive mood. The desperation that gripped her so tightly had taken its toll on her once youthful, attractive appearance. Her personality shredded to pieces from the beast that is alcohol abuse and the dark, dense cloud that permanently hung above her head. Thoughts of ending it all frequently crossed her troubled mind. The extreme pain that she had suffered with for too long had isolated her from the outside world. Severe anxiety overwhelmed her frail demeanour.
In her drab and dated living room, she clutched a worn photo of an infant child with her left hand. It was weathered and almost colourless, with a strong fold down the centre. In the other hand, she was nursing a large glass of deep red wine. She self medicated her intense pain away with alcohol. The sad reality to it was that she knew it only had short term effects. A tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek, her chest grew tight. The tattered image tormented her mentality and suffocated her with deep emotion. Raising the photo closer, she tenderly kissed the picture then let it float to the floor like a feather in the wind. Her fight with guilt had proven unsuccessful. She had felt it was an unevenly matched battle. Her mind was made up, tonight was the night she would be reunited with her son.

Chapter 2

The cold weather was a shock to John Wickers' body. His tanned skin was still exhuming warmth from his trip to Malta. Soft sandy beaches and beautiful women were replaced with dull weather, a dreary grey landscape and unpleasant people. In an instant, he remembered why he had taken the vacation in the first place.
Travelling home from the airport, he dreaded switching his cell phone on. A week away from his job had taken a calming affect. He believed the high levels of stress were causing him to go bald, even though his colleagues completely disagreed. John’s appearance meant a lot to him, he was forever combing his thick head of black hair with a tortoise shell comb he kept in his breast pocket.
The rain was heavy as he sat in the taxi, cradling his cell phone. As the rain sprayed from the tyres into the darkness behind them, the screen lit up and the all familiar beep sounded, indicating already that he had to go into work. Then the cell phone rang, John knew it must have been important.
“DCI Wickers?” the voice was crackly; the signal wasn’t very strong near the airport.
“Yes?” John said exasperatedly.
“DCI Wickers, we have a situation that you must attend,” unexpectedly the constable’s voice sounded excited and nervous.
“Can it not wait? Isn’t there any other DCI’s on tonight? I’ve literally just landed from Malta,” he said firmly.
John’s feathers were ruffled. Although he had just relaxed for a week in Malta, he didn’t expect to be in work until the morning, “What can be so urgent that I have to be there?” he thought.
“DCI Wickers are you still there?” the nervous tone continued.
John’s mind had wandered slightly; he was still exhausted from the four hour flight.
“DCI Wickers? It is important that you attend the crime scene,” the constable’s tone turned forceful now.
“What’s so important?”
“Sir, the victim was still alive when we arrived at the scene. She specifically asked for you.”
The news of this distressed John. A million questions were jolting around his head.
“OK,” he said confused, “Text me the address details through and I will divert the taxi to the scene.”
John stared at his phone wondering who the victim was. He had no family, the idea of marriage and children were a strange concept to him. He lived as a solitary man, the only friend he had had in life had died the previous year.
The text message came through. The address was unfamiliar to him. Still confused by what was going on, he redirected the taxi driver to the new address. As the taxi drew nearer to the crime scene, he freshened himself up and straightened his clothes, trying to prepare himself for what he was about to see.