Stolen Lives : The Lives Trilogy Book 1 Read Online Free PDF

were alive.  The boy seemed skinny and lanky, yet showed the strength and agility of a basketball player.  Skin the color of copper, darkened by the Arizona sun, with dark eyes and long black hair, neatly kept.
    Pete scratched his head and motioned for the boy to come nearer.  Still wearing his moccasins, the boy stepped lightly to Pete’s side.
    “Walk me through all this.”
    George nodded and pointed at the tire tracks.
    “This is where they parked.  You can tell by the depth of the track, compared to those over there.”
    Pete walked backward looking at the track, tilting his head at an angle to get a better look.  George knelt down and pointed at the ground.
    “I think this is blood.  If it is, then they hurt him in the van,” George said.  “It could be that they pulled him from the van and his head hit an edge before hitting the ground.”
    Pete glanced at the boy and then frowned.
    “When you look at the body, you’ll see sand on his back.  There’s no other way that would have happened.”
    “You didn’t see him fall?”  Pete asked.
    George shook his head, pointed and continued. 
    “Here is where the guy wearing the baseball cap stood.”
    Pete glanced at the report and said, “It says here that you didn’t get a good look at him, but you described him as medium height with longish dark hair.”  He looked up at the boy and said, “How can you be sure?”
    George shrugged, slipped his fingers into the back pockets of his jeans and answered, “I saw enough of him to be able to say that.”  George squinted at the man and added, “I judged his height by the van.”
    Pete nodded and fanned himself with the report.
    They stared at each other and then George said, “These are the boy’s footprints.  The sand was hot and he was kind of hopping.”
    “And these?”  Pete asked, indicating what looked like tennis shoe prints.
    “The tall man with the beard.”
    “How can you tell?”
    “Longer distance between steps and not as deep, compared to those,” gesturing to the boot marks.  “Those are deeper and closer together.  Those belong to the fat man.”
    Pete nodded, smiling at George.  The boy smiled shyly, knowing the older man had been testing him.
    “The skinny man led, then came the boy, and then the fat man.”
    George walked lightly, but quickly up the road and pointed at the stake marking the cigarette butt.
    “You said he smoked Marlboro.  How did you know?”
    “I thought I saw the red and white pack, but it wasn’t until I saw this that I knew for sure.”
    “You touched it?” Pete asked.
    “I used a blade of grass to roll it over,” George answered.
    Pete grunted.
    “The fat man walks heal to toe . . . heavy.  The skinny man walks on the front of his feet, like Cal Ripken.”
    “Like Cal Ripken?”
    “Yes,” George answered simply.
    “Like Ripken,” Pete said shaking his head. 
    Summer stood to one side, hands on her hips watching the photographer snap pictures.  Pete motioned to her and she joined him and the boy.
    “Any ID on the vic yet?” Pete asked.
    Summer sighed, brushed some hair off her forehead and glanced back at the dead boy.
    “We sent a photo to the Center and a preliminary ID came back.”
    The team worked closely with the Center for Missing and Exploited Children.  The Center identified each of the boys they had found.  Pete looked at her closely.
    “There are so many of them,” she said, glancing back at the boy and then turning away.  “I wonder when it’ll end.”
    “It’ll end when we put these guys behind bars.”
    “Do you remember the Hart kid from Cincinnati?”
    Pete frowned trying to remember specifics, but with so many missing kids, he didn’t really know one from another. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, he just couldn’t remember.  Besides, Summer had always been better at that part of it.
    “Paperboy, taken on a Sunday morning, they found his bike, the papers and one of his shoes.”
    Pete nodded, not