Hey everyone. No I did not forget about this story. But unlike the family series it is not running through my head constantly. However I am pleased how this chapter turned out and I hope you like it. I hope to have another chapter out soon. Thank you for your patience.

Happy reading.

Present

"Why did you do this to us?" Laura cried as the bigger of the men tied her hands to the bedrail.

"I have my reasons." The second man replied as he lounged in a chair. "You'll find out soon enough."

"You left him there to die." She wailed as she tugged at her bonds. "Please you have to help him."

He laughed cruelly. "If I had any luck at all he would already be dead." His gaze shifted to the other man. "Leave her alone. She 's mine first and foremost. You'll get anything that's left over."

The bigger man grumbled as he stalked into the second room. His partner in crime shook his head as he watched him go. "You can't get good help nowadays." He complained as he picked lint off his suit.

"Like you're any better." She spat at him.

Eyeing her he picked up a short bullwhip from the table beside his chair. "I would be careful about how you treat me." He advised as he wrapped the whip around her calf, leaving a large red welt. "I'm in control here. I've already done away with your husband. Do you want me to start with the rest of your family?" He asked calmly.

"You leave them alone." She raged, tugging at her bonds until her wrists were slippery with blood.

"I do love it when they don't learn their lesson the first time." He smiled evilly as he swung the whip.

1985

Steve smiled as he hammered on the nail to the front stairway. He could feel the warm sun beating down on his shoulders, though every once in a while a cold breeze snaked up his back.

"You should have a sweatshirt on. Your mom will have both our heads if she comes home and catches you without one." He said looking over his shoulder at his son.

John shrugged his shoulder as he sat slumped on the bottom stair. Frowning in concern Steve laid down his hammer down and turned to face the little boy. "Are you sick?" He asked as he studied the forlorn figure.

John shook his head. "We have a ghost in the barn." He announced unhappily.

Steve cocked his head. "I thought you liked ghosts. Aren't they cool?" He asked.

John sneered. "They're okay, but this one keep stealing my toys. How can I practice catching the baseball if he keeps taking it?"

His father raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure you aren't making him up so you won't get in trouble for losing the ball?"

"Dad, he's real. I've seen him. He's a boy just like me." He looked up suddenly. "Do ghosts have to go to school?"

"What does he look like?" Steve asked in growing concern.

John shrugged. "I don't know. He's got my soccer ball too. Can you make him give it back?"

"Have you asked him to give it back?" His father asked as he gazed in the direction of the barn.

"Yea, but he only talks to the horses." He looked quickly up at his father. "But I share my stuff with him. I even take him food, cause he looks really hungry."

"Does he eat the food?" Steve asked as he stood up. He held out his hand for his son before walking in the direction of the large structure.

"He always waits until I leave. But sometimes I hide and watch him." The little boy confided.

Steve nodded as they came to the door of the barn. "Where does he usually stay?" He asked softly.

"With Sasha."

"Sasha?" The older man asked confused.

"The white horse with the brown legs. He talks to her the most." John answered as he jumped around. "Are you going to make him give me back my baseball?"

"If he has it I will." He murmured. He turned to look down at his son. "Stay here."

As quiet as he could he walked into the barn. Letting his eyes adjust he looked down the aisle for the white horse.

"Sasha's down this way." A voice whispered behind him causing him to jump. He turned to frown down at his son.

"I told you to wait outside." He admonished.

John shrugged as he led the way toward the stall. "He knows me." He paused to peer been the slates of the door. "He's in there. He looks really scared. Do ghosts get scared?'

Steve moved forward quickly to peer over the top of the door. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of the young boy curled up in the corner. He started to open the stall door but was stopped by a small hand on his leg.

"You can't go in there. Sasha doesn't know you. She'll get mad and kick him." John instructed him.

Steve smiled slightly. "Your mom will be interested to know that you do listen to her." He bit his lip as he thought about the situation. "Run down to the office and see if anyone's there."

John was already shaking his head. "They all went out to the back forty today. Remember, mom said she wouldn't be back for dinner. They're going have a picnic and they wouldn't let me go." He sulked.

"Well it's a good thing you didn't go. I need your help." He smiled when the little boy perked up. "I'm going to lead Sasha out, but I need you to close the door so the ghost doesn't get out. And don't go in there with him." He added sternly.

Grapping a lead rope he hooked it on to the horse's halter, cooing soft words to keep her calm. Nodding to John he led her out the open doorway, wincing when the door slammed shut.

"If he wasn't scared before, he is now." He muttered under his breath. Tying the horse off in the aisle he approached the stall, relieved to find his son on the outside.

Cracking open the door he slithered inside, being careful to move slowly. He could feel the young boy watching him with fear filled eyes. Returning the gaze he surveyed the child in front of him. There were bruises down the front of his legs, one that looked suspiciously like a boot print. His feet were bare and covered in flecks of dried blood. The same blood was smeared across his face, coming from either his nose or the cut above his eye; Steve was unable to tell which.

"It's okay." He said softly as he moved in closer. "We won't hurt you." He inched forward some more, stopping when the child cringed in fear.

"Dad does he have my baseball?" John asked as he tried to peer through the slates on the door.

"John I need you to be quiet." Steve called out. "That's my son. You've seen him around here before. I don't hurt him and I'm not going to hurt you." He continued softly.

He slowly reached out as the boy's whimpers increased. "We can go into the house and get warmed up."

"We have hot chocolate. It's really good." John called out, trying to help.

Steve resisted the urge to turn around and yell at his son. He concentrated on drawing the small figure towards him as his hand gently encircled his wrist. His grip tightened involuntarily as the boy started screaming in pain, thrashing to get away. Steve could feel the small bones grind against each other.

Realizing the wrist was broken he released his grip and backed away, staring in horror at the figure curled up in a ball of pain. Closing his eyes he slipped out of the stall.

"What happened?" John asked, curious about the screaming.

"He's not ready to go inside just yet." He said rubbing his hands over his face. He looked down at his son. "Can you make that hot chocolate you were talking about? On your own?"

John nodded. "I have to use a chair to reach it. I put it in the microwave."

Steve nodded absently. "Why don't you go make him a cup? I'm sure it will make him feel better."

"Is he scared?" John asked instead. "You need to put Sasha back in. It'll make him feel better."

"Go please." Steve said giving him a little push toward the door. Walking in the opposite direction he headed to the tack room to find a blanket. Grabbing the warmest one he hurried back to the stall, seizing the portable phone from the office on the way.

Careful not to touch the whimpering child he covered him with the blanket before stepping out and dialing his wife's cell phone.

"I need you to come home." He said as soon as she answered.

"What's wrong? Is John okay?" She asked, worried by the tone of his voice.

"He's fine. But we have a problem and I'm a little out of my element here."

"Do I need to come right away?" She asked as she looked around. "We're in the middle of clearing this field."

Steve looked over the stall door at the shivering child. "Yeah, I think you need to come now."

A half hour later

Steve raised his head from the stall door as he heard the jeep pull up. He could hear John yelling in his excitement to get everything told. Glancing at the wounded child he was pleased to see that cup was lying on its side empty.

"What in the world is going on?" Laura asked as she walked into the barn.

Steve raised a finger to his lips to caution her to lower her voice then pointed over the stall door. Her eyes widened at the sight in front of her.

"Oh the sweet baby." She cooed as she slipped inside. Singing in a soft voice as if calming a horse she gathered him into her arms, being careful where she placed her hands.

"Now why wouldn't he let me do that?" Steve whispered.

"Most likely it was a man that did this to him." She answered, weaving the words into the song.

The hospital

Steve sat in the waiting room talking to the responding officer. "No, my wife's in the room with him. He wouldn't let go of her."

The officer nodded. "We're familiar with him. Names Brent London. Four years old and been in the hospital practically the entire time. Father's a real bastard, always kicking the boy around.

"Why hasn't someone done something about it before now?" Steve asked outraged.

The officer shrugged. "He always seems to slip through the system."

Steve sighed in disgust. "Some system." He muttered. Raising his voice he asked. "How do you think he ended up in my barn?"

"Last I heard old man London was living in the small shack on the edge of your property. Boy probably wondered down from there." He made a few notes on his pad. "Okay that will about do it for me." He said standing up.

"What will happen to him now?" Steve asked as Laura came through the doors.

"Probably what happens every time? CFS won't take him because he has to be sedated. Nurses can't watch him every minute. Old man London wanders in and carries him out."

The officer explained as he walked out.

"They're just going to let that happen?" Laura asked, her eyes widening in revulsion.

Steve nodded as he related what the officer had told him. "We're not going to let that happen." He assured her. He leaned in to kiss her. "Go stay with your newest son. I have something I need to take care of."

One hour later Steve stood outside the small shack. He gazed at the structure for a minute before he kicked open the door and took a cautious step inside. Finding the room empty he took the time to survey the contents.

One bed with a filthy mattress and one measly blanket. Spotting a pile of hay in the corner Steve growled in disgust. "I bet that's where he made the boy sleep." He muttered. He shifted through the hay until his fingers touched the edge of a picture frame. Pulling the small object out he gazed down at the picture of a young women. "Bet you're his mother."

He searched the rest of the small room finding nothing else of consequence. Outside he grabbed the gas cans he had brought, throwing the contents on the building. "You will never use my property to abuse someone." He shouted as he tossed the lighted match.