Read Online A Stranger's Touch by Roxy Boroughs - Free Book Online Page A

touch.
    Nerves raw, she’d even lashed out at the one person helping her. Stafford.
    He’d met her in hell, when she was out of her mind, grappling for any lead, even a psychic one. She wanted to blame him for their ill-conceived search—and Lord knows, she’d tried—but the responsibility was hers. She’d dragged him into this, begged him to come with her, then slapped him in the face with her criticisms.
    She didn’t doubt his sincerity. Clearly, he believed all the mumbo-jumbo. Enough to quit his day job with the big shot investigators. But he had no more idea of her son’s whereabouts than she did.
    The hopelessness of pressing forward dug into her chest. The thought of turning back tore up her insides. Searching for Davie, no matter how faulty her compass, was better than sitting at the station...
    Waiting. Doing nothing.
    Maggie opened her window, the cool air clearing her thoughts. She’d find a way to make it up to Stafford. Pay him extra. Settle his parking tickets. Something. For now, she could at least follow his earthly advice.
    She tipped back the ginger ale and took a sip. Stafford was right. The bubbly sweetness did help settle her stomach. She consumed half then placed the bottle in thecup holder.
    The music on the radio turned to static as they traveled further away from the station’s transmitter. She snapped off the noise and leaned back against the headrest, gazing out the window at the blackness beyond.
    She watched silhouetted clusters of trees and darkened fields zoom past her. Occasionally, a light from a distant farmhouse broke the monotony.
    Maggie closed her eyes and tried to sleep. She prayed that when she woke the nightmarewould be over, that she’d find herself tucked in bed, a giggling Davie running in to tickle her awake.
    She’d get up and make them pancakes. Davie’s favorite. And he’d slather an inch of Cool Whip on top of his. Then they’d get dressed and go to the zoo—one of the places she’d always wanted to see with her dad, but there never seemed to be enough time when she was growing up.
    Maggie took her son as often as she could . They’d been just the month before. Or was it at the start of the summer?
    He loved all the animals. Especially the hippos. She liked them too. Partly, for the way their ears twitched. Mostly, for the way Davie would wrap his arms around her legs, laughing with her as they watched the seven-thousand-pound creatures frolic in the water with the agility of ballerinas.
    They’d grab a couple of hotdogs for lunch then head home. As usual, Maggie would carry Davie into the house, the long walk and the car ride having beckoned him to sleep better than a lullaby.
    She’d hold him tight, feeling him warm against her chest. She’d breathe in the smell of his hair, a mix of baby shampoo, the earth, and that indescribable little boy scent that always made her smile.
    She prayed to wake up to all of that. But sleep never came. Only fear and guilt. And the pair madewretched bunkmates. They took turns grilling her, playing Bad Cop/Bad Cop, with neither providing a sympathetic ear.
    Maggie straightened and rubbed her neck . A blood red strip along the horizon hinted at the sun’s appearance. As the blackness turned into shades of gray, the voices in her head grew fainter. With the light, came new hope. She could meet witnesses. Question them. Follow the trail. Find her son.
    The road curved and a small village came into view. A few stores and houses dotted the highway.
    “Where are we?”
    “Not sure.” Stafford pulled into yet another gas station, one with a convenience store attached. After eighteen stops, Maggie had lost count. All the little towns looked alike, a muddle of places and faces.
    She twisted the cap of her ginger ale and steadied her hand long enough to take a drink. At every turn, she half expected to see Davie running toward her. She checked each shadow, examined every yard. But there was no sign of her boy. The kaleidoscope of