Sins of the Mother: Ethan McCormick Series

By Evan Bond

An eight year old boy goes missing from his home without a trace. The police have no leads and eventually turn their sights on the boy's mother. Desperate, the parents hire private investigator Ethan McCormick. Until now, Ethan has found his new career dull and uneventful. He takes the case and follows the trail of murder and deceit. He finds the truth about the boy's disappearance is darker than he could have ever possibly imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evan Bond
• Release date: Jul 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781393216018

Evan Bond

Evan Bond is a thriller/suspense author who loves blending his love of the outdoors with his writings. He is the author of the best selling psychological thriller Echoes of the Past and his intense action-packed survival account Death Can Wait. He has always had a passion for telling suspenseful stories. Even at a young age, he was crafting horror stories to share with his family and friends.  ​ Evan Bond lives in Tampa, Florida with his wife, Melissa, their two boys, Desmond and Logan, and their cat and dog, Whiskey and Loki. When he's not writing, he can be found adventuring in the outdoors with his family and calling it "research" for his next novel.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Alarge oak tree branch swayed in the wind of a summer storm. It scraped against a nearby window, producing a terrible screeching sound. As the wind howled, the noise from the tree grew worse. Desmond, only eight years old, pressed his hands firmly over his ears. To him, it was not a scary sound but one that was keeping him up into the late night.

Glancing across the room, he could read the glowing green hands of the analog clock on the wall. It was nearly two in the morning, later than he had ever stayed up before. Once, he made it just past midnight but fell asleep shortly after.

The morning light would bring the weekend, not that it mattered much to Desmond. Summer break was in full swing and school was the farthest thing from his mind. Regardless, sleep was still extremely important. His father had spent the last week on a business trip and in the morning he and his mother would pick him up from the airport.

He was excited to see his dad again, but he was also excited for the gifts. From every business trip, Desmond’s father would always bring home gifts. Usually, they were gas station souvenirs, but it did not matter to Desmond. He was excited for them all the same. He still wore a T-shirt his dad had bought for him at a convention in Dallas. On the front were four stereotypically dressed cowboys with old west style rifles propped up on their shoulders. The text above them stated Homeland Security. His mother had found it funny, but he did not understand. Either way, he loved the shirt and wore it as often as he could. Though, the school had sent a note home to his parents saying it was inappropriate for school. 

Now, he only wished he could fall asleep. They would be leaving at the crack of dawn to pick up his father and he did not want to be tired. Desmond begged for the wind to cease. The incessant scraping against the window was echoing in his head and seemed to be growing louder.

A large thunderstorm had rolled through Miami earlier that day. The rain had come down in thick sheets, almost impossible to see through. Lightning streaked across the sky in magnificent white bolts. The wind threatened to tear the house apart. For only a moment, the lights had flickered. Desmond had been nervous the power would go out in the middle of his online game. Being ranked relatively high on the global leaderboard, it would have been terrible for him. When he had shared his worry with his mother, she had rolled her eyes and chuckled. Clearly, she was worried about damage to the house, not lost progress on a game she cared nothing about. 

Lucky for him, the storm eventually died down. Even now, it was nothing more than a howling windstorm. Not a single drop of water fell from the sky. The thought of rain was now making Desmond feel as if he needed to use the bathroom. He tried to ignore it and force himself to sleep, but it was no use.

Gently, he pulled the blankets off his body and swung both feet to the floor. His Master Chief pajamas were slightly too long, bunching up under the heels of his feet. Without bothering to adjust them, Desmond headed down the hall towards the bathroom. 

It was pitch black inside the house. Luckily, he knew his way around like the back of his hand. The small, dim night light emanated from the bathroom like a lighthouse on the ocean. Slowly, he made his way down the hall, careful to avoid tripping over anything that was left out.

The hardwood floor was cold but felt good. His room had been so hot, the long pajamas he wore kept him toasty. He had a pair of pajama shorts he could have worn, but they were SpongeBob SquarePants themed. He felt as if he were too old to wear them now.

Desmond finished up in the bathroom and placed the toilet seat down, Mom had yelled at him too many times to forget. After washing his hands, he headed back to his bedroom. The wind had died down and he was happy to hear the scraping tree branch had stopped. Now he could finally get some sleep.

He crawled into bed and placed the right side of his face against the cool pillow. As he began to drift off to sleep, he heard the scratching return to the window. Desmond let out a deep sigh and placed the pillow over his head. He had hoped to drown out the noise, but it was no use.

There was no way he could sleep in his room. The only option was to sleep in the living room. Though his mom did not like him doing it, he had done it several times before. She never really yelled at him, merely stated he had a bed and he should sleep in it. He felt as if this situation called for it, though.

He sat up in bed and swung his feet over the edge once again. With his back to the window, he grabbed his pillow and blanket. The scratching on the window stopped and turned into something else, something worse...tapping.

Puzzled, Desmond craned his neck around and glanced at the window. In fear, he leaped out of bed and fell to the floor, the blanket draping over his face. Staying this way for several minutes, he dared not peek again. Finally, he worked up the courage to do so. 

This time the window was empty, save for the faint outline of the tree branch outside. He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. He could have sworn he saw a person standing there, looking in his window. Only there had been no facial features. The skin was a pale white and completely smooth like silk. No lips, no eyebrows, nothing. Just a plain white face staring back at him out of the darkness.

His mother had always stopped him from watching horror movies, especially close to bedtime, saying it would give him nightmares. Now he wished he had listened. Once his mother had gone to bed, Desmond had crept into the living room and watched a scary movie on television. It was barely half over when he had quickly changed the channel, too scared to keep watching. Now he was paying for it, seeing monsters in the dark.

His mind was made up now, pushed to the decision by the experience in the room. The living room couch would serve as his bed tonight. With the blanket dragging behind him, he left the room. He could feel the terrible sensation of being watched as he ran down the hallway and into the living room. Over and over he told himself it was only in his mind. 

Dropping his pillow at one end and draping the blanket across the cushions, Desmond turned the couch into a makeshift bed. Flipping on the television, he turned the volume down as low as he could while still being audible. The last thing he wanted to do was wake his mother. She would be upset at him for watching TV this late. After the face in the bedroom, he needed the distraction. 

Some strange cartoon was playing he had never seen before. A young boy followed a tall, gangly man with crazy hair and white coat. They flew through space in a round saucer while arguing about something. Desmond was unsure about the show but decided he did not care.

He placed his head back on the pillow and pulled the blanket up over his head. The soft noise of the television helped put him at ease. Finally, he began to feel sleepy and started to drift off. Within seconds, he was out.

A cold breeze blew past the couch, ruffling the blanket. Desmond rolled his eyes and pulled the blanket down. Without sitting up, he glanced around the room. The television was no longer on, which he thought was odd. He was well aware of the sleep timer function but was positive he had not used it. He hardly ever did.

Then he spotted the living room door, it was wide open. He stared at it for several seconds, like he was able to will it shut on its own. All sorts of thoughts roamed through his mind. Did Mom go outside? Did Dad come home early? Had the wind forced it open? None of them made any sense.

Like an atomic bomb, the thought of the featureless white face exploded into his mind. Fear gripped ever fiber in his body, and he tried to sit up. But something black shot out of the darkness and wrapped around his mouth. It pushed him back down to the pillow with great force.

Slowly, over the back on the couch, the featureless face appeared. It stared down at him, never blinking. Try as he might, Desmond could not scream. The hand over his mouth held too tight. He struggled to break free, but another hand appeared from the darkness, pressing on his chest.

Everything happened very quickly. The white-faced intruder hauled him up into the air, never once pulling a hand from Desmond’s mouth. A sharp prick broke the skin on his neck, and he began to feel groggy. Something was slipped over his head, but it did not matter. Desmond fell fast asleep.

THE CELL PHONE FLASHED to life, its cheerful chirp filling the dark room with sound. Laura Wilson stirred from her bed, reached out to the nightstand, and swiped left for snooze. She knew she had to get up and face the day, but she wanted five more minutes.

When the five minutes were up, the alarm rang again. This time she knew she could not ignore it. Sitting up in bed, she silenced it. With a large yawn and a stretch, she climbed out of bed and made her way to the bathroom.

To fully wake up, she needed her morning coffee. She fished one of her husband’s button up shirts out of the closet. Sliding it down over her bare body, she turned back to the closet. Next, she slid on a pair of short, black gym shorts. She usually wore them around the house in the summertime. Florida got too hot in summer and running the air all day would drain the bank account.

As she strolled down the hallway, she made sure to keep quiet. Her son would still be fast asleep in his bed. There was no reason to wake him, yet. Soon she would have to drag him out of bed and get him dressed. In a little over an hour, they had to leave for the airport to pick her husband up from a business trip.

Jacob, her husband, had insisted he would take a taxi, but Laura had refused, saying they weren’t that far from the airport.

Honey, that’s too early, he had argued. There’s no reason to stress yourself and Desmond like that.

Desmond will be fine. We’re meeting you at the airport and that’s that. No arguing about it.

Jacob had laughed on the phone.

All right, fine. You win. Pick me up at the airport, but don’t you dare complain to me about being tired.

Laura thought back on the conversation with her husband as she started the coffee maker. Opening the fridge, she rooted around looking for something to eat. She resisted the temptation to eat leftovers and shut the fridge. Instead, she opted to grab a banana from on top of the fridge. It was beginning to brown in one place, but she did not care.

She sat down on the couch and turned on the television. As she peeled her banana, she searched for the remote. The TV was tuned to the cartoon station and Laura found that odd. She had been watching a movie on HBO the night before. With Desmond having gone to bed before her, the channel should have been unchanged. She realized it meant he got up in the middle of the night to watch TV. She made a mental note to reprimand him for it later. Now she flipped the station over to the local news.

They were reporting on a missing person’s case that had been going on for a few weeks. Some poor guy had vanished while backpacking in the Everglades. It was not unusual for hikers to go missing there. With over one million acres of wetland, there were bound to be tragedies.

A manhunt had been started in his last known location, but there were no signs. Not even the remnants of a campsite. The whole situation was a bit odd, but Laura barely paid attention. The sweet aroma of coffee infiltrated her nostrils and she pulled herself from the couch.

The news anchor switched to a different story as she poured herself a cup. She glanced at the time on the cable box. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the blue light. It was a quarter after four in the morning, too early to be awake. She wished she had let Jacob take a cab.

Soon she would have to wake up Desmond. They would need to leave around five to get to the airport in time to pick up Jacob. She hoped the plane would not be late. The last thing she wanted to do with her morning was wait around an airport.

Laura could almost feel herself waking up as the coffee poured down her throat. Liquid energy now coursed through her veins. The heavy feeling in her eyelids evaporated now. She cradled the cup of coffee in her hands, feeling its warmth, as she stared at the morning news.

After fifteen minutes, she decided to wake up Desmond and get ready. Most likely he would be a pain to wake up. She did not want to be late because of it. With one last gulp, she finished her coffee, dropped the cup in the sink, and headed towards Desmond’s room.

As she walked by, she rapped her knuckles on the door. Time to wake up, kiddo. She said, continuing down the hallway. No noise came from the room, but she carried on. Walking into her bedroom, she picked out a nice outfit and placed it on the bed. She brushed her teeth and combed the tangled mess that was her hair.

Before slipping out of her clothes, she peeked into the hallway. Desmond’s bedroom door was still shut. Rolling her eyes, Laura stepped back out into the hallway. Desmond Wilson, you need to get up right now. Again, she smacked her knuckles against the door, harder this time. Still, no sound came from the bedroom.

Laura gripped the knob and pushed open the door. For a moment, she stood in shock and confusion. Her heart sped up and her blood pumped faster. She felt like she would faint. Desmond’s bed was empty but neatly made. There was no sign of her son in the room. She tried to calm herself down, thinking he had gone to the bathroom and she had missed him. 

She spun on her heel and looked down the hall towards her bedroom. The bathroom door was wide open, the light off. Hurrying to the kitchen, she found it empty. He was not waiting for breakfast at the table, he was not sitting on the couch. There was no sign of him.

One last place came to mind and she ran down the hallway towards the study. Sometimes he liked to play with his Legos there, though Dad hated it. Many of his disappearing acts had ended with him in the study. 

She kicked the door open with her toes and stumbled inside. There was no sign of her son. It was exactly as her husband had left it a few days ago.

Panic set in. Her son was not in the house. Then she wondered if he had woken up and gone outside. It was not like him, but it was her last hope. Bolting down the hallway, she threw open the front door and darted into the dark morning.

The front yard was empty, the backyard the same. Laura made her way back to the front and began to call his name. When there was no response she dropped to her knees on the driveway, ignoring the pain. With her face buried in her hands, she cried harder than she had ever cried before.

The next-door neighbor, Jerry, was leaving for work as Laura bawled in her driveway. He stopped and stared at her for a moment before walking towards her. Mrs. Wilson? He said. Is everything OK? She did not respond.

He crouched down low and put a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and recoiled from him in horror. He pulled his hand away, confused. Mrs. Wilson, what is it? What’s happened?

Laura did not look up, but said, He’s gone, I can’t find him.

Who’s gone? What happened?

Desmond’s missing, I think someone kidnapped my son!

Saying it aloud sent her into a hysterical fit. Tears rolled down her cheeks uncontrollably. She began to hyperventilate now. Jerry rubbed his temples. Are you sure he’s missing?

Laura craned her neck to look at him. Her eyes narrowed and her face reddened with anger.

Yes, I’m fucking sure. I can’t find him anywhere. Something’s happened to him!

All right let’s get you inside. I’ll call the police.

He helped Laura to her feet and led her inside. Jerry set her down at the kitchen table. Giving her a glass of water, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Instantly, the emergency responder picked up.

911, what is your emergency.

Please, we need help. My neighbor’s son has been kidnapped.

Hearing the words again, only this time from someone else, caused another fit of panic in Laura’s mind. She pressed her forehead against the table. As Jerry spoke with the emergency responder, she felt like a terrible mother. Her son was missing, and she had not even called the police. Her neighbor had to do it for her. She felt like the worst parent in the universe.

Chapter 2

The man in the living room proffered his hand as Jacob walked in the door. He wore black pants, black jacket, and a loose-fitting tie. Immediately, Jacob knew he was a detective. He grasped his hand, trying his hardest to control the shaking. A myriad of emotions flooded through his mind. 

Mr. Wilson, I presume? He said. Jacob nodded. My name is Detective Winchester. Your wife was just finishing up her statement regarding the events which transpired. I have a few questions for you and your wife if you don’t mind.

Anything that could help bring our son back safe.

I assure you that is my goal. I will do everything in my power to find your son.

Jacob spotted Laura sitting on the couch, her eyes red and puffy. Her golden hair matted and pulled back into a ponytail. She had pulled herself together long enough to throw on some clothes, disheveled though they were.

He sat down next to her and wrapped his arms tightly around her. Kissing her forehead, he said, It’s going to be all right. We’ll find him. Laura did not respond. Instead, she buried her face in his shoulder.

Mr. Wilson...

Jacob.

Sure, Jacob, Mrs. Wilson tells me you were away on a business trip this past week.

That’s correct.

May I ask where it was you went?

I guess so if it’s relevant. I was in California.

I see, and what sort of business were you conducting in California.

Meeting with a client of ours. We were working out the final details of a business arrangement.

What type of business, if you don’t mind?

I’m sorry, how is this relevant?

Mr. Wilson...

Please, call me Jacob.

I’m sorry, Jacob, I’m merely trying to gather as much background information as I can. Dealing with missing children can be a sensitive case. It’s best to know family history, habits, and such. It’s important in determining whether we are dealing with a child abduction case or simply a runaway.

Are you suggesting my son ran away from home?

That’s impossible, Laura chimed in. We’re a great family, he’s a wonderful kid.

Mrs. Wilson, I am not implying anything to the contrary. Many things can factor into a child running away from home, not necessarily a dysfunctional home. In some cases, a child starved for attention from a particular parent will run away.

He’s not starved for attention, Detective, Jacob said, staring daggers at the man.

I did not mean to offend you, Jacob. Please, understand it is my job to ask these questions. I need to do everything I can to narrow down the cause of your son’s disappearance. Every detail, no matter how small, may aid that investigation.

The detective continued to ask what seemed like meaningless questions about their home life. Jacob allowed himself to slip back to the memory of his cab ride home. Minutes after the plane had touched the tarmac, Laura had called. She was beyond hysterical, hardly able to calm down. Eventually, he was able to soothe his wife and get her to talk.

That was when she dropped the news like a forty-ton brick. Desmond was missing. Their son had been snatched in the middle of the night. Jacob had been unable to respond. His knees had gone weak and palms were sweaty. A sound came from his throat, but no words.

When his wife began to cry again over the phone, he finally worked up the courage to speak. Jacob, amazingly, helped her to settle down and take deep breaths. Obviously, she had been in no condition to drive so he told her he would catch a cab and be home as soon as possible.

Is there anyone who would want to see harm come to your family?

Jacob was pulled back from his memory like a fish on a line, yanked back to the terrible reality that was his life. He looked at the detective with a confused look plastered on his face.

No one I can think of. What are you suggesting?

Is there anyone that would want to hold your son for ransom? Anyone that might think you’ve wronged them in the past? Or believe you owe them money? You know, any enemies?

No, there’s no one like that.

Detective Winchester scribbled in his small notebook.

Mrs. Wilson, you were home at the time Desmond went missing, correct?

She wiped her eyes.

Yes.

Did you have any visitors over last night? Did you speak to anyone on the phone before you went to bed? Anyone who can validate you were home all night.

A whole minute ticked past without Laura saying a word. She stared directly into the detective’s eyes. Jacob shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to will her to speak.

Are you accusing me of having something to do with this?

Not at all, Mrs. Wilson. Like I’ve said before, I’m simply gathering the facts. These questions are all standard procedure.

How dare you come into my home when my child is missing and accuse me of being involved. My little boy is missing. You should be out there trying to catch the monster who took him. Instead, you’re wasting your time grilling me and my husband!

Detective Winchester brushed his hair back and glanced away from Laura. Closing his notebook, he said, I’m sorry, I can see I have offended you. Please know I am only trying to cover all the bases. He stood up and the Wilsons did likewise.

I think I have gathered as much information as I can. I’ll see myself out. Before I go, he pulled a small, white card from his jacket pocket. If you think of any information, anything you think might be important, give me a call. He handed it to Laura and gave her a sympathetic smile.

Wait, detective Winchester, aren’t you going to look for evidence in his room? You know, dust for prints, check for DNA samples?

Detective Winchester gave a slight shake of his head. I’m sorry, ma’am, the room was clean. The bed was made, there was no sign of forced entry, not even a scuff on the floor. Whoever took your son may have a key to your home. Desmond might even have known the person. I suggest changing the locks right away. Laura said they would.

I’m going to do anything I can find your son. I promise.

With that, Detective Winchester walked out of the house and into the humid morning air. Jacob shut the door behind him. Laura wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. She could no longer hold back. Tears burst down her cheeks like raging waterfalls. Jacob held her tight as she began to shake.

DETECTIVE WINCHESTER left the Wilson’s home with a strange feeling in his gut. Something was off about the crime scene. No sign of struggle, no evidence at all. It was too clean, too perfect. Something had to be wrong. Mr. and Mrs. Wilson had denied and even scoffed at the idea of Desmond running off with a family member or friend.

It did not make any sense. Most child abduction cases were carried out by someone the child already knew. With the abduction taking place at the home, and with no marks in the house, it seemed that was the case. However, there were no family members that could be a prime suspect. No custody battles over the child with a crazy ex-spouse, no grandparents that wanted to pull the child from a dysfunctional home, no family members with any problems at all.

Winchester pulled his cruiser into the parking lot of a family diner. His stomach ached and gurgled loudly. It was time to get some breakfast in his stomach and go over the details of this case in his mind. He thought best while he ate. 

As he sat down in a booth, he went over the facts in his mind. The boy’s father had been on a business trip the entire week, his alibi was solid. The mother was at home the time of the abduction. There was no way to validate the claim, but it seemed unlikely she was involved. He had looked into her eyes, seen the pain and suffering. His gut told him she was not involved, yet he still could not shake the odd feeling.

The house had been too perfect. The bed was neatly made, nothing was out of place in the bedroom, the windows were all locked, and the dead bolt had been locked. Whoever got in had a key. Which led him right back to a family member being the possible culprit. His thoughts were only racing in circles.

The waitress strolled up to the table. She was an older woman, slightly overweight; the white shirt she wore stained with grease and splotches of ketchup. Dark bags had formed under her eyes, most likely from years of working the early morning shifts.

Something to drink? She asked, unenthusiastically.

Decaf please.

I’ll be right back with that

She disappeared behind the counter and into the kitchen. Seconds later she returned, a coffee pot with a bright orange handle gripped in her right hand. He watched as she poured the coffee into his marble white mug. A few splashes fell over the edge and landed safely in the saucer. Without saying a word, the woman returned the pot to the kitchen. A few minutes later she came back to take his order.

While he waited for his breakfast to arrive, Winchester looked around the diner. It was surprisingly busy for the early hour. Some had stopped in for an early breakfast and morning coffee before work. The diner was known for its great tasting food and quick service.

Then he spotted a man in the corner of the diner, no food on his table. There was a lone coffee mug pushed out in front of him, but he ignored it completely. He held the sides of his head with his elbows resting on the table. The man was clearly distraught over something, but Winchester decided he did not care. It was probably a cheating wife, or better yet an affair that got out of control.

Behind him, the door swung open. Instinctively he spun around to see who had entered. It was a taller man, with a lean physique. He wore tan cargo pants and an all-black, button up shirt. If Winchester had to guess, the shirt almost looked silk.

The casual clothes did not match the stern expression on his face as if he was in the middle of a job. His hazel eyes scanned the room before stopping. He walked towards the back of the diner and sat with the man holding his head in his hands. Now Winchester was interested.

People watching had become something of a hobby since he joined the force. It was something he often did in his cruiser to pass the time. It was interesting trying to guess where people had come from or where they were going. He thought the man was a