PROLOGUE
Bradley Cole smoothed the doll’s silky, blond hair with a hand that wasn’t quite steady. He loved the fair ones. They were his favorites. They were the ones he tucked in beside him in bed at night. The ones that kept him safe.
Sometimes.
He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the hard, plastic forehead.
The door to his bedroom flew open and slammed against the wall. He cringed at the look on his mother’s face. With surreptitious movements, he pushed the doll further under the bedclothes and prayed she wouldn’t notice.
“What have you got there, you disgusting little boy? Don’t tell me you have one of those filthy dolls in your bed. How many times have I told you boys don’t play with dolls? Bradley Cole, you are a naughty, naughty boy.”
She stumbled closer, close enough so that he could see the redness that rimmed her eyes. He almost gagged on the stench of alcohol and stale body odor.
Her cheap cotton nightdress flapped around her large frame. She collapsed onto the side of his bed and the steel frame groaned in protest. She reached out and tore off the bedclothes, exposing him to her sharp-eyed gaze.
“What have we here?” she crooned. Her gaze landed on the collection of dolls beside him. Her eyes went wild with excitement.
Terror liquefied his limbs. His stomach clenched.
“Well, well, well. You have been a naughty boy.” Her fist caught him plumb on the cheek. He gasped from the pain. Tears burned his eyes.
“And now we have tears from the sissy boy. A ten-year-old who plays with dolls and cries like a girl. What am I going to do with you?”
She tut-tutted and then hauled herself to her feet. When she turned back to face him, her expression was as icy as her voice.
“Down to the basement. Now.”
Bradley froze. He thought fleetingly of making a dash for the phone that sat amidst the clutter on the hall table and then remembered the other times—lots of other times—when he’d dialed the police only to be told not to waste their time and if he made a nuisance of himself again, there’d be consequences.
“I said, get up.”
She loomed over him. Her fetid breath turned his stomach. Her fist poised for another strike and his fear ratcheted up another notch. Moments later, his bladder gave way.
“You stinking little boy. You’re going to pay for that. Do you think I have nothing better to do than to wash your stinking sheets?”
With vicious fingers, she dug into his shoulder and hauled him from the bed. He blinked away the pain, knowing it was nothing to what he’d be forced to endure in the basement.
“Now, get down there like I told you and make it quick. Real quick.”