Book Title: The Vanishing of Owen Taylor
Author: Kyle Michel Sullivan
Publisher: KMSCB
Cover Artist: JamTheCat
Release Date: April 28, 2016
Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Murder Mystery/Suspense
Trope/s: Anti-gay conspiracy, intolerance, corrupt legal system
Themes: Cost of unconditional love
Warning: References to rape
Heat Rating: 3 out of 5
Length: 121 070 words/ 355 pages in PB; 274 in HC
Is it a standalone book? Somewhat. Jake Blaine is the MC in this book, and it’s a semi-followup to Rape in Holding Cell 6, a book I wrote with his lover, Antony, as the MC…but it’s not absolutely necessary you read that book to follow this one (tho’ it might help, at the beginning).
Book 1 – Rape in Holding Cell 6
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When his uncle disappears, Jake goes to Palm Springs to find out why only to get caught in a web of fear, hate, betrayal … and what looks more and more like murder … with Jake targeted as the next victim.
Blurb
Was it murder? Suicide? Or did Owen Taylor vanish to avoid prosecution for rape? Everyone had their own idea, but the only note he left behind was sent to his nephew, Jacob Blaine, in Denmark … which was crazy, because Owen knew Jake was currently living in the States.
Of course this happened at the worst possible time for Jake. He was helping his lover, Antony, fight bogus criminal charges; his estranged, anti-gay mother was battling cancer; his job in Copenhagen wanted him to return there — now; and worst of all … Antony was pushing him away. It was tearing him apart.
But Uncle Owen had backed him up through some rough times, so Jake made what he thought would be a short trip to Palm Springs, to see if he could find out what happened. He re-connected with Dion, his first true love, and then he discovered other men had also disappeared. On top of that, an organization called PSALMS was spreading hate and distrust of the gay community as part of their plan to turn back gay rights.
The more Jake dug into Owen’s disappearance, the more he found lies, deceit and treachery by members of the police force, people in the DA’s office, and even some of Owen’s friends. And behind it all was someone who would do everything they could to keep their true motives hidden.
Even have Jake vanish, as well.
“Jake, why do you stick with Tone?”
It was my stepmother, Mira, asking. though what she really said was, “Iacob, what is your loyalty with this man, Antony?” English being her third language, after Farsi and French, and me being the only one allowed to call my guy Tone.
We were at a sleek Persian restaurant in Paris, not far from De Gaulle. I was en route to Copenhagen for my job and was already worried about my connection being delayed thanks to a winter storm blowing in, so I was not in the mood for my father’s second wife to diss my guy. I loaded some duck fesenjan into my mouth to give me time to work up a polite answer.
“Do you remain beside him because others say you should not?” she continued. “Are you to be stubborn, in the way of your father?”
“Mira,” I snarled, still half-chewing, “I love Tone.”
“It is not love to remain with someone when it is to your own detriment; it is self-loathing.” Oh … typical psychologist; Here’s your box, little man, and aren’t you ashamed for being in it? I wouldn’t be surprised if she analyzed my half-brothers-and-sisters in the same way.
I swallowed, sipped my beer, took a breath and snarled, “Psycho-lady … q’est-çe que c’est?”
Tried to make it jokey; didn’t work. Her expression turned quizzical, like she was thinking, This lab rat used to be smart, so why’s he screwing up the maze leading to the cheese? “Has Antony told you all that he has done?”
She knew damn well he had. And yet … while I knew more about him than anybody, even I didn’t know it all.
I pushed my plate aside, leaned against the table, folded my hands, looked her straight in the eyes and asked, “This is why you had me change my travel plans? So you could diss my guy to my face?”
She hesitated then took a sip of her wine. Pinot noir with a lamb salad … there’s something wrong about that.
“I apologize,” she said. “I am too used to being … to being circumspect with my patients.”
“Circumspect?” Said in my Texas twangiest with my grin my goofiest. “An’ here I thought you was bein’ blunt.”
She looked straight at me. “Do you know that your mother has contacted your father?” And I got blunted right between the eyes. I kept my voice steady as I said, “So?”
“So … she has done this twice. That I know of.”
“Okay … again — so?”
“One telephone call refers to your uncle, Owen Taylor. As I understand what has happened, he is vanished, and she wishes to find him. She asks Faraz to use his influence to bring forth an investigation.”
My appetite dropped to zero, because this … was … bullshit. Uncle Owen was mom’s half- brother, and she did not give a single solitary damn about him. Why? Simple — he was gay, and she blamed him for me choosing to go that way and be of the devil, which she had actually screamed at me as she kicked me out of the house. Besides, my uncle wasn’t the kind to just disappear; my mother was. I can’t tell you the number of times I’d get dumped at my grandmother’s so she could run off to some hunting trip or seminar or church retreat, while we always knew where Uncle Owen was, even if he wasn’t in constant contact. But now she’s calling her hated ex-husband about her hated half-brother because she can’t find him? No way in hell.
“Mira, Uncle Owen’s in Palm Springs; my father’s based here. What kind of influence can he have?”
She gave me that maze-rat-screwed-up look, again. “He has investments in California. Some in partnership with your uncle.”
Which I did not know. “Which means he has his contact info. So what’d he find out?” She hesitated. “He has yet to locate him.”
Wait … my father, with all his resources, couldn’t track down my uncle? “So … so what’s this got to do with me?”
“Her most recent telephone call was to ask for your contact details. I find it interesting she did not already have them.”
“Why? She told me years ago, I’m not her son.”
“Words spoken only in shock … and anger … ”
“You really gonna excuse someone you never met?”
She sighed, nodded and sipped more wine.
I downed some beer, trying to sort my thoughts, then asked, “How’d you find out she called?” I asked.
That made her blink. “You do not think Faraz has told me?”
“I know my father and his secrets as well as you do.”
She had to smile at that. “Yes. Well … his assistant keeps nothing from his wife, and may Faraz never learn of this.”
More bullshit; dad had used his assistant to feed Mira this crap. What was he up to? And was she really dumb enough to fall for it? I doubted that.
“When did she call?”
“The last was two months ago, is my understanding.”
“I got no idea what to say,” I said, making myself finish my meal. “She hasn’t called me. All I’ve gotten from her and dad is ten years of Catholic and Islamic hate.”
“Iacob, if Faraz truly despised you, like this, he would not have allowed you back into his
family.”
“That was Tone’s doin’, not his. And you’re the one who kept me in. And you will never know how grateful I am … ”
Her face grew tender. “I would have it no other way.”
I gave her a soft smile back. “So what does Tone have to do with all this? Aside from the fact that both my parents hate his guts … and that, you cannot deny.”
Mira sighed, in response. “I merely wish to … understand why you remain in America when your future is in Europe.”
“Texas and her crappy brand of justice.”
“That is Antony’s legal situation. Yours is finalized.”
“What hits him, hits me.”
She all but rolled her eyes, then poked at her salad, as if to see if it’s alive. “Did you know he has … demanded his therapist share his notes with me?”
No … but my only response was an American shrug.
No fooling her. She almost smiled. “When you speak of those who love secrets, Iacob,
perhaps you should look to him. Now let me clarify my initial question. Even if you do love Antony, is it wise to remain with him? Is it not true he faces still the possibility of a prison sentence?”
“Who told you that?”
“That is unimportant. What is of importance is your future. And to remain with a man who may be jailed — ”
Kyle Michel Sullivan is a writer and self-involved artist out to change the world until it changes him…as has already happened in far too many ways.
He has written books that range from sunshine and light (“David Martin”) to cold and dark (“How To Rape A Straight Guy”, which has been banned a couple of times) to flat out crazy (“The Lyons’ Den”) to mainstream (“The Alice ’65”). He has now ventured into SF-Horror-Suspense with “The Beast in the Nothing Room” and taken Capitalism to its logical extreme in “Hunter”.
He is currently working to complete “A Place of Safety”, his Irish novel; “Darian’s Point”, a gothic horror story set in Ireland; and “Dair’s Window”, about an artist trying to rebuild his world after the death of his lover.
Kyle uses Tolstoy as his guide, and is trying to build characters as vivid and real as possible. He has a lot of fun doing it mixed with angst, anger, and amazement… but that’s the lot of a writer.
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