Vanished introduces readers to the beginning of the Wilton/Strait Mystery Series, with Presumed Dead, Fear Not, and then Silence adding to the collection. In Vanished, death, fire, and kidnapping send Andrea Wilton and Brian Strait to the country of Haiti where voodoo, restavic children, and scuba diving lead them to discover a diabolical plot that sets nerves on edge.
Vanished tells the story of Brian and Andrea’s search for their friends, Trent and Diane Michner, but before they ever get started, a neighbor is murdered on Andrea’s doorstep and then her house is burned to the ground. Two men in a black Mustang shadow the couple.
Vanished is available at Amazon US, Amazon CA, and at Barbara Ann’s Website.
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Vanished – Prologue
by Barbara Ann Derksen
The intruder shoved her up the stairs. Diane Michner stumbled. She grabbed the stair treads for support. Tears of fright blurred her vision.
“Hurry or I hurt the kid.” His rumbling threat released hot breath across her neck. She scurried faster. An arm, covered in monstrous tattoos that bulged beneath the sleeve of his dirty t-shirt, circled the tiny wiggling torso of her three year old son. Jeffrey whimpered. The thug pushed her again.
“Mommy!” Jeffrey screamed, large droplets of tears coursing down his pudgy cheeks.
“Quiet.” The man gripped the boy’s arm and squeezed. He shot a glance at the woman. She bowed her head in submission and headed toward her little boy’s bedroom.
“H-h-how long will we be g-gone?” Her eyes traveled over the little blue train stenciled on three walls of her son’s dream room.
“Never mind. Get the clothes.” He motioned with the boy’s body, whipping him toward the folded doors of the closet. Jeffrey whimpered.
She yanked the door open and snatched a large suitcase from the top shelf. Her tears dampened pieces of clothing from her son’s chest of drawers as she threw them into the case. With downcast eyes, Diane glanced toward her son and then back to the task at hand. In a haphazard fashion, she added some of the outfits hanging inside the closet door and seized his fluffy brown teddy bear from the bed. Jeffrey whimpered again.
Obediently she turned toward the doorway where the intruder fought to retain hold of her struggling child.
“P-please. Don’t hold him so tight,” she pleaded. “You’ll hurt him.” Her arms ached to hold her frightened son, to protect him from this man who didn’t care if he injured a small child. “It’s okay, Jeffrey. Please don’t cry.”
The man used his elbow to point her toward the next room. “Get a move on.” His grip on the child’s body enticed her to hurry.
The trio moved quickly down the hall towards the bedroom she shared with her husband of five years. She sucked in an anguished breath as she stumbled against the doorframe of the closet. She seized another suitcase and shoved in pants, shirts, and undergarments for both of them.
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