The Stolen Breath Read online

  THE STOLEN BREATH

  By L.G. Davis

  The Stolen Breath

  L.G. Davis

  Copyright © 2020

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book 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 or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Cover design: The Cover Collection

  Editing: Emily Einolander and Michelle Storrusten

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  The Stolen Breath

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  Other Books by L.G. Davis

  Connect with L.G. Davis:

  Charlie Chisholm, this book is for you.

  I appreciate all the support you have given me over the years.

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  The happiest day of her life was also the worst.

  Almost a year ago, Delia Caswell’s husband died suddenly. That same night, she gave birth to a baby girl.

  Grieving her husband and battling postpartum depression, her life unravels one day at a time.

  But fate is not done with her yet...

  Just as she pulls herself together and learns to be a good mom to her daughter, she walks into the nursery to find her baby gone, snatched from her crib in broad daylight.

  Her daughter's kidnapping sets in motion a chain of events that turn her world upside down all over again.

  Who took Lea Caswell?

  Is it the nanny from hell that Delia fired not long ago? Or is it someone more dangerous?

  A single note she finds in a stuffed toy sends her back to a past she tried hard to leave behind.

  In the frantic search for her child, old wounds are ripped open, dark secrets are unveiled, and Delia discovers the true meaning of betrayal, obsession, and danger.

  Will she find her child before she loses her sanity or her life?

  Chapter 1

  Well into my twenties, I suffered from excruciating period symptoms. That’s why I was of the impression that I’d be able to handle the pain of childbirth.

  Wrong.

  Warm water slides down my body as invisible hands reach into my belly. They wring my intestines until I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches.

  My hands tighten around my middle, and I fold forward to try and minimize the torture. But the pain only gets worse, tormenting my entire body.

  Tears drip from my eyes, washing down the drain with the soapy shower water and the liquid that gushed out of me only a few seconds ago.

  Another ball of pain rolls through me and crashes in the center of my stomach. This one brings me to my knees.

  My worst nightmare is about to come true.

  Some pregnant women dread having their water break in public places. I wouldn’t have minded that at all since there would be many people around to offer their assistance. Someone would call 911.

  Since the day I found out I was pregnant, I’ve been terrified of being trapped in a place where no one could reach me, like an elevator, and having to give birth alone.

  Now here I am, alone and terrified.

  It’s 10:00 p.m., and my husband, Andrew, has gone out to get me my favorite mint ice cream, minutes after I mentioned that I was craving it.

  I told him not to go, that I could wait till morning, but he insisted. Apparently, according to him, the mother of his child should have everything she needs, whenever she needs it. He kissed me on the forehead and left the house without bothering to change out of his pajamas.

  I inhale deeply and exhale slowly, rubbing my slick and swollen stomach with my palm.

  It’s fine. Everything will be all right.

  Barry’s Scoop is only a ten-minute drive from our house. He’ll be back soon to drive me to the hospital.

  If I could, I’d call for help myself, but I’m too weak and pain-ridden to even crawl out of the shower.

  The contractions start again, pain searing through my body.

  Gritting my teeth is no longer enough. I’m screaming now.

  I blame myself. I shouldn’t have told Andrew that I craved ice cream. Deep down, I knew he would go and get it for me.

  What if he doesn’t make it back in time? What if I end up having to give birth to my child on my own and something goes wrong?

  I almost cry with relief when the contractions subside, as though a switch has been flicked to give me a chance to breathe.

  I know it’s only a matter of time before the pain returns, so I crawl out of the shower and manage to make it to the bedroom, leaving a trail of liquid behind me.

  My phone is on my nightstand. My fingers tremble as I reach for it and dial Andrew’s number.

  He doesn’t pick up.

  I try again. Same result.

  I can feel it again, the pain warming my lower back—a silent warning that I should prepare myself for the next storm.

  The next person I call is Anita Stark. I’ve been in Sarton, North Carolina, for seven years now, and she is the only person I can call my friend. She also happens to be our neighbor.

  Anita doesn’t know much about the events that drove me from Oakney to Sarton and she never pushes me to speak about things that are uncomfortable for me. Even though she doesn’t know everything about me, our friendship works.

  She doesn’t pick up either. Maybe she’s already in bed.

  Before another cramp strikes, I dial 911.

  “Help me,” I croak when my call is answered. “I’m in labor.”

  The soft-spoken woman on the other end of the line tries to calm me down, asking me endless questions. The only answer I give her is my address. I don’t have enough strength in me to say more.

  I drop the phone to the floor and hug my cold, wet body tight as if this way I can prevent the pain from breaking me.

  The woman on the phone continues to speak, but her voice is faint.

  I know what she’s doing. She’s promising me that the paramedics will be here soon. She’s trying to comfort me.

  I’m beyond comforting at this point.

  Since Andrew is closer to the house, and it’s been at least half an hour since he left, I expect him to arrive before the paramedics.

  It doesn’t happen that way.

  When ambulance sirens break t
he silence, I’m relieved, but also terrified that my husband will not be able to experience the birth of our child. The way I feel, I’m not even sure I’ll make it to the hospital before the baby arrives.

  The doorbell rings downstairs, but I can’t move, not yet, not before the pain releases me from its clutches.

  Finally, I drag myself to my feet, grabbing a bathrobe on the way out the bedroom door. I don’t even know why I need to cover myself up. In a few minutes, strangers will see me naked.

  I make it down the stairs, one step at a time, one breath at a time, praying that the pain will not strike again before I reach the last step.

  My prayer is answered.

  I’m panting and sweating when I open the front door. That’s when another wave washes over me, worse than the one before. But this time, I fall into the arms of the paramedics.

  I’m safe. My baby is safe.

  They carry me into the ambulance, and a woman paramedic whispers that everything will be all right.

  I don’t believe her. I feel like I’m dying.

  I don’t even care anymore that Andrew is not here. I want it to be over. I want the baby to come so the pain can leave my body.

  After what feels like forever, we arrive at the Sacred Heart General Hospital, and I’m brought into a sterile room with bright lights.

  By the time I’m lowered onto a small bed, the pain has fled. If it weren’t for the traces it has left behind, it would feel as if nothing had happened.

  The nurse confirms that my water has broken and I’m in labor.

  “How long do you think it will be before the baby comes?” I ask in a shaky voice.

  “It’s different for every woman.” She gives me a warm, dimpled smile. “It shouldn’t be too long now.”

  “Could you... I need my phone.” I swallow hard. “My husband wants to be here.”

  “Of course, darlin’. Where’s your phone? I’ll get it for you.”

  “In my bathrobe.” As soon as I had arrived at the hospital, off came the bathrobe and on went the starched hospital gown.

  The nurse nods. “Give me a second.”

  She goes to a small wardrobe on one side of the room and opens it. When she reaches into the pocket of my bathrobe, I realize that I should have asked the paramedics to bring my hospital bag. It’s been packed for weeks now and is waiting in the entryway. I’ll have to tell Andrew to bring it.

  “Here you go, honey.” The nurse hands me the phone.

  “Thank you.” I release a stream of air through my teeth. My body is starting to feel warm again. The pain is coming back.

  While the nurse tries to make me as comfortable as possible on the bed, I call Andrew again.

  This time, the call goes straight to voicemail.

  Panic rushes through me. What if he doesn’t make it? There was nothing he wanted more than to see his daughter coming into the world. We have been dreaming of this day from the moment I told him I was pregnant.

  After trying a few more times, I realize that his phone might be off, which is odd because Andrew never turns his phone off; even when he’s in meetings at the Ivy Hotel & Restaurant, where we both work. He prefers to put it on silent instead. He’s also obsessed with making sure his phone is charged at all times.

  Something is wrong. I feel it as strongly as the pain swirling in my belly.

  “Are you all right?” the nurse asks, rushing to my bedside. “You look pale there.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I mean, yes. It’s just that I can’t reach my husband.”

  “Don’t worry about that, honey. I can keep calling him for you. Is there anyone else you can call?”

  I nod and call Anita again. If Andrew can’t be here, having Anita with me is the next best thing.

  Anita’s phone still goes unanswered.

  That’s it.

  There’s no time to worry about reaching Andrew or Anita anymore. I have a baby to bring into the world.

  The contractions are closer to each other now and more intense.

  Three hours after I arrive at the hospital, my beautiful baby is born. She has tiny hands, flushed cheeks, and big brown eyes that match Andrew’s. She also chose to have my curly honey-colored hair.

  Even though it’s one of the happiest days of my life, I’m crying because Andrew missed it. Moments like these can never be relived. But I still can’t wait to introduce him to our daughter.

  The first person to arrive in the morning is Anita. She apologizes for missing my calls.

  “I’m sorry, Delia, that I didn’t come sooner. I wasn’t feeling well, so I went to bed early. The phone was on silent.” Her eyes are damp as she kisses my forehead. “I only saw your calls when I got up to go to the bathroom.”

  “Hey, it’s fine. You’re here now.” I bite my lower lip. “Did you by any chance notice if Andrew was home? I can’t reach him.”

  “What do you mean? Is he not here?” She glances behind her as if she’s expecting Andrew to walk through the door.

  “No.” I grab her hand, my fingers tightening around hers. “Something is wrong. Before I went into labor, he drove to Barry’s Scoop for ice cream. He didn’t return home and I can’t reach him. I’m thinking of calling the police.”

  Anita places a hand on mine. It feels cool to the touch. “Maybe he decided to go someplace else. Maybe Barry’s was closed.”

  Even though she’s trying to prevent me from worrying, she sounds like she’s worried herself. I have known her long enough to recognize that her voice deepens slightly when she’s worried.

  “It’s been hours, Anita. Also, his phone is off. He never switches off his phone.”

  Anita is silent for a moment. She’s trying to think of the right thing to say, but I don’t know how she can convince me that Andrew is all right. “Look,” she says finally. “Why don’t you enjoy your baby. I’ll try and call him again.”

  She kisses the top of my baby’s head and walks out of the room, dialing and bringing her phone to her ear.

  When she returns to the room, her face is pale.

  I bring a hand to my mouth as fear unfurls inside me. Tears smother my words. “That’s it. I’m calling the police. Something’s wrong. I know it.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Anita drops into the chair next to the bed. “I think we should wait. I’m pretty sure he’ll show up.”

  “I’ve waited long enough. What if he doesn’t show up?”

  Anita doesn’t respond.

  An hour later, I get another visit, this time from the police. As soon as my eyes land on them, my body stiffens. Before they even say a word, I know what they have come to tell me.

  I knew all along that something was wrong.

  “We are so sorry, Mrs. Caswell,” the officer says, avoiding my eyes. “Your husband is dead.”

  I shake my head violently, sending tears flying everywhere.

  Never in my wildest dreams did I think that my husband was dead, that I would be a widow at the age of thirty.

  Next to me, Anita is crying as well, and so is my baby girl. “How did it happen?” I’m glad she asked the question because the lump inside my throat is making it hard for me to speak.

  “He was hit by a car near Main Street, ma’am.”

  “Who did it?” My voice is a broken whisper.

  “We don’t know yet. The car that hit him fled the scene. We’ll do everything in our power to find the person responsible.” He keeps talking, but his words drift off into the distance as my mind disconnects from the horror of the moment.

  Chapter 2

  It has been a blurry couple of months since my husband died. I’m lying on the carpeted floor of Lea’s nursery, staring up at the ceiling while she squirms on my chest, screaming at the top of her little lungs.

  I can’t hold back my own tears. It’s been nine months since Andrew died and the person who ran him over has not been found. It’s hard to find relief from the pain when I know that the person who destroyed our lives is sti
ll out there, that justice has not been served.

  My baby will never get to know her daddy. Andrew had been so excited to meet his daughter. He built her polished oak crib from scratch with his own hands. He bought her first pair of socks.

  Many new moms suffer from postpartum depression. I’m one of them, but mine is so much worse.

  As soon as the funeral was over, I dove straight into mother mode. I never got a proper chance to grieve Andrew. Having a baby who has trouble sleeping makes everything more difficult.

  My depression comes hand in hand with the pain of loss, the kind that never goes away. They say time heals all wounds. I find that hard to believe.

  The day my baby was born was the most painful day of my life. I never thought my husband’s life would be exchanged for his little girl’s. How does one recover from such a blow? Why couldn’t I have them both?

  When Lea calms down for a moment, I hold my breath, praying that she will not start again. Some prayers go unanswered. This is one of them.

  When she starts to scream again, I lift myself off the floor and lower her into her crib. Then I turn around and press the heels of my hands on my eyes, my teeth gritted like the day I gave birth to her.

  I love my baby, but hearing her cry is making me feel like I’m drowning, and I’m not strong enough to come up for air.

  I whirl around and gaze at her. “What do you want mommy to do?” I ask, my voice breaking.

  It’s close to 1:00 a.m. and I have done everything possible to calm her down. I followed all the tips I found online and in books. Nothing helps. Lea never sleeps for longer than two hours at a time, and when she’s awake, she spends most of the time crying.

  Now she tightens her little fists and moves them around as if she’s boxing the air. Her eyes are shut and her pink mouth is round as scream after scream pours out of it.

  “Please, Lea...stop.” Tears burn my eyes like acid. “Mommy needs to sleep.”

  When I found out I was pregnant, I confessed to Andrew that I was afraid I might not be a good mom. He told me I would be perfect.

  He lied. I feel like the worst mother in the world.

  When I reach the end of my rope, I call Anita. She picks up on the fourth ring.

  “Are you okay?” Her voice is thick with sleep.