Family Ties
Mystery Box Set
James Kipling
Family Ties Mystery Box Set
Copyright 2019 James Kipling
James Kipling Publication House
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Table of Contents
Book 1: Gone Missing 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
Book 2: A Cold Trail CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
Book 3: The Missing One -1-
-2-
-3-
-4-
-5-
-6-
-7-
-8-
-9-
-10-
-11-
-12-
-13-
-14-
-15-
-16-
-17-
-18-
-19-
-20-
-Epilogue-
Book 4: Secrets 1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
Sample Story
Notes
Book 1: Gone Missing
Chapter 1
Northwestern Montana ran by both sides of the vehicle as agents Smith and Holliday travelled in silence. It was all very peaceful… suspiciously so.
“It’s too quiet” Holliday said. “We should have back up.” He twisted in his seat and scanned all around.
“That plane disappeared. I don’t like it.” His partner, Smith, disagreed.
“Let’s just check out this ranch before we bring anyone else in. We’ve been searching for months and seen nothing.” He kept on driving towards the ranch ahead.
The car turned onto the dirt road leading up to Kimble’s ranch. They'd had a few leads that pointed to something going on here, but nothing was concrete.
The ranch looked bigger than it seemed from a distance, and the FBI agents could see large buildings running along the sides of the road. The place was listed as a cattle ranch, but they could see that it was much larger than normal for ranching. The main building rose up in the center of the ranch as they drove closer; barns and other work and support buildings were scattered around, creating the illusion of a small town. Smith slowed the car. As they looked closer, they noticed the buildings were run down, some even falling apart. The main house was in obvious need of repair. The whole place had a neglected look about it and showed no signs of being run as a working ranch. There was, however, someone sitting out on the front porch.
“Let’s see what this guy has to say, but if this turns out to be another dead end, there’s not much more we can do,” Smith said. “We probably should have packed it in months ago.”
The car pulled up in front of the main house and both agents climbed out. They were dressed casually, having learned the hard way that many locals didn’t particularly love what the FBI represented.
The man on the porch was old and the wooden bench he sat on even older. He was smoking a pipe and looking at them from under his hat.
“Mr. Kimble?” Smith asked politely, but he stood in front of the car and his eyes took in the surrounding area carefully. It wouldn’t be the first time someone in Montana chased them away with a shotgun.
“I’m Tom Smith and this is Matt Holliday. We wanted to ask you a few questions.”
“Mr. Kimble?!” The old man laughed in a raspy voice. “No one has called me that in years. Everybody calls me Grandpa Joe.”
“Nice to meet you, Grandpa Joe.” Holliday smiled to put the old man at ease. “So, can we ask you a few questions?”
“About what?” The old man asked skeptically, and looked past them at the car. “Nobody comes around here much.”
“Friend of ours is missing. He was in this area when he disappeared. We’re just asking around if anyone had seen him,” Smith glanced around. “I guess you would remember if someone different had been around.”
“I don’t talk to cops,” Grandpa Joe said without a flicker while ignoring the question, “and you two look like cops to me.”
“We’re not the cops,” Holliday said, trying to calm him. “We really are just looking for a friend.”
“Don’t believe you.” The old man stood up from his bench slowly, taking his time extending his legs while holding his back. “You’re trespassers! You should get off my land before I shoot you.” By now the man was yelling and Holliday half turned to go. The old man looked anything but dangerous and they were obviously upsetting him. Smith put one foot on the first step of the porch in preparation to climb up.
“Look,” he said, “we don’t want trouble. Can you just tell us if you’ve seen any strangers around.”
“Are you or are you not cops?” Grandpa Joe shouted. "Answer me!” He pointed at them threateningly.
“Okay, okay.” Holliday stepped forward and raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender. “No need to get worked up. We are not cops, and we’ll be on our way,”
“Get off my property, now,” Grandpa Joe yelled hysterically, “or I’ll shoot you both. I'm going inside for my gun, and if you’re still here when I come out, I’m going to shoot you.”
Holliday looked at his friend and fellow agent, and they both sensed the old guy was hiding something. He was way too upset for the situation at hand. Something wasn’t right here.
“Let’s go, he's not going to talk to us,” Smith said, in a voice plenty loud enough for the old man to hear.
“Okay,” Holliday agreed, and they both made to turn around to walk back to the car. They had gone only a few steps when several camouflaged gunmen sprang from the side of the building and sprayed the agents with a hail of gunfire. They didn’t even have a chance to reach for their guns before they were lying on the ground, full of bullet holes. The gunmen continued to shoot, enjoying the way their shots made the bodies’ jump, as if they were still alive.
By the time Grandpa Joe returned to the porch with his antique ri
fle, two of the gunmen were dragging the bodies away and a third was climbing into their car. The old man just shook his head at the mess visible from his porch and sat back down on his bench. No one spoke as the place was meticulously cleaned of all evidence. Bullet shells were collected, bloody dirt vanished, the car was ditched and the bodies were disposed of. Grandpa Joe was left to enjoy his evening nap on his sunny porch with no more unwanted interruptions.
“They were getting too close,” he said to himself, as he leaned back on the warm bench.
Chapter 2
Like most cities in the US, Salt Lake City was busy, noisy and not a nice place to attempt to run through. Special Agent Asa Clark was late for a meeting, but the city didn’t care about her problems. The day had started off badly. She had woken up late, managed to spill coffee all over her clothes and then, on top of everything else, her car wouldn’t start.
The city was busy early in the morning and she had to fight for a place on the bus line, run after two taxis, and take the stairs, because all the elevators were full. Sometimes her life really sucked.
She had managed to finish her last case successfully, though, sending a very astute killer to prison. He had terrorized a neighborhood for almost a year. The local media criticized the FBI for not being able to catch the killer, and Agent Clark had worked non-stop, to the point where own life had been put on hold.
Now that the case was behind her, she had thought that she’d have some time to relax and maybe even take a few days of vacation. But no, the Deputy Director had called her in after only two days and given her a new assignment.
Agent Clark rushed through the building, navigating her way to the office of Josie Shepherd, Deputy Director of the Criminal Enforcement Division. She was aware that the Deputy Director wasn’t going to be happy about her being late. Stopping in front of the office door, Agent Clark took a few deep breaths and adjusted her suit jacket, hoping the meeting would be quick.
She knocked on the door and waited a few seconds, receiving no answer. “Deputy Director?” she called through the door.
“Come in. I’ve been waiting for some time now. You’re late, Agent Clark.” The voice was harsh and unfriendly.
Agent Asa Clark walked in and closed the door behind her, looking over at the woman sitting behind the heavy desk in front of the window. The Deputy Director was watching her coldly.
“I am really sorry I'm so late, Director Shepherd. I had problems with my car and had to take the—”
“Take a seat, Clark,” the Director interrupted her.
“Yes sir,” she answered quickly, addressing Director Shepherd the way she preferred. “Just sit,” the Deputy Director instructed. She opened a file on her desk.
“I have a case for you.” She didn’t wait for a response and went on. “The one you just finished was a big one, but time for yourself will have to wait.”
Agent Clark stayed silent, though she really didn’t feel like taking a new case so soon.
“This case is very sensitive,” the Deputy Director continued, not expecting an answer. “Two FBI field agents have disappeared in Montana. Agents Smith and Holliday were investigating a possible criminal organization in the area. Their last report was exactly one week ago today. Last Thursday, they contacted their Direct Supervisor. They informed him that they were going to visit some ranches in the region to check out the criminal activity in the area. They didn’t contact him again three days later when they were due to give a status report. We have already had the local office check on them, but unfortunately, there is no sign of the two agents.”
“So, you want me to investigate their disappearance?” Agent Clark asked, already switching gears and thinking of possible strategies to use in solving the case.
“Yes. Handle it with the utmost caution, professionalism and care,” the Deputy Director instructed. Smith and Holliday are both good agents, with years of experience in the field. According to their boss, they were ready to close the case, as they just hadn’t come up with any proof of the existence of a criminal or cartel related organization in the area.”
“I’ll be needing access to all the case files then,” Clark answered, and was already in her work mode. “Did they have families?”
“Agent Smith is divorced and has no children, while Agent Holliday has a fiancé and a mother at home,” the other woman answered sadly, and for the first time that morning, showing some human emotion. “I want to find out what happened to them just as soon as we can.”
“I understand,” Agent Clark agreed. “I’ll review the files today and head out to Montana this evening. I'll keep in touch and inform you of any new leads.”
“Okay. Agent Clark, you’re a good agent, and I have to congratulate you on your latest successfully closed case, but—” she paused. “I’m assigning you to a case that involves two of our own—always a hard thing to do. Be extra careful on this one, Agent. I have a gut feeling that something is going on out there. It feels all wrong and going in with fresh eyes, you just might spot it.”
“Yes Sir. I’ll look at all of the evidence and see what the locals have to say,” Clark replied, “and hope we can find those two agents alive.”
“Use the field office in Kalispell, Clark. They have some good people there. I understand you’re already familiar with the area?”
“Yes. My mother is from the Salish Flathead Indian Reservation not far from there.”
The Deputy Director pushed a stack of files across her desk. “Take these files. They have the notes from Smith and Holliday. You can always contact me, Agent. Even on my private phone if you find it necessary.”
After a few more questions, Agent Clark took the files and walked out of the office. She had been working as a FBI agent for several years now and nothing really surprised her anymore. But when other agents were involved it brought an added urgency to the case.
Chapter 3
Asa Clark’s plane touched down at Montana’s regional airport in Kalispell late the next morning. It had taken her longer than she expected to go through the files. Thankfully, at least the flight had been a relaxing one, who took a moment to review the files and notes in her mind.
At the airport, she looked for a liaison, but nobody seemed to have come to meet her. She had contacted the local people to let them know she was on her way. Clark walked out of the airport and climbed into one of a handful of cabs that were sitting there.
The town of Kalispell was small but full of activity. She was familiar with the area but had grown up in a much larger city. The taxi driver was talking to her about a local fair where there was going to be racing and cattle pageants. She sighed and wondered what it was like to only have the local entertainment to worry about. Her job left very little time for anything lighthearted.
“Here we are,” the driver announced happily, as he stopped the car in front of the bank building that held the Kalispell FBI field office. “It’s up on the second floor. And don’t forget about the fair.”
Agent Clark entered the bank building and wasn’t surprised when everyone greeted her with a good morning, or at least a smile. That was something you didn’t see often in the big city.
Up the stairs to the second floor, she went through the door marked ‘FBI’ in large letters, and approached the front desk which was occupied by a middle-aged woman.
“I'm here for Agent Todd Gibson. He should be waiting for me,” she said, taking off her glasses. “Agent Asa Clark.”
“Agent Clark?” the woman asked. “We’ve been expecting you. I’ll ask Todd if he can see you now.”
Asa took a seat in the waiting area.
At twenty-nine, she was an attractive woman, although, not in the conventional way. She preferred to look professional, dressing in suits and conservative clothes. Her long dark hair was always tied back out of the way, because her work was the most important thing in her life and she wanted to be taken seriously. Asa had always dreamed of becoming an FBI agent
. She joined the FBI Academy straight out of college and graduated with First Class Honors. Her sociology degree combined with her analytical intelligence helped her to solve cases that other agents found impossible.
With a Native American mother and an Irish father, Asa had done well to obtain her current success, overcoming the odds against her, perhaps. She was a perfectionist who loved detail. Her notes were meticulous and the many hours spent reviewing the cases she solved paid off with success. At the same time, though she was familiar to some extent with the area of the case, she had actually grown up in a big city. Clark liked the city lifestyle, but she could ride a bull if the occasion demanded, she loved to line dance when time allowed, sometimes drank a little too much and she was superbly fit. Her one concession to looking professionally chic and well-dressed on the job, was to wear shoes that would still allow her to break into a sprint when the situation demanded.
Right now, Asa Clark was a young FBI agent that people saw at the top of her game. She had solved a number of high profile cases by being thorough and paying attention to even the slightest detail. She had gained the attention of her superiors, who were eager to move her up the chain of command if she continued to prove herself. She wasn’t surprised that a case involving two missing field agents was assigned to her, but she was no fool and could see that this might well be an extremely dangerous mission. A lot would depend on the people who worked here in the local area. As a bonus, her connection to the Native American culture nearby was a tool she could use during the investigation. In fact, her mother still had relatives right here in Kalispell.
“Agent Clark?!” The woman behind the desk called out. “Agent Gibson will see you now.” Asa stood up and the other woman continued, “His office is on the left, you’ll see his name on the door.”
“Thank you,” Clark said, and followed her directions. Gibson’s office was easy to find and she softly knocked on the open door as she entered.
“Agent Gibson, my name is Agent Asa Clark,” she said formally. “I’ve been assigned to help with the case of the two missing agents.”
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