Secrets Boxset: A Riveting Kidnapping Mystery Collection

by J. S. Donovan

  Charles took another sip.

  Gracie watched brutal scene playing out. It ended with the father arriving just in time to put a bullet into the attacker before Scarlet was truly hurt. Only the battle wasn’t without cost. The man had managed to get a shot off on the father as well. His blood stained his daughter's hand as he sank to the barn’s dirt floor, surrounded by his prized horses.

  Gracie sniffled.

  Charles stared at the screen, watching the girl’s fictional father die in complete silence. He went to take another sip when he felt Gracie’s soft touch against his hand. She gently slipped the glass from his fingers and downed the remaining scotch .

  It wasn’t that Charles didn’t notice. He just didn’t care.

  Gracie turned his face to hers. “They got him. Okay. He’ll talk to the cops. She’ll be home soon.”

  “This isn’t a movie, Gracie,” Charles replied. “If she wasn’t in that house, then where? In the ground maybe.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “We put everything into that girl,” Charles said. The drink had made him angry. “And then she has to go and run off. I can’t believe she could be so dumb.”

  “Charles, please--”

  Charles cut her off. “I don’t want to hear it, Gracie. You saw the footage. She left us and went straight to him. We made that girl a star. You know how many kids dream of that life? I’d say every little girl in America wants to be in the movies or singing on stage. We gave her the best education. We gave her everything. There is no excuse.”

  Gracie choked up. “She’s just a little girl.”

  “She’s more than that,” Charles said. “And to make such a stupid mistake… Unbelievable.”

  Gracie knew that she wasn’t going to get him to go to bed. Her sorrow turned to hurt. “Then keep drinking. I’m sure that’ll bring her back.”

  Gracie turned to leave when Charles forcefully grabbed her wrist.

  She twisted back with a look of defiance to hide her fear. “Let. Go.”

  Keeping his grip, Charles stood up. Looking at her from the side, only half of his face was illuminated by the screen. The other half was black. Tension hung in the air for a long moment. And then Charles cast down his eyes in shame.

  He loosened his grip. “I just want her home, Gracie.”

  “I know,” Gracie whispered.

  “I don’t give two craps about the man who took her,” Charles said.

  He let go of her and shut his eyes for a moment. When he had collected himself, he looked at the handprint on her wrist but didn’t make any remark. He sat down on his chair and went back to watching the muted TV.

  Gracie anxiously bit into her lower lip until she tasted copper. Not sure what to do with her conflicted husband, she slipped out of the room and made her way to the kitchen. She grabbed an open bottle of wine from the fridge. Once she set it down on the kitchen island, she cried a little bit. She’d been praying like never before, but with every hour she didn’t hear back from the police, the less she believed. If there was at least a ransom letter or demands from the kidnapper, maybe things would be different.

  Not bothering to wipe the tears away, Gracie poured a glass of wine. She glanced around her large spacious house and felt trapped. The walls seemed to be closing in on her and she was suddenly burning up. Not wanting to have a panic attack, Gracie quickly headed out of the back door and stared out into the dark backyard. She flipped on the switch, activating the outdoor lamps. Row of them ran parallel to a forested path and ended at a garden. It was a place where Scarlet and her would walk and rehearse various scenes.

  Gracie sipped her wine and followed the trail. The fresh air was a touch from heaven. She felt like she could finally clear her thoughts. As she walked down the illuminated trail, she imagined it was daylight and there were puffy white clouds ahead. She imagined that the trees were bright and lively. For a moment, it was like she was a child again. Her imagination took her somewhere beautiful, and whether it was fantasy or madness, she couldn’t care less. She was just happy to be alive.

  A bug bit her, thrusting her back into reality. She scratched her arm, not seeing where the pesky critter had gone. Up ahead, she saw the entrance to her garden and the oldest tree on the property. It was a tall oak tree that was fat and wide. It had strong branches and its trunk had a slight twist to it. Gracie squinted her eyes. There was something on the trunk of the tree.

  With cautious steps, she neared it. The garden had a fence to keep animals out. There was no vegetation growing, but Gracie had invested a lot of money into flowers and shaped hedges.

  Her breath quickened as she saw what was on the tree. The wine glass fell from her hand and splashed dark red liquid across the marigolds.

  Nails pinned Scarlet's red dress to the tree’s dark bark. The Broken Roses pilot screenplay was nailed into the heart of the dress. Its pages flapped in the breeze.

  7

  Subtext

  Arden’s office was dead quiet. The sunset breached the window blinds, creating jail bars across Charles and Gracie.

  The couple had the haggard appearance of walking corpses. Dark circles brushed under their deep hollow eyes. Their cheeks appeared to be sunken. They hadn’t bothered changing out of last night's clothes. There was about a foot and a half of distance between their two guest chairs. Joe lingered in the corner of the room. Shrouded in shadow, he held his steamy coffee mug and watched the couple with his intense eyes.

  Everyone in the room was exhausted.

  Purple brushes painted Arden’s neck and knuckles. When she looked in the mirror this morning, she had flashbacks of her sister’s body.

  She waited for the Gales to speak, but they were sleepwalking. Honestly, Arden was surprised they wanted to visit her in person after what they had discovered last night.

  Arden spoke softly. “I’m sorry.”

  It didn’t need explaining that she was wrong about Marcus. Was he a perv? Yes. Did he sneak into the party to spy on Scarlet? Yes. But while he was being toted off to the hospital, someone else nailed Scarlet’s dress to that tree. Maybe they worked together? Arden couldn’t say. She wouldn’t have access to talk to Marcus while he was in police custody and with the assault charges piled up against him, she wouldn’t see the guy until they were in court. If Arden still lived in Macon, she could pull some strings in the police department, but Atlanta was a different ball game. Arden was back to square one, and now that the girl had been gone for seventy-two hours, her chances of survival had greatly diminished. For the abductor to taunt her parents in the way he had, Arden knew she was dealing with a new caliber of evil. A passage of Scripture came to mind. “He who is in you is greater than he who is in the world.” Arden chewed on it and fell into silent prayer.

  With red-rimmed eyes and a tinge of anger, Charles glanced up at Arden. “I want my daughter back.”

  Joe spoke up from the corner of the room. “We’ll continue to do our best.”

  Charles glared at him. “Name a price and we’ll pay it.”

  Arden smiled sympathetically and reminded them, “The normal rate will suffice.”

  Gracie squeezed her handbag handle so tightly that her digits turned snow white. “We aren’t looking for normal.”

  “I think you’ve got the wrong idea about what we do around here,” Arden said cautiously.

  Charles glanced at their bruises. “No. You’re just the right people for the job.”

  Arden rubbed her neck self-consciously.

  Joe said nothing. Behind his thick beard and his intense brows, his expression was unreadable.

  Charles continued. “You proved you’re willing to go the extra mile last night. Gracie and I are willing to do whatever it takes to get you to go the extra mile.”

  “We shouldn’t be having this discussion,” Arden said. If anyone found out about their vigilante tactics, it would be over for Arden.

  Joe stepped out of the shadow. Putting one hand on the top of Arden’s chair, he studied
the Gales with intensity. The couple looked back him, unashamed that their perfect facade was broken. “I had your same drive when my own daughter.”

  “What happened?” Charles asked.

  “I found her… And the guy who took her.”

  “She’s alive?” Gracie asked.

  Joe nodded seriously. “We can get your girl back, too. No reservations, but it’ll cost you.”

  “Joe,” Arden said through her teeth.

  He ignored her.

  Gracie pulled out her checkbook. “Name a price.”

  Joe said. “Cash only. As we discussed in our first meeting, we’ll need full transparency.”

  “You’ll have it,” Charles said.

  Gracie downcast her eyes. “We trust you two more than the police.”

  The comment threw Arden for a loop. “You never mentioned the police being an issue before.”

  “Last night, they made jokes about my daughter as they took down her dress,” Gracie said. “Besides, if they were as competent as they said they were, they would be on this case wholeheartedly, yet I only see a few officers.”

  “Let’s talk shop,” Joe said to Charles. “We go 110 percent to find this girl. You pay in cash deposits. Big bills work. Also, you don’t come here in person again until we say so. That make sense?”

  “Yes,” Charles conceded.

  “One last thing,” Joe said. “You don’t mention this arrangement to anyone. Understand?”

  “I do,” Charles said. He opened his briefcase and pulled out the pilot script. He put it on Arden’s desk. “It’s not the same one that was nailed to the tree, but it should be the same draft.”

  Arden flipped through the pages. It was sixty-six pages long.

  Gracie got up and was ready to leave.

  Arden stopped them. “How did you know about our extra effort in such cases? It couldn’t have just been the bruises.”

  “Your friend at the police department told us,” Charles replied. “He said we could count on you.”

  The Gales exited.

  Derrick had set her up. She’d have words with him, but first...

  Arden glared at Joe. “It's one thing to push the envelope when we’re working in private, it's another thing to broadcast it to make a buck. When was this ever about money, huh?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I have a family that need food and tuition,” Joe replied.

  Arden shook her head in disbelief.

  “I’m going to find their girl, as promised. I'm not a soulless bastard. It’s called being smart,” Joe said.

  “If things go south and we get caught, it's going to bring us both down. Your daughter and grandson won’t have anywhere to go,” Arden said.

  The two of them stood off for a moment.

  Without saying a word, Joe opened up the script and started reading. Arden knew this argument wasn’t going to go anywhere. Joe had his mind set, and she knew firsthand how reckless he could be.

  They moved on from their petty disagreement. Arden knew that she would probably have to resort to more extreme measures now that the girl had been gone for so long, but she would have preferred to do it without making it a bigger deal than it needed to be.

  Going back to the case at hand, Arden had to figure out why the abductor left the dress and the script. Her first idea was that it was a giant middle finger to the parents. But that answer didn’t satisfy Arden. There had to be a motive. Of course, in this world there was such a thing as madmen who acted without cause, but the thing about madmen was that in their minds, they are sane. So what message was the abductor trying to tell the Gales? Unless the Gales were never the intended audience. It could be for the police as well. Arden didn’t know.

  Joe flipped through the pages of the script.

  “Tell me about the pilot,” Arden said.

  “It starts at the cusp of the Civil War. Scarlet’s character watches her father and brother get ready for war while the women prepare to take over the house duties. We get to see the lives of the slaves as they plan to use the moment the masters leave to revolt. Meanwhile, the brothers are torn because one supported the Union and the other the Confederacy. Scarlet is caught having to figure it out.”

  “Doesn’t really sound like my cup of tea,” Arden replied.

  “Once you see it, you’ll understand,” Joe said. “The set design is impeccable.”

  That gave Arden an idea.

  “What if we visited the set?”

  “I’m sure Charles or Gracie can get us in.”

  They called the Gales. As per their agreement, they were transparent with the address of the studio and made calls to the people in charge to get Arden and Joe inside.

  It was around 11 am when they finally got access into the backlot. It was a sunny Georgia day. The atmosphere was humid, but the spring air was cool. The name tag on the guard's chest read “Manny.”

  Arden started by asking him about the last days Scarlet was here. He told them that they were taking a few months off for pre-production and Scarlet hadn’t been in any scenes for two months.

  “Did you suspect someone trying to be more familiar with Scarlet, or anyone you were suspicious of?”

  “Everyone loved Scarlet,” Manny replied. “She was constantly surrounded by fanfare. No one I knew would ever want to harm her.”

  “Was there anyone that arrived on set asking to see her?”

  Manny chuckled. “All of the time. Paparazzi and die-hard fans. I made sure they never got past the gate.”

  Joe, being the driver today, pulled up and parked in the lot. The set was home to three studios. Most of their filming happened on locales throughout the state. Nevertheless, the television studio had a few shows being filmed here.

  Joe asked a few of the workers where they shot most of Scarlet’s scenes. That was inside Studio Building 3. They walked inside and saw the plywood backs of most of the interior scenes. It became evident that they shot every scene of the show’s famous plantation house inside of this studio.

  Joe handed the script off to Arden. A different security guard kept an eye on them as they walked through. He was a new hire and had never seen Scarlet in person.

  Arden stepped into the living room. Dust had started to gather on the various props. A small smile tugged on the corner of Joe’s lips. He was having a field day being here.

  Arden flipped through the script. It was surprisingly dense. Most screenplays had very taut action lines and character description, but this writer had gone into great detail with character description and historical facts. From what Derrick told Arden on her drive over, the police were already investigating him. But there was very little tying him to Scarlet’s disappearance. He wasn’t even in the state at the time. Arden read through the script as she walked through the recreation of the 19th century home. The placement of nearly every article of furniture and prop was listed in great specificity in the screenplay. It was surreal to walk through the exact room just the way she had imagined it in her head. Even the floral pattern on the love seat was just how the writer had described it.

  Arden glanced up to Joe as he poked at the old grandfather clock. “How often does the furniture play a part in the story?”

  Joe glanced over his shoulder. “Not much actually. It's more to immerse the viewer.”

  They walked into Scarlet’s room. From the dusty books to the oil lantern, everything was placed in a perfectly cluttered way that both felt authentic and lived-in. It was almost like Arden could smell the fireplace by its design. She noticed a large wardrobe, a dollhouse that was identical to the plantation’s appearance, and a partly-opened clothes trunk.

  Arden flipped through the script until she found the first page that described the girl’s room. It was almost half a page worth of description. In the middle of the paragraph was the description of the dollhouse. It described the placement of one doll on the balcony and another inside.

  Arden noticed that the dolls were exactly identical as described in the sc
ript.

  The script also described Scarlet’s room where “He watches over her.” There was no context in the paragraph description explaining who “He” was.

  “Joe,” Arden said.

  Her partner turned away from studying the set and walked over to the script. Arden pointed out the section.

  “Who’s He?” Arden asked.

  “Don’t know,” Joe said. “Most of the scenes in Scarlet’s room take place between her and her mother.”

  “It just seems strange to put that in there.” Arden walked over to the dollhouse and examined the inside of its various rooms. Instead of the upstairs bedroom, she found a miniature recreation of the girl’s bedroom. Crouching down, Arden shined a flashlight around the room. She found an image of a dark figure painted just above the bed. It was like a silhouette of sorts. Just looking at it gave Arden chills.

  “Fancy something?” a voice said behind them.

  Arden quickly turned.

  The man standing at the foot of the room was more a flamboyant type. He wore a turtleneck and had a bald head. He was skinny and short with round glasses.

  “Arden Briar,” Arden introduced herself.

  “Joe Carmon,” Joe added and shook his hand. “We’re investigators looking into Scarlet’s disappearance.”

  After taking his hand back from Joe, the man squeezed hand sanitizer into his palm. “Terrance Wing. I’m lead set designer for Broken Roses.”

  Arden stood up. “You put all of this together?”

  “My staff and I, yes. It’s part of our job description. What can I do to assist you two?” Terrance asked.

  Joe gestured to the dollhouse. “You constructed this?”

  “Me and a few others,..” Terrance said, unsure where this line of questioning was going.

  Arden said. “Are you aware of the image planted inside of the model Scarlet’s room?”

  Terrance shook his head. Arden invited him over to take a look at it. Terrence peeked inside of the miniature replica of the mansion. His eyes went wide and he cursed under his breath. Arden and Joe braced themselves behind him, just in case he did something drastic.