Then she saw the arm. It was pale like milk and twisted in a strange direction.
Arden froze.
The soft patter of rain filled the silence.
With her phone not on her, she decided to investigate before calling the cops.
Her heart thumped in her chest. With each step she took, fear pulled at her mind. Her hair was damp now and dripping. She relied on dim natural light to illuminate the object.
The arm was clearly attached to a face-down body. Rain filled the ditch like a horse trough. The woman’s front side was submerged in two inches of muddy water. She wore a jean jacket that had a tear at the right shoulder and was missing the entire left sleeve, hence the arm Arden saw. Her fingernails were coral-colored and chipped. Her miniskirt had been hiked up to below her navel and her leggings had dozens of splits. Cuts and bruises painted the skin beneath. The girl’s shoulder-length red hair fanned out around her head. Large tufts had been pulled out, revealing the scalp’s tender skin. She had a single braid near the front that floated in the water.
Any reasonable person would’ve run, screamed, and contacted authorities right away. Arden didn’t. She was as silent as death, almost unable to breathe. As if being pulled by some invisible force, she neared the body and squatted down. A voice in her head told her to leave it alone. It begged her.
Arden reached out a trembling hand. Rainwater snaked around Arden’s wide green eyes and down the curve of her nose. She touched the woman’s shoulder. It was cold and functionless like rubber. Teeth chattering, she slowly rolled over the body.
It took more force than she anticipated. The cadaver’s head hung low on its floppy neck joint. The muddy wet hair prevented Arden from making out the woman’s face, though she could see that the woman wore a white shirt underneath her jean jacket. There were cigarette holes and cuts all up and down it.
Arden rolled the body over the rest of the way. The cadaver’s back splashed in the water. Her lifeless arms fell limply to the side. Her half-opened green eyes stared into the black iron sky. A droplet of rain plopped on her dilated pupil. She didn’t blink. There was a cut on her pointed chin and a bruise on her forehead. Strangulation bruises painted her neck. Her chapped lips were partly opened. Some of her wet hair was glued to her pale cheek.
Lightning flashed.
Arden recognized the girl.
It was her twenty-seven-year-old sister.
Arden took a step back and lost her footing. Her rear crashed down the road as the rain picked up. She gawked at the woman she’d spent her life with, almost disbelieving.
Not only was she faced with the death of her only remaining family member, Arden was face to face with her own mortality. For the first time in her existence, death was real, and so was the fact that her own life was amounting to nothing.
Arden jolted out of bed, drenched in a cold sweat much like the rain she felt that night. Her breathing was heavy. Her body was burning up. She glanced over at the clock - it was almost 6am. Arden swung her legs out of the bed. Her cold feet touched down on the floor. She got dressed in a sports bra, t-shirt, gym pants, and sneakers. She grabbed her gym bag and left quickly. Atlanta was still quiet this early in the morning. Morning dew painted the grass. The sunrise outlined tall buildings. Arden arrived at The Jungle, a small kickboxing gym.
She got changed in the locker room and wrapped her scarred knuckles in white cloth. She ran on the treadmill for thirty minutes and then headed over to the kickboxing area. This early in the morning, the facility was nearly empty. Arden approached the punching bag. Every time her knuckles slammed against the rough bag, she imagined the unknown men who took Patricia. She recalled her sister’s half-open eyes. Each punch sent a shock wave up her arm and to her elbow. She continued her onslaught, becoming more enraged. Her knuckles throbbed. The skin broke underneath the wrappings. Burgundy blood blossomed on the cloth. The pain was sharp. She eventually stopped and caught her breath. No amount of beating was going to clear her head.
She had to rely on something else.
Pastor Jim sat in the office of his small, non-denominational church. He wore a two-tone polo, jeans, and tennis shoes. His face was long and his hair was thin. The man had kind hazel eyes and a welcoming aura about him, much like a friendly father. Arden sat across him. She kept her hands under the table. Her right hand squeezed her busted knuckles.
She cast her eyes down. “I thought I had a lid on it, Pastor, but…”
Jim nodded. “Some wounds are deeper than others.”
Arden locked eyes with him. “Every time Patricia crosses my mind, I start seeing red. It wasn’t always like that. A few years ago, I felt like I could control it, but now… I don’t know.”
“Have you been continuing your investigation?”
Arden smirked. “If you can call it that. I’ve not had a breakthrough in months.”
“And the police?” Jim asked.
Arden made air quotes. “Ongoing investigation.”
The room went silent for a moment.
Arden bit into the inside of her cheek, trying to keep from feeling the pain throbbing in her busted knuckles.
Jim’s chair creaked a little as he leaned forward. “When you first came here after Patricia’s passing, you were looking for something. Trust. Justice. Purpose. And a few months later, after you went under the water and came back up, you felt free, yes?”
Arden nodded.
Jim gently smiled. “That burden was put behind you. A month later, you felt called to help girls like your sister and decided to become a private investigator. I remember the smile on your face when you sold everything you had to start your practice. It wasn’t about avenging your sister, it was to stop others from suffering the same fate. Is that still the case?”
“I…” Arden thought on it. She was beyond wearing a mask. “I don’t know anymore.”
Jim replied softly. “I want to tell you the truth, because it’s the only way you’d be set free: vengeance is the Lord’s. He’ll take care of this.”
“I know,” Arden replied, growing testy. “But as long as these guys walk free, more girls could be getting attacked.”
“You’re right,” Jim said. “I’m not saying that they get a free pass, but I’ll also say this; you aren’t called to stop every evil in the world. Some things are out of our control. I’m not saying that you should give up your search or pretend everything is alright. But don’t let this be what defines you. Let God be the author and finisher of your work. Obsession and hate might seem like great tools for productivity, but they lead to death, spiritually if not physically.”
“So what should I do then?” Arden deflated. “I know forgiving them is the right thing to do, but I feel like I can’t.”
“We don’t live by our emotions. We live by the Word,” Jim said. “I believe that there are some hurts that we need God’s help to heal. Many hurts, actually. Ask Him for the strength to forgive, but also for justice. Ask God to change your heart, so you can tackle this investigation objectively, not emotionally. And, whether or not you catch the man yourself, it doesn’t mean that God won’t bring in someone else who will. There are countless verses and psalms where God is called our Avenger. It says that when we cry out, He hears our cry, mounts on a black cloud, comes down, and scatters our enemies with a bow and arrow.”
“Psalm 18.”
“That’s the one,” Jim said. “It can apply to this situation, too. As you cry out for justice, it will be doled out. It may not be at our timing, but there is nothing impossible for our God.”
Arden kept fiddling with her knuckles.
Jim said to her, “It may seem like there’s no other choice, but you don’t need to compromise your love for God by taking on a battle you aren’t meant to take on. Jesus has set you free from your old self. You just need to come to terms with that. You do that and trust the Lord to work it out, not only will you be happy, but you’ll grow in your relationship with the Lord as well.”
“What if H
e wants me to take on this battle? What if everything happened so I could stop these monsters?” Arden asked.
“Firstly, I believe there is a very real enemy that means to steal, kill, and destroy. If anyone is to be blamed for your sister’s death, it’s him. Secondly, I can’t say what you are and aren’t called to do. That’s up to God, but I know that if God had His way, every man would come unto salvation. If those people that attacked your sister were filled with the Holy Spirit, you think they would’ve done that?”
Arden frowned. “No…”
“So what should you do?”
Arden set her jaw for a moment and then replied. “Pray for them.”
“And place your feelings for them on the altar. It’s not easy. They’ve acted wickedly, but I’m convinced that as long as they have breath in their lungs, there is still a chance for salvation,” Jim said.
Arden felt sober.
Jim took a breath. “Did God not form them and fashion them as well?”
Arden didn’t reply.
Jim broke the silence. “Here’s my advice: put aside your investigation for the time being and seek the Lord. When you feel like He’s given your answer, come back to me and we’ll pray through it. Does that sound good?”
Arden looked down and nodded. She believed his words to be true, but her pain still poked at her.
When she was baptized nearly six years ago, she felt something break off her that left her crying for an hour. She felt that her past truly died that day and she was raised into new life. Since then, it had been a battle to hold onto that truth. She had voices and false, deep-seated beliefs that contested her faith constantly, but she held fast. At least for the most part. When she first started her investigation, Arden’s mind was set on finding girls, but with each year that went by and her sister’s killers roamed free, Arden’s obsession had started to return. She thought it was put to death, but it seemed to come back and was stronger than ever. Her knuckles stung in pain as a reminder of her building anger.
Jim said, “How is Joe?”
Arden blinked, breaking out of her long train of thought. “Oh, he’s, uh, hanging in. He’s been a big help around the office.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Jim replied. “Does he still give you a hard time?”
“Regarding my faith? It's nothing I can’t handle.”
“Well, I’m glad that the two of you are getting along,” Jim replied.
Arden shrugged. “We manage.”
“I’ve been keeping his girl in prayer. It's not easy to be so young and having to be a mother,” Jim replied.
“Joe does most of the parenting. He allows Jessica to spend time at school and on her studies while he raises Ethan,” Arden said, glad she could take her mind off Patricia’s murder for even just a few minutes.
Jim asked. “Do you feel that Joe is helping in your faith or hindering it?”
Arden thought on it for a moment. Joe got into the investigative side more to stop the villains than to save the girls. He wished he started before his daughter had been taken, but he was the bigger vigilante of the two. Over the years, Arden had to admit that his roguish methods were starting to influence her. Like with Jackson. Arden would’ve never interrogated him in the alleyway. And though they never laid hands on him, years ago, Arden would’ve watched from a distance and taken the time to find something damning on the man before contacting the cops. Getting a full confession from the man last night proved to be more efficient, but it was much more morally ambiguous than she would have liked.
“Arden?” Jim asked.
Arden noticed once again that she had lost him. “The last few days have been rough.”
“No worries,” the kindly pastor answered.
“I hope I’m a bigger influence on him than he has been on me,” Arden answered honestly, but she wasn’t sure.
She checked the time. “We should probably pray.”
Jim put out his hands across the table with his palms up. Arden put her hands into his. Jim noticed her scabbed knuckles but made no comment of it. Arden bowed her head. So did Jim. He said, “You start.”
Arden cleared her thoughts. “Father, help me set my eyes upon You. I thank You for what You’ve done in my life. I thank You that You saved me. This thing with my sister is pressing down on me, and I don’t know what to do. Jesus, I… I need Your help. Take away this anger. Let justice come where it is needed, and let those who can find redemption. I desire to forgive them, but I ask You to give me strength to do so. Thank you…”
“Amen,” Jim said.
They both opened their eyes and drew back their hands.
“I love you, Arden,” Jim said innocently.
“Love you, too,” Arden replied as well.
They shared a final smile before Arden got up.
“Oh,” Jim said. “Here.”
He opened his drawer and pulled out a small tube of Neosporin, then tossed it to Arden. She caught it.
“That’s a strange thing to have lying around,” Arden said.
“I bought it last night. I don’t know why, I just felt like I should get it,” Jim said.
Arden studied the tube.
“The Lord is looking out for you, Arden,” Jim smiled.
Arden smiled slightly in return.
On the drive back home, Arden reflected on his words. It would be wise to put aside her search now until she felt a clearer direction. Despite all this, she still had a strong drive to find and stop these guys. She struggled to know if this was a divine call or her human emotions directing her.
After getting home, she put her gym clothes in the hamper. She put on a button-up blouse and tucked it into tight jeans, then pulled on her hiking/running shoes. She needed to be ready at all times for all things. She fixed her short red hair and headed out to the office. It was a four-story office suite. Arden arrived, seeing the fortified door with the fogged glass window reading Briar and Carmon Investigative Services.
Arden found the door already unlocked. She opened it. There was a small waiting area that had a door leading to a corner office and a door to a second smaller office. It wasn’t the biggest space in the world, but Arden and Joe had done a good job at keeping it classy. Also, Joe had given Arden the corner office.
Joe’s office was open. He was straightening up the objects on his desk.
“You’re early,” Arden said as she unlocked the office door.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Joe replied. “I’m surprised you’re late.”
Arden checked her watch. 9:17. Twenty minutes later than usual.
Joe walked over and leaned on the threshold of the door. “Are we going to make money today or crack down on some mofos?”
“Hopefully both,” Arden replied and got her door open.
“Keep praying.” Joe said dryly.
“I am, trust me.” Arden stepped into her office.
She had a wooden desk with two large filing drawers on each side. Behind her was a window to the city. Arden turned on the coffee maker and took a seat. She had a shelf with a variety of books. On one wall was a painting of a boat on choppy waters. On another wall was a cross.
Arden sank into her comfy seat. She hoped she wouldn’t have to pawn it, but Joe was right about them needing money. Helping people was good, but she still wanted to eat, and Joe still needed money to look after his family. Arden opened her laptop and typed in her encrypted password that was a combination of numbers, letters, spaces, and symbols. She wasn’t even supposed to have most of the evidence stored on this machine.
Joe walked into the room, sipping coffee. “My queue is empty.”
Arden checked her email and messages. “Mine, too.”
Joe stroked his beard, further sharpening the black point that had just a touch of grey. “What do you say we look into your sister’s case?”
Arden chuckled.
Joe was baffled. “How is that funny? You helped me find my daughter three years ago, let me help you.”
“It’s n
ot that, it's just I was talking to someone about this very thing this morning,” Arden replied.
“Who?”
“Pastor Jim,” Arden replied.
The coffee machine rumbled.
“What was his sage advice?”
“That I take a break, and decide if it's something I should really be doing.”
“You have six years’ worth of suspects and clues. She’s your sister and she was dumped outside your parents’ house, which means that her killer must know something about you or your family. Out of everyone in the world, you are the most equipped for this.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
Joe put his palms down on the desktop. “It’s us who make justice in this world. If He did, He would’ve done so.”
“Maybe He’s waiting on us to trust Him,” Arden replied.
Joe shook his head. “Arden, please. Let’s use reason here.”
“Sometimes faith defies reason,” Arden counter-argued.
“And that’s why we have suicide bombers,” Joe said.
Arden kept herself calm “It is through faith that I believe God loves all men. Even the ones that took my sister. And your daughter.”
Joe’s dark, haunted eyes cut into Arden. “Sometimes I don’t understand you. You say you believe in God, yet you deal with the vilest people all day long.”
“Without God, I wouldn’t be doing this,” Arden replied. “There are a lot better jobs that are less stressful and pay a whole lot more than tracking scum.”
“So you admit they are scum?”
Arden hated when Joe played devil’s advocate. “Sorry. They’re lost and their actions are vile, but God loves them just as much as you and me.”
“Yeah, He loves me enough to get my daughter assaulted at fourteen years old,” Joe said with venom.
Secrets Boxset: A Riveting Kidnapping Mystery Collection Page 12