Stolen Lives

By Esfandiar Ghodrati

A close-knit family suffers a catastrophic loss. A year later, three children go missing, presumed dead. Twenty years on, a police chase reveals the single thread connecting the families who suffered those tragic losses. A long-buried secret could bring them closer together. .....Or tear them apart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Esfandiar Ghodrati
• Release date: Oct 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005438319

Esfandiar Ghodrati

Esfandiar Ghodrati is an entrepreneur, author, producer, philanthropist and founder of New Era Group of companies, as well as other institutions and companies. He writes books for children and adults and his work has been translated into other languages.

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Stolen Lives

Copyright © 2022 Esfandiar Ghodrati

First edition 2022

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the copyright holder.

The Author has made every effort to trace and acknowledge sources/resources/individuals. In the event that any images/information have been incorrectly attributed or credited, the Author will be pleased to rectify these omissions at the earliest opportunity.

ISBN 978-1-7386625-0-0

Published by Esfandiar Ghodrati using Reach Publishers’ services,

P O Box 1384, Wandsbeck, South Africa, 3631

Edited by Jane Goodfellow for Reach Publishers

Cover designed by Reach Publishers

Website: www.reachpublishers.org

E-mail: [e-mail]

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Esfandiar Ghodrati

[e-mail]

Dedication

To my lovely wife, Farideh Sobhani Ghodrati, my daughter Deena Ghodrati Hessari, and my son Daruosh Ghodrati Hessari, who read the story and gave me valuable input.

Rose, you are lost dust rested in ground but your scent still lingers when you can’t be found

- By Deena Ghodrati Hessari

About the Author

Esfandiar Ghodrati divides his time between Canada, where his family is based, and Botswana, where he is the founder of New Era College of Arts, Science & Technology, an institution of higher education focusing on multiple disciplines in fields of engineering, tourism and hospitality.

Stolen Lives is a revised version of Ghodrati’s first novel, The Patriarch’s Family, published in 2011. He has also published a children’s book, Land of the Legend.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the following people, without whom this book would not have been possible.

Bill Bellfontaine

Cheryl Ntumy

1

Baltimore, MD, 1996

It was the third morning Diana had woken in fear from the dream of being evicted from her small, rented home. Wide awake and breathing hard, she glanced at the bedside clock and tossed aside the covers. The bedroom was faintly lit by the feeble glow peeking through the shade of a small, pink bedside lamp and an ill-fitting window blind that added little cheer to her sparsely furnished surroundings. Diana walked across a faded rug to the room across the hall, where her son Joseph was sleeping.

Chirp chirp, Sweetheart, she whispered. Time to wake up.

A three-year-old face turned on the pillow, awakened by her kiss. She left him and went straight to the bathroom. With eyes still bleary, Joseph brought his arms out from under an aging quilt to shut out the garish overhead light Diana had turned on. He yawned, listened briefly to the sound of running water, and then wriggled out from under the blanket to lean into an orange crate holding a jumble of toys. He sat up, holding a blue dump truck in his hands. The paint was chipped and there were a few small dents in the toy. He set it on the floor, then bent over the box again and began filling the toy with small, colored wooden blocks.

In the bathroom, his mother pulled back the shower curtain and emerged from the tub with a towel wrapped around her slender body. She raised a hand to clear steam from the mirror and studied her reflection. The twenty-four-year-old saw someone she didn’t like very much anymore, eyes tired and saggy from working overtime. Though her posture was upright, shoulders back and head held high, she felt fragile and insecure. She dried her face and hair with a small towel, then massaged her temples with her slender fingertips. After a deep breath she turned away from the mirror. She couldn’t help thinking about how stressful and lonely her life had become since she had forced her husband out of the small house and started raising her child on her own.

She opened the bathroom door and returned to her bedroom, hurriedly combing her hair before changing into a plaid skirt and white blouse. She went into the living room to make a brief, terse phone call and then returned to the bathroom. Dampening the end of a small towel patterned with dinosaurs, Diana returned to her son’s bedroom. He turned to see her walking towards him with a smile.

I have to get you a new truck, Joseph; this one’s getting too old, she said as she cleaned his face and hands with the damp end of the towel.

Mommy, no! I like my twuck, he lisped.

She changed him out of his pajamas into blue jeans and his favorite T-shirt, the one with an image of a cartoon turtle. This was not the life she had envisioned for herself, or for him. When she had found herself pregnant and unprepared for it, she and Sebastian had assumed that getting married would make everything fall into place. Now her marriage was in tatters and she had no idea how she was going to build a secure future for her son.

Taking his tiny hand in hers, she led Joseph downstairs. He used his other hand to grasp the worn banister rail. They walked onto kitchen linoleum pock-marked with bare patches. Diana poured a small glass of juice, handed it to Joseph, and turned back to put the kettle on while Joseph climbed awkwardly onto a low stool. He held the glass in both hands and started to sip slowly.

We have a busy day, Sweetie, Diana told him, stirring hot water into a bowl to make instant porridge. She set it in front of him with a little milk to cool it down. Mommy’s taking you for a haircut, okay?

He nodded. She walked away to make herself some coffee as he got a clumsy grasp on the spoon and began to fill his mouth with oatmeal. She heard the sound of the car pulling up outside and sighed. As relieved as she was that Sebastian had come on time, she wasn’t in the mood to deal with him. She waited until his loud knock sounded before moving towards the front door.

Joseph scrambled down from his seat, shouting, Daddy!

That’s right, said Diana, trying to hide her aggravation. Daddy’s here.

* * *

Sebastian had guessed from Diana’s phone call, and now from the look on her face when the door opened, that she’d worked herself into a snit about having to ask him for the car that day. Their blue sedan was used by her on alternate days, but today he was fed up with her inability to plan around his schedule. She had decided on impulse that she must run various errands, and she must do them immediately.

Hey, buddy, he said, bending to lift Joseph. Good to see you.

I’m having oatmeal, the boy announced proudly.

Really? Oatmeal? Yum! Sebastian glanced at Diana as he entered the apartment. Go finish your breakfast while Mommy and I talk, okay? He set Joseph down and the little boy hurried back to his meal.

Did you bring the money? Diana demanded. I need to buy food, pay the rent and get a bunch of other things. And I have to get Joseph’s hair cut for his school picture. Does the car need gas? Who’s paying for it, me again?

Sebastian bristled at her tone. Why did she have to be so belligerent? She knew she would get her way; she always did.

There’s gas, he sighed. I wish you could wait just a few hours, but since your errands are life and death... He dropped the car keys into her open palm. I’ll borrow Jimmy’s Jeep so I can keep my appointment.

She let out a derisive snort. Are you finally going to get a real job, or will I be taking care of everything for the rest of Joseph’s life?

He modulated his voice, hoping to reason with her. Why do we keep on about this? Maybe I haven’t got anything going full time, but I’m doing okay, and there’s another freelance writing job coming today.

She stared darkly into his face as he pulled a wallet from his back pocket, removed a thin sheaf of money and held it out. That’s it?

That’s all I have from last week’s work.

I’m really tired of hearing the same old garbage, she cried as she grabbed the money out of his hand and shuffled the bills quickly. For the past three years I’ve been the one working to put food on the table and pay the rent, while you haven’t had a worthwhile job since graduation!

His jaw tensed and he snapped, Hey, give me some credit, alright? I’m running around all day long doing interviews! Something’s sure to break soon. Hell, I’m even working part time as a bouncer at Cino’s until the full-time writing spot comes along.

What? she cried. "You, a bouncer at a nightclub? A university graduate, going around beating up on a bunch of drunken hillbillies? What happened to the glittering journalism career you’re always talking about?"

Do you think this is what I wanted? He shook his head in frustration. Three years of temp jobs after working so hard? Of course not, Diana! Freelance writing for a small community newspaper pays nothing compared to steady employment and the benefits I could get from being a staff writer at a daily newspaper or monthly magazine, but those are the breaks, okay? I take what I can get, and still, it’s never enough for you!

Raising a child is expensive, Sebastian, and all I want is a little help!

I give you as much support as I can! he cried. I’m basically penniless, and you just keep asking for more!

Stop yelling! whined Joseph and began to cry.

Breathing heavily, Diana turned and picked up the child. It’s okay, Baby. We’re just talking.

Hey, don’t cry. Sebastian’s voice softened. He touched the boy’s cheek gently. Everything’s fine, I promise.

Diana cleared her throat. I’m supposed to be at the barber shop in thirty minutes and I have other things that need doing first.

Fine. Joseph, Buddy, I’ll see you soon, okay?

The boy sniffled and nodded. Diana grabbed the door handle, her head jerking to one side in a gesture of dismissal. Sebastian felt his cheeks burn as he stepped out and watched the door close.

When the baby had arrived, Diana had chosen to become a full-time mother, relying solely on Sebastian’s income to pay the bills with his promise of a proper future. But he couldn’t make good on this promise. The daily struggle was compounded by their continuous verbal conflict that drew to an end only when Sebastian reluctantly agreed to a separation.

Her parents had never wanted them to get married; they didn’t approve of him, and his difficulty in finding work simply gave them more ammunition. As if that wasn’t enough, they stubbornly refused to babysit, as if to punish Diana for having married Sebastian against their will. Sebastian was secretly relieved; he didn’t want Joseph cared for by the bitter, abusive alcoholics who had made Diana’s childhood so miserable.

He stood on the doorstep and pulled out his phone. With a sigh, he dialed his friend Jimmy Barr’s number. Hey Jimmy, it’s Sebastian. Listen, I need a favor…

* * *

Not long after Sebastian had left, Diana emerged, pushing Joseph in an old stroller. Across the driveway stood an old four-door car. There was rust at the wheel wells which was barely noticeable beneath their cloak of dirt. She lifted the child and secured him in a baby carrier on the back seat, tugging at the adult seatbelt fastenings behind it before closing the door and folding the stroller into the trunk. The lid needed to be slammed twice before remaining closed. The effort made her clench her jaw, and she didn’t release it until after the car started. She took a deep breath before backing the car into the road and driving away impatiently.

A half-block away, a black van moved from the curb and followed the sedan. It was driven by a heavy-set man wearing faded green coveralls that looked as worn and old as he did. The top of his gold-rimmed sunglasses leaned against his heavy eyebrows and angled onto cheeks that were normally clean-shaven but now displayed a week of growth. The ill-fitting sunglasses, coveralls, baseball cap and shabby beard had become a popular style of dress for Robbie Blake over the past few days. The outfit was far removed from his usual clothing, and it gave him a sense of satisfaction to think he was clever enough to change his appearance. He prided himself on being a professional at everything he undertook.

Here we go, he growled into the windshield, turning to the bulky, brown-haired woman beside him. Ready, Barb?

Keep your eyes on the target, Robbie, was her reply. I’m always ready.

* * *

Diana felt the tightness in her chest fade as she slowed down, traffic building up around her. Impatience drifted just below the surface, and she knew the flare of tension and anger could be set off again at the slightest disturbance.

She turned on the radio and took a deep breath. As she nodded her head to the beat of the music, she flashed a brief glance in the rear-view mirror at her son. Ignoring the trail of vehicles behind, she returned her attention to the traffic ahead, totally unaware that a black van was following her, tucked into traffic at a discreet distance in the line-up behind her.

Centreville, Queen Anne’s County, MD

A car waited in the darkened shade of a large pine tree, just behind the brow of a hill. The driver - a tall, slender man of about thirty with thinning brown hair pulled into a ponytail - lolled in his seat, holding a magazine placed on the steering wheel. Whenever traffic passed, he would lower his gaze to the page, pretending to read. Once the road was clear, he raised a pair of binoculars from his lap to a craggy face, observing the activities of the occupants of an old farmhouse at the end of a short country lane.

He stiffened and sat upright when a woman in her twenties opened and held the screen door for a girl dressed in school uniform. The door was released, slamming against the jamb before they went across the wide verandah and down the front steps. They walked quickly across the front yard, turning to wave back to an older woman and a small child behind the screen door. They continued chatting happily as they approached the yellow school bus pulling up to their stop on the main road.

At the T-intersection, the binoculars in the hairy hands of Davie Gaven now viewed a small car with a young man in a rumpled suit standing at the front fender.

The father, the observer muttered as he watched the woman speak in passing to the man, then continue quickly with the girl to where the school bus waited. With a quick hug, they parted. The moment the girl stepped aboard, the door started closing as the yellow hulk pulled impatiently away, crowded with the activity of high-spirited kids. Concerned for her daughter’s safety, the woman took a step forward, then waved with a relieved smile when she saw her daughter flop into a seat just as the bus disappeared in the swirling dust.

The binoculars remained focused on the woman as she stopped to talk at the car and didn’t leave her until she entered a side door of the house a few minutes later. Then they were lowered to the passenger seat and left atop a thin manila folder containing papers and photographs. Davie’s hand moved across to retrieve a cell phone, pressed numbers, and awaited the unfriendly greeting that came as no surprise.

Well? What?

He smiled. Hey, Boss, everything’s dead on, just like the file says.

Good, was the brusque reply, and then the call was cut off.

* * *

At a second location in the same town, a short dark-haired man in his early twenties drove a late model station wagon through the narrow twisting roads, looking for a particular home.

His mind ran back to the previous day’s meeting and Willie’s chilling threats concerning what would happen to him if he messed up.

He remembered blurting out, Hey, you can trust me, I know what I’m doing!

But of course, Willie knew better. Shaun was small fry, a kid in Willie’s eyes, and he knew it. A few hijacked cars couldn’t generate the same trust that Willie had come to expect from those with more experience.

Shaun could feel the tension rising, carefully noting the faded house number and name on each mailbox. He returned to one of his observation points beneath a large tree, arriving just a few minutes before a white van approached and stopped in front of the house he was monitoring. The driver was a solidly built man. From the passenger side a woman emerged, with a child about two years of age carefully nestled in her arms, while a small diaper bag swung from the crook of her elbow.

Shaun levered the seat back and slumped down with the peak of his baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. His eyes never left the house and its surroundings, continually returning to the aging white van in the driveway, even as other cars pulled up alongside it. He’d followed the family previously to confirm that the information in the file was accurate. It was. Each working day they stopped at this day-care center, where a young woman minded toddlers throughout the day until the parents returned from various jobs in the city.

Six or seven children were at play in the side-yard, where they would remain until it was time for their mid-morning snack, or lunch, prepared and served in the kitchen at the rear of the house. Throughout the day their minder would appear at upper or lower windows with a broom or duster in hand, then, satisfied that the children were safely playing, she would leave to continue doing the housework for her two monthly boarders.

When the children’s afternoon break was over, the television was turned on, the sound set low, lulling most children to sleep. Their parents would return by five o’clock.

Shaun scowled, annoyed with himself for growing so anxious as the time for action neared. He couldn’t help thinking about the possibility of getting caught. No mistakes or you own them, came Willie’s voice, haunting him. He wouldn’t make any mistakes. Repeatedly reviewing every detail of his observations, he was sure the plan was well set in his head, certain he’d act without hesitation — like a well-trained soldier.

He had to handle everything right. It was too late to pull out, having spent every cent of the money he received upfront living the high life of booze, drugs and easy women. His fear prevailed, knowing Willie was not a man anyone would want to mess with, especially if the person he had hired chose to try to disappear before the job was successfully finished.

By the time the parents had gone, including the owners of the white van, Shaun felt cramped in spite of the comfortable seat. He arched his back to ease his aching muscles and waited until the street was clear, the woman was indoors and the children played happily, unattended for the time being. Then he opened the door and stepped out. It was time.

Baltimore, MD

Michal’s Barber Shop was located in a plaza, but with no parking space in front, Diana had to park a short distance away in a large shopping mall lot.

Okay, Joseph, she said as she hefted the child from his seat and carried him into the barbershop.

The barber looked up as they entered and shook his head. You’re late, he called to her, his voice laced with irritation. You’ll have to wait.

What? How long?

He shrugged. Half an hour maybe.

She stared at him momentarily, lips tightening, then took a seat with her child on her lap. She knew she should be grateful to the barber; the owner of the shop was a friend of her father’s and gave her a generous discount.

Glad for the opportunity for rest, she removed her summer jacket and hung it over the back of an empty chair. As it turned out, she only had to wait fifteen minutes, and then it was Joseph’s turn. The child, still upset from his parents’ squabble earlier, whined and wriggled throughout the haircut. Diana got wearily to her feet, helped him from the chair, paid the barber and walked slowly from the shop while Joseph twisted in her hand, begging to be carried. They returned to the car and she opened the rear door to strap the struggling child into the baby seat held by the car’s safety harness.

With a rush of anxiety, she remembered her coat and debated momentarily the necessity of undoing the child’s seat and walking him back. He’ll be safe for a few seconds, she reasoned silently.

She set his truck in his lap, saying, Be right back, Sweetie, be a good boy for Mommy and stay put, and closed the door. She returned as quickly as she could to the barbershop, where she found one of the assistants standing at the door holding out her jacket.

* * *

Here we go, said Robbie as his wife pulled open the van’s side door.

In a few steps she reached the door of the blue sedan, opened it, undid the car’s safety harness and lifted out the frightened, crying child still strapped in his baby seat. It took less than fifteen seconds.

* * *

Sebastian had just entered the parking lot in the borrowed Jeep. He glanced around for a parking spot, then froze in surprise. He gasped at the sight of a hooded stranger at the back door of a familiar blue car, removing a screaming child in a baby car seat and stepping immediately into a black van that sped away.

As the car left the lot, forcing its way into the stream of passing traffic and picking up speed, Diana pulled on her jacket. She broke into a frantic run when she saw the open car door.

Screaming hysterically, she raced to the car door, stopped momentarily to search inside, then looked around to see a black van race out of the plaza. A crowd quickly formed as she cried, My baby! They took my baby! They took my baby!

She ran across the parking lot and into the street in front of honking cars. Traffic stopped in both directions, car doors were flung open and a cell phone materialized while someone tried to calm Diana.

On the other side of the center, Sebastian had rolled to a stop when he saw the commotion. A crowd was quickly gathering. He saw a woman in a pale blue jacket run from the crowd and into the street, and in that breathless moment he knew it was Diana, and that the child he had seen in the stranger’s arms was Joseph.

The Jeep stalled, still in high gear. He fumbled to restart the engine, crunched into first gear and, oblivious to parking and exiting traffic, he started to careen across the parking lot. The motor roared as the gas pedal was pressed tightly against the floor. The Jeep skidded to a halt on loose gravel at the edge of the road. Sebastian burst through the crowd yelling, Which way did they go?

People pointed.

It’s a black Volvo van, and I think I got part of the license number, someone volunteered. Black Volvo van.

Thank you, Sebastian yelled back, as he restarted the engine and, with horn beeping, pushed through the crowd. He swerved onto the road with the motor roaring to a scream before he moved to a higher gear. The black van was out of sight as he twisted the steering wheel in frustration, desperately forcing his way past one car at