Sheriff Carter Link: Vanished

By Troy Pendleton and Charles Little, Jr

Life in Prestonsburg Kentucky was simple and safe until Vanessa “Nessa” Holbrook vanished 20 years ago. Now her childhood best friend, Sheriff Carter Link, must solve the vanishing of another little girl. Is it a copycat or could Carter finally bring the person who took Nessa to justice?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Troy Pendleton
• Release date: Jan 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005249236

Troy Pendleton

I started writing when he was in seventh grade. With my overactive imagination, I wrote a short story for a class that was later printed in the local paper. It was the first thing in my life that I was extremely proud of. My teacher, Mrs. Scott, saw my talent and encouraged me to continue to write. I did just that for a couple of years but like most kids found interest in other things. After setting aside my love of writing and drawing as a teen, I returned to it as a young man and started writing stories and creating comic book characters. Using my children, loved ones, and friends as inspiration, I have created over a hundred characters and stories that I still hope to publish. I’ve always considered myself more of a creator than a writer, so I spent two decades looking for a collaborator and in 2017 I found not one but two people willing to write with me. After several collaborations with Charles Little Jr and Tammy Dale, I feel like he can finally write on my own. I am grateful for everything I have learned from them and others, and I set out to write the second and third novels in the Sheriff Carter Link series. I plan to continue on with the novels I have started along with creating new stories and characters. I also hope that someday I can help others with their dreams of becoming published authors.

Book preview

Sheriff Carter Link

Vanished

Troy Pendleton

& Charles Little Jr

Self-Published by:

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2016 by New Legend Books & Comics

Cover Art © 2017 by New Legend Books & Comics

This book is a work of fiction. Names character, places, and incidents either are of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Dedication

This story came about due to my love of country music, especially that of Dwight Yoakam and Daryle Singletary. Their music was the inspiration for this book series and I’m very grateful to them for the years of enjoyment I’ve had listening to their music. The world lost a great artist when Daryle died suddenly in 2018. You will be missed, Daryle.

Troy Pendleton

A lifelong dream of mine is nearing fulfillment as Troy and I publish our second book. It’s our sincere desire to provide quality-reading material that both inspires and entertains while at the same time maintaining a high standard of moral values. I hope you love this book as much as we enjoyed writing it.

Charles Little Jr

We would also like to send out a special thank you to Billy Ray's Restaurant in Prestonsburg for being a part of Carter’s Legend. They are a Legend in their own right.

New Legend Books & Comics

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Where are you

Chapter 2: Aftermath

Chapter 3: Unhappy Anniversary

Chapter 4: Nessa’s Parents

Chapter 5: Carter’s Parents

Chapter 6: Where is Jasmine?

Chapter 7: Albert Sherman

Chapter 8: The Prints

Chapter 9: Surveillance

Chapter 10: A Clue

Chapter 11: New Hope

Chapter 12: The Island

Chapter 13: A Clue from the Past

Chapter 14: Shock and Rage

Chapter 15: Who did it

Chapter 16: How could you

The Legend Lives On!

Request from the Authors

More Books from Troy

About Troy Pendleton

About Charles Little Jr.

Chapter 1: Where are you

At nearly nine p.m. on October 15th, Floyd County Sheriff Tom Link paced back and forth in front of John, Melissa, and Vanessa Holbrook’s home. His six-foot-tall 200-pound frame cast a long shadow in the harsh light of the nearest streetlight. Despite being forty-five years of age the sheriff moved with the effortless athletic gait of someone at least twenty years his junior. If not for his salt and peppered hair, which seemed to be growing grayer by the minute, it would’ve been easy to mistake him for a much younger man.

Tom had an uncharacteristic look of worry on his usually expressionless face though it went unnoticed by all except for those who knew him best. To everyone else, he seemed to be in complete control of the situation. After all, most things that happened in the Southeastern Kentucky town of Prestonsburg were easily handled by a man of his intellect, skills, and experience. What he wasn’t able to deduce with his mind the sheriff normally pushed through with sheer determination and force of will. This case, however, wasn’t going to be an easy one to solve, and it took less than 18 hours for the seasoned lawman to come to that conclusion.

The sheriff had received a call from Mrs. Holbrook at just past three a.m. that morning. Her daughter, Vanessa, who was more commonly known by her nickname, Nessa, had vanished from her room without a trace. Melissa told Tom that she’d woken up to use the bathroom at about 2:15 a.m. On the way back to the room she shared with her husband, the doting mother decided to check on the girl and discovered her bed not only empty but also neatly made.

Neither of those things added up. Nessa had gone to her room exhausted no more than four hours earlier, likely to sleep in until at least nine or ten the next morning if left undisturbed. She also never made her bed without being threatened by a grounding or some other punishment equally heinous to a 12-year-old. There wasn’t any way she would’ve done it on her own in the middle of the night.

After frantically looking in Nessa’s closet, behind the dresser, and under the bed Melissa immediately checked every other room before waking John and telling him their daughter was nowhere to be found. The couple then combed through the house together, calling out the girl’s name repeatedly, before going out in the yard and looking behind every tree and bush. After forty minutes of a fruitless search, Melissa ran back inside and grabbed the phone, dialing sheriff Link’s home number from memory.

Tom groggily answered just before the fourth ring, Hello?

Sheriff, this is Melissa Holbrook. Have you seen Nessa in the past couple hours? She isn’t in her bed and John and I can’t find her anywhere.

No, Tom replied as he glanced across the room at the glowing red letters of the alarm clock sitting on the dresser, I haven’t seen her since we left your house around ten o’clock last night. We were all asleep by ten thirty. You say you’ve checked everywhere?

Yes, Melissa answered, We’ve even looked outside. The only thing I can think of is maybe she and your son cooked up a plan for her to sneak out and go to your house or something. That’s not likely because they’re both aware of the kind of trouble they’d be in for pulling off such a stunt, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind. Those two are crazy about each other you know. I almost wouldn’t put it past them.

Yeah, they’re definitely fond of one another but I doubt they’d come up with a scheme like that. I’m sure she’s somewhere close by. Tom found himself smiling despite Melissa’s frightened tone and the urgency of the situation. His son Carter and the Holbrook’s daughter were the best of friends and had been inseparable since the family moved to the area five years prior when both kids were seven.

Nessa was a beautiful girl of average height with blonde hair and fair skin who’d caught Carter’s attention right away, even though he continued to claim that girls were gross and infested with cooties. He’d already managed to get into more than one fight with the other boys because they picked on her so much. Of course, most of these altercations resulted in him getting beat up but the young man thought it was worth it to defend his friend.

Unlike Carter, who was reserved and somewhat shy, Nessa was a bit of a wild child. She always got the boy in trouble and had a way of persuading him to do things he knew he wasn’t supposed to although they weren’t ever overly bad offenses. The two were constantly on the move and would often sneak off to swim in nearby Abbott Creek or disappear into the woods for hours at a time even though both sets of parents had warned the kids they should always stay close by. Overall, however, the Links and Holbrooks were pleased with their children’s relationship, especially since neither had siblings.

…come over? We’re worried about Nessa, asked Melissa, oblivious to the fact that Tom’s mind had wandered off and that he didn’t hear most of what she’d said in the past ten seconds.

I’ll be right there, he replied, figuring it was the most suitable response based on the bits and pieces he’d caught. Tell John I’ll find Nessa soon and everything will be okay. The sheriff ended the conversation by putting the phone back in its cradle on the nightstand. He then rolled over and realized for the first time his wife wasn’t in bed with him. That wasn’t at all unusual because she often had trouble sleeping. Most times after waking up in the middle of the night she didn’t try to go back to bed right away. Instead, she’d get up, make a pot of chamomile tea, grab a book, and head straight for her favorite chair in the living room intending to read until she got tired.

Kristie Link had always been an avid reader who consumed books like a chain smoker goes through cigarettes, one right after the other. Tom didn’t understand how anyone had the ability to sit there staring at pieces of paper for countless hours on end. To him, reading was by far the most boring activity a person could spend their time doing. He was lucky to get through all the police reports and various law enforcement manuals he did, and that was only because he had no choice.

The sheriff got out of bed and stood up, still thinking about his wife’s reading habit. He rolled his eyes and shook his head as he walked toward the closet to put on his uniform and shoes. Once dressed Tom grabbed his service pistol and holster off the nightstand, then attached them to his belt as he headed out of the bedroom and into the hall, already trying to think of places Nessa might be. Before passing his son’s room he cracked the door a few inches and looked inside to find the boy sound asleep. ‘Well,’ he thought to himself as he closed the door, ‘at least I know they didn’t sneak off together.’ He then continued down the hall and through the kitchen.

As Tom suspected, Kristie was sitting in the living room with her nose buried in her latest conquest, a paperback entitled ‘Dead or Alive: The Reaper’s Redemption’. She’d insisted on running down to the local bookstore the previous day to get it while the family headed to Food City on a mission to grab burgers and chips for a cookout the Holbrook’s were hosting. They were already running late and her detour would add at least fifteen minutes to their time, but Tom knew better than to argue with his wife when she wanted a new book.

The two families had grown close over the past few years. They’d first become acquainted because of Carter and Nessa’s relationship but it hadn’t taken long before both sets of parent’s realized they enjoyed each other’s company. During the summer it wasn’t uncommon for them to have several get-togethers. Even though it was early October, the weather had been unseasonably warm and dry, with the daytime highs still hovering in the upper 80s. Both Tom and John figured it would be a great idea to have one last cookout before the cold set in.

Guess What?, Kristie asked without even taking her eyes from the page she was reading, The main character in this book reminds me a lot of you. Well, your personality anyway. He’s a hitman who happens to also be a member of a rough and tough motorcycle club. I know you’d never be involved with either of those things but you do act a lot like the guy.

She then looked up for the first time since he’d walked into the room and furrowed her eyebrows as she glanced over at the clock sitting on the mantle. Tom, what are you doing up and dressed for work so early?

I got a call from Melissa Holbrook, he replied with a sigh, She and John woke up a little while ago and discovered that Nessa is missing. They’ve looked all over the house and yard and can’t find any sign of her. It’s like she vanished without a trace.

You’ve got to be kidding! Kristie exclaimed as she put the book facedown on the coffee table and leaned forward in the chair, giving her husband her undivided attention. That poor girl! Surely she’s around there somewhere and they’ve just overlooked her. I almost wouldn’t be surprised if Nessa was hiding. That child does have a bit of a mischevious streak ya know.

I wish that were the case, said Tom, The Holbrooks searched for an hour themselves with no luck. I’m going to run over and see if I can find any clues or signs of foul play.

Is there anything I can do to help? Kristie asked. Before Tom answered her eyes widened, and she shot up out of the chair, What about Carter? Is he okay?

He’s still in bed sound asleep, Tom replied as he put his hand on his wife’s shoulder, and no, there isn’t anything you can do. I’m hoping to be back here soon, anyway. Nessa might even turn up before I make it over there.

You’re probably right, said Kristie as she looked up into her husband’s eyes, Please be careful. I don’t like it when you go out this late.

He let a small smile play across his face then said, Technically it’s not late at all. As a matter of fact, it’s actually pretty early in the morning.

Oh, whatever, said Kristie as she shook her head, Why don’t you get out of here and go find that poor girl?

Sounds like a plan, Tom replied as he bent down and kissed his wife on the forehead. I’ll keep you posted if there are any further developments.

Please do. I’ll most likely stay in here another hour before I even try to go back to sleep, said Kristie as she sat back down in the chair and picked up the book. My chamomile tea is already working on me. I’m hoping Nessa will turn up and you’ll be home sooner than later.

That would be great, wouldn’t it? Tom replied as he turned around, picked up his keys from the wooden bowl sitting on the shelf next to the front entryway, grabbed the tan Stetson hat he always wore, put it on his head, and unlocked the door. He then swung the door open and walked out onto their large covered front porch, closing and re-locking the door behind him. Without hesitation, he took one long stride off the porch, passing over the two concrete steps, and headed down the flagstone pathway that connected the house to the parking pad at the end of their long gravel driveway.

A few seconds later the sheriff opened the driver’s side door of his Floyd County patrol car. Once inside the vehicle, he started the engine and coasted down the narrow drive that wound through the heavily wooded holler for a half mile before meeting Abbott Creek Road. When he reached the edge of the pavement Tom looked both ways to make sure no one was approaching from either direction, then turned left.

After traveling less than three-quarters of a mile, right before he made it to the road the Holbrooks lived on, he saw the bright flash of oncoming headlights. He hugged the right side of the lane as tightly as he could to give the approaching vehicle extra room to pass. Abbott Creek Road was nearly as narrow as his driveway despite being both heavily trafficked and residential. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t uncommon to see the side mirrors of full-sized pickup trucks folded back to prevent them from being knocked off while passing other vehicles on the road.

Two seconds later Tom saw a familiar beat-up old station wagon coming around the curve in front of him. It was driven by Lester Chaffins, a local middle-aged fellow who’d been delivering the Floyd County Times for as long as he could remember. Lester waved, and the sheriff tipped his hat though he couldn’t help but peer in the car’s windows to make sure that the older man was alone. All he saw were bundles and bundles of newspapers. Tom hadn’t expected anything different, and still thought Nessa was most likely around her house somewhere, but one couldn’t be too cautious in a situation like this.

When he again had the road to himself Tom continued around the curve and drove another quarter mile until he came upon Abbott Road on his left, which was a short and sparsely populated dead-end lane about two-and-a-half miles from HWY 23. He stopped for a moment to make sure no one was coming then turned and headed down Abbott. Less than one minute later he saw the Holbrook’s red-brick ranch-style house through the trees to his right. From his current vantage point, it appeared that every light in the house had been turned on. When he reached their driveway, he followed it until his cruiser was just behind John’s late model 4x4 pickup.

Tom took a deep breath then exhaled it as he killed the engine, opened the door, got out of the vehicle, and walked up the sidewalk toward the Holbrook’s home. Before he’d even traveled ten feet from the car, the front door of the house burst open and both parents