Have You Seen Sarah Baker?

Have You Seen Sarah Baker? T.A. Cruz Content warning: This story contains scenes depicting alcoholism, miscarriage, domestic abuse, graphic violence, murder, kidnapping, predatory relationships, and imprisonment. Have You Seen Sarah Baker? Copyright© 2023 T.A. Cruz EPUB Edition The Tule Publishing, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED First Publication by Tule Publishing 2023 Cover design by Croco Designs No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. 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Dedication For Debbie… Table of Contents Cover Title Page Copyright Page Dedication PART I: The Badge Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve PART II: The Teacher Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five PART III: The Hunt Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two PART IV: The Dance Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven PART V: The Child Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty Chapter Forty-One Chapter Forty-Two Chapter Forty-Three Chapter Forty-Four Chapter Forty-Five Chapter Forty-Six Chapter Forty-Seven Epilogue Acknowledgments About the Author PART I The Badge CHAPTER ONE Sarah One month missing Creak. The floorboards strained in the room above the cellar, forcing her heavy and swollen eyes open. It was him, and he was coming for her. Again. Each step screamed as his boots adjusted to the rickety wooden staircase. The nails twisted. The foundation shuddered. He whistled; always the same tune when descending the flight. He scraped his hand along the banister like forty-grit sandpaper. The light bulb dangling from the ceiling swayed, highlighting things better left unseen, strewn across the wall. Screwdrivers for stabbing. Metal files to shave down bones. A hacksaw for the larger chunks of her—her entire torso maybe—which would then fit in a black trash bag tossed to the highway embankment. Every time he arrived … Fresh vomit invaded her throat. A numbness in her hands tingled up from the metal shackles over her wrists. They were tighter than yesterday, her penance for fighting harder than she should have. The chains were thick and wove through an iron loop cast inches, if not feet, into the cement wall at her back. She struggled her bare legs over the icy concrete, and gooseflesh trickled up her thigh. Closing her eyes wouldn’t help. Plugging her ears wouldn’t drown out the off-pitch notes. No, she’d still see the large shape of her captor in her head and hear the tune thumping rhythmically with her heart. “Why?” she muttered, rattling the chains while sitting up. “Why are you doing this?” Her voice was hoarse, the same roughness you could expect after screaming for hours on end. Today she had given a round, if not three, and judging by his seemingly on-the-dot visits, it was only lunchtime. The man stopped whistling when he neared. He crouched, set the brown tray in his hands to the floor, and slid it toward her. They stared at each other for a moment; through her terror she tried to maintain the same glare she’d given this man for the past thirty, maybe thirty-five days. It could’ve been longer, after all. She lost count between her hysterics and veering in and out of consciousness. Little sunlight breached the window obscured with curtains and junk thrown haphazardly in front of it. The subtle differences between daylight and dusk were as indistinct as his face. The man before her, however, watched her vacantly. No empathy. No remorse. Only an empty, emotionless gaze. Despite it all, she silently begged for some sort of human interaction, even just to know that what she was dealing with was, in fact, human. He stood upright, turned to the stairs, and started whistling again. “What do you want with me?” she screamed, yanking her arms until the restraints threatened to fracture her wrists. Tangled auburn hair folded over her face and covered her eyes. Fresh tears flowed freely. “Let me out of here!” The door atop the staircase slammed shut, dead bolted, and the shrill whistle faded into the house above. His footsteps shuddered about. Dust rained to the cellar floor. It would stop within minutes if her memory served correctly. He hadn’t stirred for longer than that before settling in what she assumed was a room of some sort. She lowered her head between her knees, and a sharp whine emptied her throat. Cries for help to this point were closer to messages left unchecked on an answering machine. She lifted her head and peered at the food in front of her. The tray itself wasn’t much different than the ones used in the high school cafeteria. It was almost identical. For the smallest of moments, she wasn’t shackled to some stranger’s wall but enjoying the lunch period before the final two classes of the day. It was a dream. An incredibly vivid dream she couldn’t stay in for long. Sarah choked back another cry and swallowed the stone-sized lump in her throat. The chains clattered as she extended a hand to the tray and ripped it back with hesitation. She did this three times in total. Stomach acid pillaged up her throat, but she managed to force it down. He hadn’t poisoned