LUCKY CABALLERO

Copyright © Lucky Caballero 2025

Excerpt from FIRST HOURS

Psychological Crime Thriller

This excerpt is from a forthcoming book, FIRST HOURS, a crime thriller novel by Lucky Caballero. This excerpt has been set for this edition and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

Prologue

She knew that nothing would ever be the same again, not after today.  She screwed up her eyes against the pain.  Fear wasn’t something she was familiar with. Now the fear hung over her like a raging angry thing, ripping and tearing through her world, bringing a once strong woman to her knees.

One moment he was there, laughing and smiling as he bounced excitedly along beside her. His cherub-like face looked up at her as excitement danced in his sky-blue eyes before dashing off across the playground to the swings.

The playground was full of squealing, laughing children and their parents. She turned her head, glancing at the stranger, a woman, as she spoke a polite greeting before sitting down next to her on the worn wooden park bench.

Rachel smiled, turned her head to watch him swing all by himself.

Kyle wasn’t on the swings. Her eyes swept the playground, at first confused, then frantically. Her heart was simultaneously leaping into her constricted throat and hitting the pit of her stomach in a sickening silent thud that reverberated throughout her body.

She ran. Screaming. The other parents looked at her as if she were crazy. She was. Kyle was gone.

Her head was throbbing. Her heart was convulsing in terror, hammering so loudly in her ears it was impossible for her to hear as other parents rushed to her, quick to realize her child had disappeared in front of their very eyes.

A man grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the bench as several women gathered around her. She pulled her arm free, feeling trapped and helpless. She couldn’t see, but she knew the other parents were searching for Kyle. 

It had begun to rain softly, and she ignored the light trickling of water as it ran down her neck, soaking her slate blue cotton sweater.

Panic overrode her senses. Disbelief. Self-blame curled through her. She should never have taken her eyes off her little boy.

While most were scouring the small playground and surrounding area, the police had arrived, and a thirty-something woman approached her. “Ms. Anderson? I am Detective Lou Evans.” She held her hand out to Rachel. Rachel shook it numbly before dropping her own back into her lap. The Detective’s wide green eyes studied her own, concern and pity reflecting within their depths.

She makes out a few words the policewoman in front of her is saying. Rachel numbly watches the woman’s lips as they moved; the voice echoed as if coming from somewhere far away. 

Something about Kyle; running away; did she know where his father was, and she looks down at her hands twisting his worn red woolen sweater in her lap. The roaring in her head grew louder, drowning out the droning voices around her. Where was Kyle? Oh, please, God.

1

Detective Nick Stevens stood next to the worn, cluttered black metal desk and contemplated  the striking redheaded woman sitting frigidly in the spare office chair. She appeared close to forty, her beautiful face worn and exhausted. She was somewhat fragile, intelligent in expression with wide steel-gray eyes and a long smooth single braid falling down her back. There was a quiet dignity about her that reminded him of his wife.

Thick black lashes framed those compelling eyes that were filled with fear and pain. Purple faintly smudged the delicate ivory skin beneath them. Her face was contorted in guilt, strained in exhaustion. It had been five hours since Kyle Anderson had been abducted.

‘I’m Detective  Nick Stevens. I’m so sorry to hear about your son.’ 

She looked up at him, clutching Kyle’s jacket tightly in her hands. 

‘Kyle,’ she said, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. ‘His name is Kyle.’ 

He couldn’t find anything yet that pointed to Rachel’s involvement in her son’s abduction. Yet.

Nick picked up the enlarged photograph of the smiling five-year-old boy. An angelic face grinned up at him, deep dimples and laughing hazel eyes crowned by shoulder length coffee colored hair. 

Until now he had been sure Rachel Anderson had been faking her emotional break down, he had seen it well played before and refused to give the woman the benefit of the doubt, despite his partner’s gut feeling of innocence.

Lou was pretty much right on target with her hunches, so much so, that he found himself time and again relying on his partner’s instinct. 

“Mrs. Anderson…” he began as she cut him off vehemently.

“Don’t call me that! Ms. Anderson or just Rachel.” She spoke bitterly, looking up into his eyes, her own flashing angerly. 

He stepped back, visibly surprised at her emotional outburst. It reminded him of a mother bear suddenly awakening to find a human standing at her bedside. Rachel had suddenly ripped herself from her stupor and she was angry.

Rachel sat back, as a wave of crimson rose up her neck and flashed across her expressive face. “I’m sorry. I am no longer a “Mrs.” I detest the name, but...but I can’t change it, for my son’s sake.”

Nick nodded, wondering how much she detested the man who gave it to her. She smiled crookedly, forcing herself to release her grip on Kyle’s jacket and set it on the floor by her feet.  Nick could see how much self-control and sheer strength it took the woman to do such a simple act. It was as if it was her only connection to her missing son.

‘I understand you didn’t see the direction your son went after he reached the swings?’

‘It happened so quickly; he was waving at me. He wanted me to watch him swing all by himself… he was so proud…’ she said, the words faltering as her throat tightened. ‘He just wanted me to watch, and then … I only looked at the lady sitting down next to me on the bench for a second.’ She gripped the boy’s red sweater tighter in her hands, and Elden watched the color drain from her face. 

‘It happened so fast. He was laughing and smiling…so proud, then he was gone. Just gone.’

She answered the rest of his questions avoiding his steady gaze. Elden hated pushing her so hard, but it was his job, and he had no choice in the matter. ‘ Did you see anyone hanging around him?’

 ‘No. we had just arrived moments before,’ she said.

‘Were there any people talking to him?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’  her voice low and wooden. 

‘Okay,’ said Ray. Where on earth were they going to start?

She looked up at him now.

 ‘Can you find him? Whoever took Kyle? Will you find my baby?’ Her voice cracked and she broke into a wailing sob, and Lou felt a tightening in her solar plexus, as the tightness gripped her throat.

‘We’ll do everything we can,’ she said, knowing that it could never be enough. 

Rachel nodded and took a deep, juddering breath.

“Go home and try to rest, Mrs…Rachel. I or Lou will keep you personally updated. The FBI will be running the investigation, as they handle all child abductions . They should be here by morning. Officer Motts is awaiting to give you a ride.” Nick waved a hand towards a slender young officer across the room as Rachel rose to her feet, pulling Kyle’s jacket with her. The door to his office opened and he hastily stood up, turning to look at Rachel as she sucked in a deep breath. Lou entered the room with a couple following close behind. The tall, thin greying man leveled accusing hazel eyes at Rachel, glittering behind the metal framed glasses. His resemblance to a young Tom Sellick was uncanny. The well-trimmed mustache failed to hide his displeasure as his mouth turned down in his weathered face before turning his head towards Nick. The woman beside him slid hard eyes over Rachel, a subtle callousness reflected in the taunting satisfied sneer that lifted the corner of her thin, cruel lip. Lou watched the exchange, her eyes on the woman. Rachel looked trapped as she moved towards the door. The other woman stepped purposely to block the exit, her blue eyes filling with hate. A moment later it was gone, replaced with a concerned smile as she patted Rachel’s arm. “Poor dear. We will get through this, okay?” she whispered loudly as she moved out of the doorway. Lou ushered Rachel out as Officer Motts took her arm and led her outside.

Nick looked at Lou with raised brows of his own and wondered what that little scene was about.

“Nick, this is Frank Anderson, Kyle’s father, and his wife Phyllis. Detective Nick Spencer.” Lou introduced everyone. Frank took the hand Nick held out with affirm grip before releasing it. Phyllis hesitated a mere second before giving him the weakest handshake he had ever encountered. She appeared to be in her mid-fifties, an odd, shaped body, of skinny arms and legs with a protruding gut that made her upper body appear egg shaped, and the large pooching stomach hung over her tight jeans, ill-concealed by the oversized sweater. She was a starkly plain woman, mousy blonde hair with grey and black roots caught up in a childish plastic clip, deep wrinkles around her mouth and eyes made obvious by the thick makeup two shades too light.

 The bright red lipstick gave a gaudy air to her crooked yellowed teeth. An air of bitter fury prevailed around her as Phyllis sat primly, sullen, her mouth pursed and bitter. Her cruel blue eyes were unattractively deep-set and shone with a spiteful gleam as they flickered over the room, barely touching Kyle’s photograph pinned to the wall behind Nick. Everything about this woman’s appearance screamed controlling, a very sullen unhappy looking woman . She was in control of the man with her and wanted people to know it. She had power over Frank and had long ago embraced that fact.

Phyllis stood in sharp contrast to her husband’s apparent timidness, fearful and helpless demeanor. Though invisible, the apron strings were powerful and securely tied.

On second look, Lou thought that he looked like the type of person to stare at his own reflection every time he happened upon a reflective surface, indifference to anything except his physical appearance. 

Frank Anderson sat hunched over, his tall, slender frame curling in on itself. His silvered dark hair combed precise; his grey moustache trimmed to perfection.  He continued to cast sideways glances at his wife, almost as if he were afraid to speak without her consent. Genuine fear and helplessness radiated off of the man in waves.

Nick felt pity for him- he knew what it was like living with a ball buster.

Nick shared a glance with Lou, both agreeing without a word.

Nick handed Frank a cup of sweetened black coffee and perched on the edge of his massive desk, facing the couple.

“When is the last time you saw your son, Mr. Anderson?” Nick asked, watching him closely. Frank shot a look at his wife before looking down at his feet.

“We haven’t seen him today.” Phyllis said, reaching a hand to pat her husband’s knee.

Nick held up a silencing hand, his hard eyes meeting hers. 

“I am speaking to Kyle’s father. He is the one I want to hear from right now.” His tone booking no argument. Phyllis stiffened in her chair, her eyes burning. 

“Well, I never! I’m Kyle’s mother!”

Nick stared down at her, his lips twitching. “Stepmother. Kyle’s mother, Rachel just left.”

Lou stepped forward, handing the woman a paper cup half full of coffee. “Please sit down and don’t interrupt, ma’am.” Lou warned her, ‘or you will have to wait outside.” Lou moved to stand beside her as Nick resumed his questioning.

‘Frank, when was the last time you saw your son?’ Nick repeated.

Frank slid a quick look at his wife before taking a long sip of coffee. ‘Yesterday. Rachel dropped him off in the morning and we took him home around six.’

‘How is your relationship with your ex-wife?’ Lou spoke up.

‘Huh? My ex-wife?’ Frank looked blank for a moment, turning to face his wife.

‘Frank doesn’t have a relationship with that woman! She …’ Phyllis burst out, fury evident in her voice. Lou exhaled sharply, motioning for the woman to get up.

‘Follow me, Mrs. Anderson.’ Lou opened the door to the inter office.

‘Why? My husband needs me right now. No, I won’t leave him.”

“You will, and you will do so now, Mrs. Anderson. Unless of course you wish to spend tonight in a cozy cell.’ Lou warned her, quickly tiring of the woman’s relentless power struggle.

Phyllis pursed her thin red lips into an angry line and followed Lou into the next room, sitting herself down forcibly into her chair. Lou shook her head in exasperation and flipped open her notepad as she took the seat across the metal table from her.

‘How is your relationship with Kyle? Do you two get along…?’

‘Of course we do. He’s my son.  We get along great.’ Phyllis rolled her eyes.

‘What is your relationship with Rachel?’

Phyllis snorted indelicately. ‘I don’t have a relationship with that whore. Neither does Frank.’