The Exchange: A Gripping Psychological Thriller with an Incredible Twist Read online

  THE EXCHANGE: A NOVEL

  NADIJA MUJAGIC

  Copyright © 2023 by Nadija Mujagic

  All rights reserved.

  First Edition

  Pioneer Publishing, LLC

  Somerville, MA

  ISBN 978-1-7370047-4-5

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance of actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Thank you!

  About the Author

  Also by Nadija Mujagic

  CHAPTER ONE

  NOW

  I drive Jake to the community pool a few blocks away from our house. It’s a hot day, and it’s the only place I can come up with. Gallup doesn’t have many community pools or lakes or ponds to cool off in, especially ones that are suitable for a four-year-old. The heat is oppressive, and the grass looks yellow and unredeemable. A perfect day for a swim and splash. When we arrive, the pool is packed and it looks like everyone is elbow-to-elbow. At least the chairs are still available for rental, so I count myself lucky. I pay for my chair, and Jake runs to the pool and jumps in.

  I lie down on my rented chair and put my straw hat on. The sun’s rays burn my skin but I enjoy it even though I suspect I will pay for it in blisters later. I keep my eyes trained in Jake’s direction. He’s a fast swimmer, and so it feels like I have to watch all the pool at once. The children scream in their playfulness, and I can feel my eyelids growing heavy. Minutes pass, but I don’t have a clue how many. Children keep screaming and I jump as I open my eyes, cringing at their high-pitch voices. How had I allowed myself to close my eyes?

  Jake’s voice, if he is screaming, is subdued by the others.

  Jake.

  Where is he? I should check in on him. I look after him often to prove to myself I am a decent mother.

  I remove my hat and sit up. I scan around the pool for Jake, but he’s nowhere to be found. At one point, all the children resemble each other with wet hair glued to their skulls, and spotting him is impossible. I stand up and walk to the pool to get a better vantage point. I move closer to the edge, looking for Jake, but I don’t see him.

  This is not like Jake—even though he’s only four, he’s mature beyond his age, and he’d do nothing stupid. I feel lucky that he always obeys me and never questions me. He’s an easy and amendable child.

  After I’ve inspected the entire pool, my throat closes, and everything starts to spin. I’m feeling dizzy and feeling my eyes rolling in the sockets. I’m doing my best to say something, make a move, but I stare at one spot and stand in one place. Where is he?

  “Jake!” My voice travels along the pool, muffled by the children’s yelps. “Jake!” I scream a little harder and feel the weight of all those eyes staring at me.

  “Jake! Jake, where are you?”

  The lifeguard jumps from the watching platform and runs up to me. “Ma’am, you’re looking for someone?”

  “Yes. I’m looking for my son, Jake. I can’t find him.” I extend my arms toward the pool as if I am about to dive in. “Please. Please find him.” I’m on the edge of sobbing, but I try to keep my cool.

  The lifeguard walks up to a megaphone and places it on his lips. “Jake! Jake, come out of the pool right now!” The children pause for a second and stare in the lifeguard’s direction, but none even flinch. Then the commotion continues as if nothing is going on. “Will Jake come out of the pool now? Jake, please come out of the pool.” The voice is loud and clear. But no Jake shows up.

  I am picturing Jake lying on the bottom of the pool lifeless, staring at the sky with his big blue eyes. Feeling nauseas, I’m stumbling around the edge of the pool. I’m choking. With both hands on my mouth, I am shocked and alarmed, and I don’t understand where Jake can be. I yell out his name twice for good measure, but my voice sounds shaky.

  “Everybody, come out of the pool. Right now!” The lifeguard’s voice through the megaphone dominates the block. I didn’t mean to cause all this commotion, but the situation is dire. “Come out of the pool right now!”

  The children line up and then inch toward the exit, some stumbling as they attempt to move faster than their legs can carry them. I stand there and watch them pushing each other and exchanging mean looks, angry about the interruption of their play.

  Several minutes pass until the pool is empty. Some people gather their kids and leave while others stand by the pool wondering what’s happening and waiting to see what will transpire in the next few minutes.

  A large man in swimming trunks comes out of the building next to the pool and calls for the lifeguard to jump in. “Scott, look for him inside.”

  Scott jumps in the pool and swims at the bottom. Both men search for Jake, one inside the pool and the other above, but I hear no reassuring words. No “here he is,” or “found him.”.

  The lifeguard resurfaces from the bottom of the pool a few minutes later and announces, “I see nothing. I searched the entire pool.”

  I can’t move. Reality is setting in. Jake is lost. Or kidnapped. Or had he ran away? No, no. He couldn’t have run away. He is a good boy and he would never do such a thing. Good and obedient. A mama’s boy. A little angel. How can I lose him like this? I haven’t been the best mother, I admit, but the thought of a missing Jake overwhelms me.

  The large man approaches me. “Ma’am, we did our due diligence to find your son, but he doesn’t appear to be here. I’m sorry.” I notice gloom in his eyes. “Are you sure he was in the pool last?”

  “Yes, yes, he was in the pool last.” I say. Tears are filling my eyes. I cannot stop them.

  “Is it possible he came out of the pool and left?”

  “It’s possible, but that’s not Jake-like. He would come right to me if he was tired of swimming.” I look around, expecting to see Jake any second.

  “I’m very sorry, but there’s nothing more we can do. If you’re certain that he’s missing, call the police.” He places his hand on my shoulder. I feel its weight. “Do you want us to call the cops for you?”

  The pool looks empty and as smooth as glass. The floor of the pool can now be seen, covered in blue tiles. It is as crystal clear as the fact that Jake is nowhere to be found.

  I stand motionless and let the sun blind my eyes from the reflection of the pool.

  “No, no. I’ll call.” In my mind, I choose to drive to the police station instead. I don’t trust phones.

  My head is spinning. I clench my fists. Jake’s voice is echoing in my ears, “Mommy, I’m here. Come get me.”

  But when the large man taps me on the shoulder to tell me the pool is closing for the day and I need to leave, I realize Jake’s voice is just a delusion.

  Only one thought crosses my mind. Corey. It must be Corey who kidnapped Jake.

  CHAPTER TWO

  FOUR YEARS EARLIER

  “I can’t believe you’re leaving. And tomorrow, no less.” My friend Michelle said with a sad expression on her face. She swirled her long hair with a left pinky while holding a cup in her other hand and sipping her soda through a straw. We were sitting in our favorite diner in Gallup. It was a Tuesday morning, and neither one of us had anything better to do. We’d both graduated from high school the year prior and skipped college like most people o
ur age did in our small town.

  I shrugged. “Well, doesn’t hurt to try. Plus, I’m meeting with an agent the day after I arrive.”

  “You’re not scared?”

  “Scared of what?” I pitched my voice high.

  “Aren’t there, like, many homeless in L.A.?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “Isn’t there a high crime rate where all homeless people are?”

  I waved my hand at her. “Oh, shush. It’s not like I’m gonna hang out with them, you know.”

  “That’s not the point, Sam. You don’t know the city well. It can eat you alive.”

  “Shell.” She hated it when I called her Shell. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She smirked and took another sip of her soda. She slammed the glass against the table—and then crunched up her nose. “Have you ever been?”

  “No.” I said, expecting another wave of barrage.

  “Honestly, Sam, sounds like you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m not afraid.” I said.

  She widened her eyes and leaned on the chair cushion behind her.

  “That’s good!” She looked out the window, squinting her eyes.

  I sensed nostalgia in them, a longing for a change, perhaps. The town we grew up in was a vacuum—it sucked the life out of people.

  I’d known Michelle for so long that I no longer remembered where or when we met. Over the years, she’d become my one and only genuine friend. Unassuming, shy, emphatic, Michelle was what I looked for in a person. We spent a crazy amount of time together when growing up. I could never admit to my mother that Michelle was the only person I trusted and loved. Even if I tried, I couldn’t twist this truth. Both being only children in our nuclear families, Michelle and I bonded like sisters.

  She turned around and, with high enthusiasm, continued, “Wouldn’t it be cool to meet Brad Pitt or Matt Damon and hang out with them?”

  I laughed. “Yes. Yes, it would.”

  She swirled the straw around the glass. “I’m proud of you, Sam. I wouldn’t have guts to leave the town.”

  “Will you come visit me?” I wanted to change the tone of our conversation. So far, it sounded too negative for my liking.

  “Are you kiddin’ me? Of course, I’m coming to visit you. Just say when.” I doubted her parents would let her.

  “Cool.”

  “Did you find a place to live, or are you just going to wing it when you get there?”

  “I found an apartment on Craigslist. It was easier than I thought.”

  “Great.” I could sense envy on her smile as her lips danced in a funny way. I knew Michelle well. Like the fact that she often got depressed and wished to uproot her life and go elsewhere to find happiness. She hid her feelings well from the others, but not from me. “Sounds like you’re on your way.”

  “I can’t wait.” I said. It was true. I couldn’t wait to get out of here. I had dreams to pursue that I couldn’t even fathom pursuing in this town.

  “You’ll do great. You’re a talented actress. Can you do a Phoebe for me?” Michelle loved the show Friends.

  Impersonation was my forte. I transformed into Phoebe and spoke the lines from one episode, singing the smelly cat song the character was so famous for, sending Michelle into a hysterical laugh.

  “Oh, my goodness, that is so good!” She wiped tears from her eyes. Once we’d caught our breath after laughing, she said, “I’m going to miss you. What’s your mom saying about you leaving?”

  “Nothin’,” I said.

  “Really? Nothing? I’d imagine she’d be a nervous wreck. I mean, all she does is talk about you, whether she’s alone or with you. You’re her world.”

  “I know. She’ll manage,” I said.

  “I guess. It’s not like, you’re five million miles away,” she added a nervous laugh. “You can always come back home.”

  I nodded, though I couldn’t have disagreed more. I’d rather eat broken glass for lunch every day than return to this shithole. Michelle kept smiling, but her eyes gave away sadness. When we were in high school, she had bouts of depression and wouldn’t leave the house for days. While my mother let me wander around the town as I wished, her parents controlled her every step. One time, when she got a C on an essay, her parents grounded her for two weeks. They hired a private tutor and made her write two essays a day until she perfected them. Michelle tried to convince me they did this for her own good, but I knew otherwise. Her parents were sadistic, ego-driven assholes I wanted to smack every time I saw them. But I played nice.

  Silence ensued, and we both got lost in our own thoughts for a few seconds. The smell of the eggs and sausage was wafting through the diner. The customers were arriving, as the lunch hour ushered them inside to find food.

  Michelle stared at the people as they walked by our table. Gossiping was common in our town—it kept us all alive and entertained. She turned to me and said, “Oh, did you hear Steve is enrolling in the police academy?”

  Steve was our mutual friend. Everyone knew he had a crush on me while we were in high school. He showed his interest in me by sitting at the same table in the school cafeteria and asking me the dumbest questions. Steve wasn’t the brightest, and I couldn’t stand a thought of dating him. I sensed Michelle liked him with her frequent mention of him in passing.

  My interest in boys was subdued by my focus to explore other things in life, such as acting. But Steve remained a good friend. If I ever asked him for help with anything under the sun, he would be there for me in a heartbeat.

  “Really?” I sounded surprised even though Steve had told me, boasting with pride.

  Michelle nodded. “It’ll be nice to have a cop we know well in the neighborhood. It just feels safer.”

  I gave her a vague smiled and said nothing.

  Michelle tapped her palms on the table. “Let’s do something fun today. Shall we?”

  I was going to say no at first, because of my trip jitters, but then I realized I’d already packed my single suitcase, and I was ready to go. My bus didn’t leave until noon the following day. There was plenty of time to feel the town, to rummage around it, and to remind myself why I was leaving.

  “Like what?”

  “Have you heard of Bikram yoga?”

  “I’ve heard of yoga, but the Bikram part doesn’t ring a bell.”

  Michelle laughed. “It’s like regular yoga, except you do it in a boiling room and you sweat bullets while you’re doing it.”

  “Eww! But that seems fun. Let’s do it.” We both got up from the table and headed for the door. As I stood next to Michelle, I towered over her. She’d always been much shorter than me. I placed my hand on her shoulder, already missing her. We found ourselves outside and embraced the fresh Gallup air.

  In twenty-four hours, I would erase it from my lungs.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Yah-ta-hey was the name of the town I grew up in. It was a place where distant dogs barked in the mornings and crickets chirped at night—and nothing else. The name meant “like a devil” in Navajo, an unusual choice given the clusters of churches in the town and nearby. It was a place where secrets were held deep.

  Our house was set far back from the main road, surrounded by acres of flat land. The nearby houses were distant enough for privacy, but the sound traveled fast and far throughout our small neighborhood. We knew everyone. The town had a population of six hundred people, occupying four square miles. To get any business done, you’d need to go to the closest large city nearby, which was Gallup, approximately eight miles down south. But even Gallup seemed a bit cramped, having more churches per capita than any other known city in America. Or that was what I thought, anyway.