Secrets Boxset: A Riveting Kidnapping Mystery Collection

by J. S. Donovan

  Her Miami office had been separated from the rest of the large bullpen. It boasted a wide city view and smelled of natural air fresheners. Her old desk had a modern glass design and held a sleek computer monitor and a bonsai tree gifted to her by her boss to help with the office’s feng shui. The dingy place she stood in had all the charm of the cheap, crooked lawyer who owned it before her. The desk she would build was stained black wood and maybe a tier above IKEA.

  “Anna Dedrick: Private Investigator.” Richard read from the copper-nickel door sign and turned it to Anna. “You’re not transferring into the police station? I’m sure Garrett can get you set up.”

  “Nah,” Anna said. “Too much of a hassle.”

  Also, not much money, Anna wanted to say but didn’t want to offend her father. Not that finance was all Anna cared about, but the Van Buren PD and Sheriff’s Department held on to every penny with a clenched fist.

  Richard put the sign back in the box. “Most of your cases in Van Buren will probably be pretty bland compared to Miami.”

  “That’s the point,” Anna said honestly. “I’ve done enough of that for three lifetimes.”

  “If it makes you happy,” her father said with a sweet smile. “I just don’t want my angel’s talents going to waste.”

  Anna grinned back at him. “Thanks, Dad. But I want this, truly.”

  Her father pulled out another box and took out a few dusty photos. “These are from when you and Evan were kids. The camping trip!”

  “It’s been a lifetime since I’ve been through them,” Anna admitted. “We can do it together if you’d like. That might be fun.”

  A jingle played in Anna’s back pocket. With an inquisitive expression, she pulled out her cell phone.

  “Who is it?” Richard asked.

  Not recognizing the number, Anna accepted the call and placed the phone up to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Is this Anna Dedrick?” a frantic woman said on the other end of the line.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank God,” the woman said with tear-filled relief. “My name is Trisha Rines. I saw your ad online and would like to speak with you. Are you available now?”

  “Uh… sure.” Anna looked around her disheveled office and the piles of boxes. With a big corny smile, Richard gave her a thumb’s up.

  Anna waved him off. “Can I ask what this is about, Mrs. Rines?”

  “My daughter. Someone took my daughter.”

  The pen tapped anxiously on the yellow legal pad, leaving behind little black specks on the page. Silhouettes appeared on the other side of the fogged glass door window. A man and woman, Anna surmised by their heights and postures. She put the pen down on the black desk and leaned forward on the leather-rolling chair.

  The door handle rattled and the Rines stepped inside the dimly lit office. Anna rose from her seat. “Please, come in. I apologize for the mess. I’m still getting organized after the move.”

  The couple glanced at the stacked boxes tucked in the back corner as they wandered over the two chairs facing Anna’s desk.

  Mr. Rines was a handsome black man with a well-structured face. Standing over six feet, he wore a white button-up under a steel blazer and walked with obvious skepticism. By the dingy look of her office, Anna didn’t blame him for his doubt.

  Eyes puffy from tears, Mrs. Rines smiled politely to herself. She was a five-foot four black woman with a soft face, alluring eyes, and highlighted shoulder-length hair. The waves and curls gave it a classy, elegant aesthetic. She wore an expensive dark blue dress and extended her oily hand. Anna took it and shook, feeling underdressed in her collared blue button down with sleeves rolled to her elbows and black slacks. “Good to see you, Mrs. Rines.”

  “Call me Trisha,” the woman said in her soft voice. “This is my husband, Avery.”

  Mr. Rines shook Anna’s hand. “You can find our daughter?”

  Straight to the point. Anna liked that. They sat down. “We’ll see.”

  The couple exchanged relieved looks and squeezed each other’s hand. Anna picked up her pen. “Before we get started, I must tell you that I mostly deal with civil investigations.”

  “No need to be humble, Ms. Dedrick,” Avery said. “We know about your reputation. You took down one of the nation’s biggest prostitution rings when you worked with Miami PD. That type of achievement doesn’t go unnoticed, especially after you caught the monster that killed the Beckham family.”

  They did their research. Still, it was information anyone could find with a simple Google search.

  “The spotlight loves you, Anna,” Trisha said with a small smile. “That’s a rare attribute in your line of work.”

  “Thank you,” Anna replied, hoping that in some alternative universe, the media hadn’t bolstered her into some super figure with a perfect mind, work ethic, and body who never makes mistakes and lives up to an impossible standard. Just when she thought she’d escaped Miami…

  “Tell me about your daughter.”

  “Her name is Keisha Rines,” Avery replied. “She turned eleven this year.”

  Anna’s brows rose. “The Keisha Rines?”

  Trisha crossed her hands on her lap. “Yes. She was playing at King’s Opera House to end her six-month tour three nights ago. We wanted to do something special. Purely exclusive. After all, Van Buren is my hometown.”

  “The theatre is small,” Avery explained. “We only invited close friends, donors, and upstanding patrons in the music field. Before you ask, yes, we had background done on all of them. None of them had a criminal record. Nothing major, at least.”

  “We’re not sure if we suspect them yet,” Trisha added. “We were the last ones to leave. When we walked to the car, we found the back door to be open. Keisha was gone. Only her heels remained. No witnesses either.”

  “Have the police been looking into it?”

  “Yes,” Trisha said, sniffling. “But they move too slow.”

  “You say she was kidnapped? Any particular reason you suspect that? Was there a ransom letter?”

  The Rines traded looks. “Nothing,” Trisha said. “We just… feel it.”

  Anna jotted down a note. “Tell me about more about Keisha. Her personality?”

  “She’s a beautiful girl. High IQ. Very talented.” Avery chuckled with frustrated sadness. “Didn’t deserve to be taken.”

  “Did she like it?” Anna asked.

  “What?”

  “Playing the piano.”

  A confused expression flooded over Avery’s face. “Of course she did. She loved it. We practice almost every day.”

  Anna nodded intently. “Would you say she is rebellious?”

  “All kids have a rebellious side,” Avery said, getting frustrated.

  This might be getting somewhere. “How would you describe her after her shows?”

  “Tired. She’s eleven, and it’s not easy performing in front of a crowd.”

  Anna took down another note. “How about before her shows?”

  Avery got defensive. “What are you getting at?”

  Anna placed down the legal pad. “Van Buren has a higher national average in terms of crime rate than most communities in the US. That said, it’s definitely not among the greatest. We’re talking property thefts, house burglaries, and the occasional domestic assault. True, children have gone missing before, but in a small town like this, they are more likely to run away.”

  “Are you saying…?”

  “I’m not ruling out that she wasn’t kidnapped, but there’s a possibility--”

  Avery shook his head. “No. Not our Kei. Never.”

  Anna directed her gaze at Mrs. Rines. “Trisha?”

  The woman was silent. She looked at her lap. “There were times when I felt she doesn’t love the piano. She has an adventurous spirit. The stage provides that outlet, but I don’t think it fully scratched that itch.”

  “Has she ever run away before?”

  Trisha’s lip quivered. “Once. Only for a few h
ours. To play, she said.”

  “We told you what we know,” Avery stated. “Are you willing to help us?”

  Anna always had a soft spot for children. In Miami, she went through hell and high water to save the Dade County girls. Three of them around the age of fourteen. They were chained to a pipe under a man’s sink for days at a time, only taken out to be beaten or used. Disgust lodged in Anna’s throat. The office suddenly turned hot and stuffy.

  “I want to help, but the police are probably your best bet,” Anna explained. “They have more resources and manpower than me. My father used to work with them. I can vouch for their competence.”

  Trisha unbuttoned her expensive black snakeskin purse and pulled out a checkbook and pen. She put it on the table and opened it. Her tired eyes locked on Anna. “If we only wanted the police’s help, we wouldn’t have come to you.”

  Avery nodded to himself. “Just name your price, Ms. Dedrick. No cost is too high for my daughter’s life.”

  3

  On the Tracks

  The Rines house was east of Van Buren, tucked little ways behind a suburban neighborhood. Brick and white wood made up the two-story building. Trees spotted the trimmed grass and short hedges sprouted out beneath the windowsill. With the money Avery and Trisha were making, they could’ve gone much bigger. Nonetheless, the residence could accommodate a successful doctor’s summer needs.

  Following behind them, Anna walked the flagstone path to their small porch and entered inside. Family portraits decorated the main hall. The smooth sideboard surfaces and wood floor glistened under a crystalline chandelier.

  “We were gone most of the summer,” Avery explained as they strutted through the hall. “Keisha’s tour took us from New York to Seattle. Overseas as well. We pay a young lady to house sit for us while we’re away.”

  Anna studied a large framed portrait. On a silky white backdrop, Avery and Trisha flanked Keisha from each side. They all had perfect smiles and perfect clothes. The prodigy had two silver bells in her slinky black hair.

  “Mind if I take pictures?” Anna asked.

  “As long as they are deleted after she’s found.”

  Anna removed her phone from her pocket. “Keisha didn’t come home too often, I’m guessing.” She snapped a photo.

  “No time for that,” Avery said. “Here’s her practice room.”

  Anna peeked inside the spacious white room. A grand piano rested near the room’s center. Large windows filled the area with natural sunlight.

  “We like to minimize the distractions.” Avery explained. “It keeps Kei focused.”

  Anna approached the glass trophy case erected in the main hall. She studied the assortment of Keisha’s awards and achievements on multi-tiered glass shelves. “Impressive. How long has she been playing?”

  “We started when she was four so… seven years.”

  “Three professionally.” Trisha added.

  “How long does she practice a day?”

  “A few hours every morning,” Trisha said, almost whimsically. Her dark eyes studied trophies with subtle regret.

  “Five to be precise,” Avery corrected. “Come on. I’ll show you her room.”

  Grabbing the handrail, Avery led them up the stairs. Anna took photos of portraits hanging on the adjacent wall. They were mostly of Avery, Trisha, and Keisha in front of different elegant backdrops. Occasionally, another family member would be involved. They either had the happiest family on earth or lived the perfect illusion. Anna’s skeptic side chose the latter.

  “Keisha an only child?” she asked as they reached the upstairs.

  “Correct.” Avery took a breath. “One and done, that’s what Trisha said.”

  Mrs. Rines smiled softly to herself, not denying nor confirming her husband’s statement.

  The prodigy's room had a pink hue with a memory foam bed that boasted a choir of stuffed animals. A wall-mounted shelf ran around the room’s top, supporting a plethora of expensive dolls. Some were still in their pristine packages.

  “You mind?” Anna asked as she stepped into the room.

  “Take all the time you need.”

  With an uncomfortable expression, the Rines stepped out, leaving the door cracked.

  Anna started underneath the bed. She pulled out the long plastic boxes stuffed with old Barbies and other neglected toys. Removing a coat of dust with the palm of her hand, she opened it and dug inside. Nothing out of the ordinary or anything missing. Sliding them under the bed, she shoved her hand in between the mattresses, feeling paper. She retrieved a teen’s fashion magazine regarding the latest boy bands. Anna put it back. She opened a door, entering a closet fit for a queen. Dresses and shirts of all shades and designs hung perfectly on two adjacent racks. At their foot, dozens of cubbies held dozens of shoes and heels. It could be any eleven-year-old girl’s dream, but was it Keisha’s? Anna took pictures.

  All the heels were accounted for but one pair: the purple ones Mrs. Rines spoke of. The police had filed them into evidence by now. By the heels filling the boarding cubbies, Anna conjured a mental picture of the ones missing: high, gorgeous, and uncomfortable. She scooted aside sections of dresses and knocked on the wood, listening for any hollow planks. Nothing. Standing on her toes, she reached for a high shelf and pulled down a few empty shoeboxes. One made her raise a brow. Gray sneakers.

  She lowered down and studied all the shoes in the cubbies. Stroking her chin, she spotted a cubby with black sneakers and a cubby with white. Anna took the box with her, doing a final preliminary check of the closet.

  “Trisha?”

  The woman entered. “Finished?”

  “Not quite. What do you know about these?” Anna held up the empty shoebox.

  Trisha studied it for a moment. “Oh, those. Keisha loved them, but they got scuffed a few weeks back. I--this will sound horrible--I threw them out.” Trisha blushed. “In hindsight, I should’ve taken them to the Salvation Army.”

  “When I was Keisha’s age, I loved heels but I hated how they felt. Is there any chance she could’ve fished her sneakers out of the trash?”

  “It’s possible,” Trisha said with uncertainty. “May I ask why it matters?”

  “Your daughter left her heels behind when she vanished. I’m thinking she might have had a backup pair of comfy shoes. She came home before the Saturday night show, right?”

  “Yes. But she wouldn’t run away in the middle of the night.”

  “It’s just a theory.”

  Anna proceeded to search the dresser and TV stand. She discovered a number of handheld video games but no portable console. “Does Keisha play a lot of games?”

  “An hour a day and during car rides,” Avery explained from the hallway. “Otherwise, we can’t get her away from the darn thing.”

  Anna knelt before the bookshelf. She ran her finger across the books, collecting a fine layer of dust. Housekeeper has been slacking off. She stopped at Bunnicula. No dust. Read recently. With a finger, she pulled the book forth and removed it and the ones beside it from the shelf. She reached in and pulled out a small pink notebook. Anna flipped through the pages. Dates, complaints, and song lyrics. A diary. Exactly what she was looking for.

  “Is that…?” Avery asked. “Can I--”

  “Let her read it,” Trisha interrupted.

  Reluctant, Avery gestured for Anna to read on. “If there’s anything condemning in there, you’ll tell me, right?”

  Anna smiled slyly at him, knowing that the joke was backed by truth. As an avid reader, she burned through the doodle-covered pages within moments, seeking out recurring themes. Keisha loved the simple things in life: nature, chocolate, and animals. She complained about rigorous piano practice and harbored some insecurity that “Mom and Dad won’t understand.” She wrote about a boy she liked from school, Joshua--Anna took note of that name--and about visiting her grandmother. The only one she claimed to understand her.

  Anna looked up from the notebook. “Does Trisha’s grandmoth
er live nearby?”

  “Yeah, she lives on Prospect,” Avery said with slight annoyance. “But I’d rather not get her involved in this. She’s very… opinionated. She doesn’t even attend Kei’s shows.”

  Prospect Street was northwest of here. Anna knew a quick way to get there. “Do you mind if I hang on to the notebook?”

  “If it helps,” Trisha said. “Is there anything inside that we should be concerned about?”

  “Nothing life-changing. Once I scan the pages, I’ll let you have it back.”

  Anna pocketed the notebook, planning on running it through her state-of-the-art keyword software for any hidden gems or cryptography.

  She did a final check up on the bathroom, kitchen, and backyard, filling her phone’s memory bank with dozens of phones. Thanking the Rines for their time, Anna climbed into her truck.

  “Oh,” Anna said before leaving the driveway. “You said the back door of your BMW was open?”

  “Yes,” Avery replied.

  “Did the police check for fingerprints?”

  “They’re on it.”

  Anna nodded, thanked them again, and drove off. In the rearview mirror, Avery wrapped his arm around Trisha’s shoulder and watched Anna leave.

  Her truck bumped down the road and headed to King’s Opera House. She passed through Van Buren’s historical downtown. On both sides, red brick Victorian-style buildings seamlessly coupled together, preserving the old rough-and-tumble river town aesthetic. Anna caught glimpses of her childhood, from enjoying the local cuisine stocked by the Arkansas River only blocks away to exploring the various antique shops with her father. She even skipped class once or twice to smooch Ronald Greenbell, the sheriff’s son, by the train tracks. Anna shook her head at the corniness of the whole situation.

  Looking more like an old general store than a theatre, King’s Opera House came up on her right. It was a small, well-preserved venue that was condemned to show the same historical town plays until the end of time. Until Keisha Rines, that is. The Opera House connected with a similar two-story brick building that had seen better days. It faced a coffee shop and funeral home along with a few mom-and-pop shops.