Anna parked in front and stepped out, shielding her eyes with her hand. At three in the afternoon, she didn’t see many locals on the sidewalks. She opened the Chevy’s backdoor and pulled out the large black ruggedized case from the backseat’s foot gutter. A tape strip labeled “Anna’s Toy Box” stamped the outside.
Wind tugged at a Missing Persons poster stuck on a lamppost. From the white page, Keisha smiled at the world. Anna chewed her gum as she studied the photo. Child prodigy vanishes one night. No witness, no demands, and no clues apart from a pair of purple heels.
Anna crossed the street and entered the large parking lot behind the adjacent strip mall. The Rines said they rented it out to accommodate the visiting patrons because the Opera House’s lot was little more than grass and gravel. Law enforcement swept both sites a little over twenty-four hours ago when Trisha called them around 1 a.m. Saturday. Nonetheless, Anna brought her “Toy Box.” It was a trusty portable forensics lab fit with a Toughbook evidence laptop, swabs, paper bags, tubes, and all sorts of other gizmos she’d bought off her good old friend Allen--a slightly sketchy forensic scientist back in Miami.
Going to the far end where the Rines had parked, Anna rested her hand on her hip and looked around. Sixth Street was to the east. The potential abductor could’ve driven in that way, grabbed the girl, and sped into the night. Unlikely, Anna thought as she looked to the sidewalk to where Avery and Trisha had spoken to the enthusiastic patron. They would’ve seen their daughter and any potential abductor.
Anna turned to the west. Across the street and connecting to the Opera House was an abandoned building and beside it, most curiously, the Crawford County Sheriff’s Office. If she went that far, the police would’ve caught her on their security cameras. Southwest was the Opera House, and directly south was the bland rear of the pharmacy and strip mall. They had parking lot cameras too. Anna wondered why the Rines didn’t mention that. She faced directly north, to the train tracks running across a large mound, passing over a rusty metal road bridge and trailing into the distance.
She hiked up the grassy bank and walked along the tracks. Trees and a few suburban backyards were visible down the other side. It had to be this way. She pulled out her phone, snapping a few pictures of each direction, and emailed them to herself. She researched the train times on their website. It stopped running hours before the “abduction.” Today, it stopped around noon.
Using her foot, Anna swept the gravel between each wooden slat of the track. She started east as it was easiest route for the abductor to take. After an hour of monotony and a practice in patience, she went west. Passing by the Opera House and police station, she entered into a wooded area of the tracks. The surrounding buildings were barely visible through the tree line and whatever cameras they had wouldn’t see this far out. As Anna contemplated her distance, she heard the jingle. Kneeling down, she spotted the dusty silver bell pressed into the gravel.
Anna’s eyes went wide. She searched her phone for the pictures taken at the Rines’s house. Zooming in on the family portrait, Keisha wore two silver bells in her hair. More than coincidence. Flipping open her kit, she removed a set of gloves and gingerly lifted the bell into the sunlight, catching a glimpse of something inside. With her fingernails, she removed a long gray hair. Things just got interesting.
Popping open a long evidence tube, Anna carefully guided the hair inside. It was too long to be from anywhere but the scalp. She sealed the capsule and slid it into its designated holder within her Toy Box. Closing up the latches on the black box, Anna rose to her feet and swept the dust off her slacks. Feeling her heart race, she followed the tracks all the way to the Arkansas River. Finding no other clues, she returned to the Opera House, knowing one thing for sure. Keisha hadn’t been on her own the night she vanished.
The King’s Opera House smelled of clove. The foyer was largely open with two doors leading into the theatre, bathrooms, and a receptionist desk. Anna entered. In the cool air-conditioned room, she realized how sweaty the walk had made her.
Judging by his acne and faint mustache, the boy behind the desk was around sixteen or seventeen. He glanced up from his phone to check out Anna walking in and returned to his texting.
Anna stopped at the desk and flipped open her wallet, showing off her P.I. license within. “I was wondering if I might see the video footage from Saturday night?”
It would have a better view of the train tracks than the parking lot. The pharmacy camera revealed the Rines talking to the woman, but the BMW was at the edge of screen, hiding the driver’s side and Keisha’s door. Anna wasn’t surprised. If it revealed everything, the Rines wouldn’t have needed her.
The boy lowered his phone and eyed her suspiciously. “You a cop?”
“No.” Anna closed her wallet. “Private investigator.”
“You're looking for the girl? Is it true she’s been kidnapped?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. The footage will help.”
The boy scratched the back of his head. “About that… we had some trouble Friday and Saturday night. The camera’s cut off. Some hardware glitch, I’m guessing. We gave the surviving video to the sheriff.”
No camera, no witness. If not for the bell, it would be the perfect storm. The Rines might be right. Anna didn’t like that thought, but she kept an open mind. Jumping to hard conclusions was a slippery slope in her line of work. “Do you know anyone who could have tampered with the cameras?”
The boy thought for a moment. “Not that I can think of. The place looks good, but there’s always stuff breaking.”
Anna sought out the building manager, janitor, and a few of the aspiring actors. They backed up the boy’s story: the cameras were junk, but having them break on the night of the abduction felt too coincidental. The sheriff’s office had footage for the last couple of days but even with her father’s influence, they wouldn’t grant her access to the investigation property unless she hopped on as a consultant. Anna jotted down a note and stepped outside.
She noticed the funeral home across the street. Long shot.
The mortician was a solitary man with gaunt cheeks and ghoulish eyes that made him surprisingly fitting for his occupation. His face lit up when he saw Anna. “Dedrick. My gosh, has it been a long time.”
Anna smiled at him. Fourteen years ago, he had helped with her mother’s funeral arrangements and witnessed her brother Evan walk away to never return. They didn’t talk about it, and they wouldn’t talk about it now. “Hey, Pete.”
“You’re back from Miami?”
“Came back last night. I’m working as a P.I. now.”
“The regular Sherlock Holmes. What can I do for you?” Pete’s eyes went soft and sympathetic as mourners did. “Is it your father?”
“No, Peter, and hopefully not anytime soon.”
“Right, sorry. Most of the people passing by are, well, dealing with the loss of their loved ones.”
“I’m wondering if you noticed anything strange Saturday night?”
“Keisha Rines was in town. That girl can play a piano. I hear she’s missing.”
Anna nodded. “Last seen at the back of the Opera House. I was wondering if I could look at your camera footage from that night?”
“Of course. Yeah. Come on back.”
Pete led her past the room of display caskets and into the cramped security office. The mortician took a seat and shuffled through the VHS tapes. “It’s been ten years since I replaced this thing. I need to go digital.”
“It helps,” Anna said. “How’s business?”
Pete made a straight face. “Killer.” Then smiled.
“That was bad, even by your standards.”
Pete shrugged. “You can be a deadbeat in my line of work.”
“Please, lord, stop.”
“You opened that door. It’s all on you.” With a cheeky grin, the tall man removed the tape labeled Saturday and put it into the VHS. “What time?”
“8p.m.”
The tape fast-forwarded on the old monitor. Time lapsed at the front doors of the Opera House until it was night and patrons were filing into the venue.
“Speed up,” Anna asked.
The patrons buzzed into the doors at comically fast speeds. A few people lingered outside, enjoying a smoke. The screen reflected in Anna’s eyes. “Stop.”
Pete pressed pause.
“Rewind.”
Anna’s eye bounced back and forth. “Pause it.”
She leaned over his shoulder and squinted. Her fingernail tapped the screen. “There.”
Pete focused on the spot. “I don’t…”
Pulling out her phone, Anna checked her pictures from the Rines’s house. She stopped swiping at a family photo of Keisha and her grandmother. The same frizzled-haired woman on the television before her. “Tell me they are not the same person.”
Pete studied Anna’s phone and the screen. “Sure are.” He looked up at Anna with his cool steel eyes. “You think grandma took the little starlet?”
Anna’s gaze lingered on the TV. She clicked play on the remote in Pete’s hand. Dressed in black, the plump old woman shifted her head both ways before peeking into the Opera House window. She turned back to the road, hopped into her old brown Buick, and drove north on 5th Street.
“I intend to find out.” She gave Pete a quick hug and bustled out of the funeral home.
“Be careful,” Anna heard Pete shout before the door closed behind her.
She could see the headline now: Grandma kidnaps child prodigy to save her from a life of fame and fortune. Looking both ways, she crossed the street and climbed into her truck. She turned the ignition and froze.
Down the street, a figure watched her from within an early nineties muddy-orange Corvette. The car revved. Its tires spun, screamed, and set the vehicle speeding in the opposite direction. Anna eyed it as it vanished. As a P.I., she wasn’t legally allowed to run plates without reason, but she jotted them down anyway. It might be something to look into later.
Avery and Trisha didn’t want her to bother family, but they’d thank her if she found a lead. Pulling up Yellow Pages on her phone, Anna input Trisha’s maiden name, Santos, and let the search engine do the rest. Within seconds, she had the address.
Prospect Street was only a mile from the King’s Opera House. It was a back road inches out of reach from the historic downtown. Anna hiked up the porch to the single-story house with fading yellow paint, worn shingled roof, and an overgrown lawn. The place didn’t follow the train tracks, but it was on the same trajectory as the silver bell.
Anna knocked. The woman answered, giving her the eye through the screen door. Mrs. Santos wore a bright colored dress that bloomed out down her short body. She had frizzy gray hair still dark at the root and thick glasses. “Can I help you?”
Anna showed her the P.I. license. Santos glared at it with scrutiny. “My name is Anna Dedrick. I’m looking for your granddaughter.”
“It’s about damn time.” The woman turned back and walked into the dark house. “Waiting on Christmas?”
Taking that as an invitation, Anna opened the door. “Thank you.”
The house was simply designed with a kitchen, living room, and master and guest bedrooms. The wallpaper could use some touching up but apart from that, the place was fairly clean.
“There’s a couch in the den. Have a seat.” Santos said from the kitchen. “I’ll put on some tea.”
Anna strolled around the living room, looking for anything out of the ordinary. A handheld gaming system caught her eye. She remembered the game cartridges found in Keisha’s room. While Mrs. Santos boiled water, Anna explored the shelves and peeked under the couch nearby. Tucked behind a few dust bunnies and loose change was a child’s sock.
After a moment, the elderly woman entered the den with two steamy mugs. Anna was sitting on the couch with her hands resting innocently on her lap. She accepted one of the mugs. “Smells great.”
The woman plopped down on the recliner, taking a sip. “I told them. I told them. I told them. Putting that sweet child on stage would be nothing but trouble. They don’t listen, not when it comes to their cash cow.”
“I take it you didn’t approve of Keisha’s career choice.” Anna blew on the tea.
“Career choice? She’s eleven years old! Now, I’ll support my granddaughter until the day I die, but parading her on stage and dressing her up like harlot, that’s an invitation to the devil. I’m honestly surprised she didn’t vanish sooner. I blame that man of Trisha’s. Handsome as sin. Ambitious. Works the girl until her little fingers bleed. I’d give him a piece of my mind if he’d be man enough to show his face. You know, you’re the first one to see me since Kei went missing? Trisha gave me a call, but that ain’t nothing. Not even the sheriff stopped by.”
“Does Keisha spend a lot of time here?”
Mrs. Santos nodded. “Some. Trisha would drop her off from school. I let her run around, play her little video game. Let her be a kid for five minutes. There’s times when she don’t want to leave, begging me to keep her with her pretty puppy dog eyes.”
Anna sipped from her mug, enjoying the chamomile taste. “You ever attend her shows?”
“When she’s praising the Lord at church, I’m the first in the building.” Mrs Santos sat back. “But I don’t support that stage. Lord have mercy, there are too many boys and girls that get big fake smiles and little rotten hearts. My Keisha deserves better than that.”
“How about Saturday?” Anna asked, treading lightly. “She was practically right next door.”
Mrs. Santos stared at her for a moment. “Trisha invited me, but I had to take a stand. I would be lying to say it didn’t hurt. At one point, I overcame to the temptation and peeked inside. I was only able to see the foyer. I felt like a fool.”
“Did you ever come back after the show was finished?”
The old woman furrowed her brow. “Am I a suspect?”
“I’m just going through the motions, ma’am,” Anna apologized.
“Well, keep going. I was out late with my bingo buddies. Before you get angsty, we start late and we play late. I got pictures to prove it.” She grabbed her flip phone and gave it to Anna. Albeit out of focus, the pictures and time stamps were there. “You know,” Mrs. Santos continued. “I didn’t even know she was missing until after Sunday church? Can you believe that? My own daughter didn’t tell me for over twelve hours.”
Tears welled in Mrs. Santos eyes. Suddenly, she lurched over. Her round face scrunched together while tears streamed down her cheeks. “Oh Lord, why did you have to take such an innocent child? She didn’t do no wrong.”
Taken aback by the unexpected emotional outburst, Anna grabbed the tissue box from the side table and handed them to the woman. She blew her nose, sniffled, and took Anna’s hand. Her teary eyes locked on the private investigator. “You find the monster that took her and you get my granddaughter back. Promise me. Promise this ol’ bag of bones.”
“I’ll get her back,” Anna assured her. “I’ll get Keisha back.”
It was night when Anna neared her father’s house. Almost forty-eight hours had passed since Keisha Rines had vanished. The percentile of finding her would drop considerably by morning. In a case of this caliber, the press would get involved too. Anna squeezed the steering wheel, remembering the flashing camera strobes on her bloody body as she carried the skeletal fourteen-year-old girl from the Dade County townhouse. The past stays in the past. It was the biggest lie she ever told herself.
As she neared the driveway, Anna spotted a sedan parked next to her father’s maroon red truck. Her dashboard clock read 10:02 p.m. The house was dark apart from the greeting light above the front door. With a suspicious look, Anna parked her Chevy next to her father’s truck and stepped out, grabbing her forensics kit from the backseat.
She jiggled the door handle, finding it unlocked. She entered. “Dad?”
No reply.
She stepped farther into t
he living room. Her father’s recliner had been set back fully. Her hand crept across the wall, finding the light switch. She flipped it on. With his mouth agape and eyes closed, Richard rested on the recliner. He snored.
Anna took a breath.
There was a noise in the kitchen.
She placed her kit on the floor and proceeded forward with silent steps. She entered the tiled-floor kitchen, expecting one of her father’s lady friends. On the counter, the junky coffee maker rumbled and spit black sludge into the pot. The open refrigerator door obscured the man bent over behind it. Glass clinked against glass. The man mumbled something.
Anna turned on the light.
The man pulled himself from the icebox, letting the cold tumble around his feet like graveyard mist. Beneath haunted brown eyes, the stranger had a goatee and a curved scar on his left cheek. “Hey sis.”
4
At the Doorstep
Bewildered, Anna took a step back. Hundreds of memories and emotions hit her like a train.
The man closed the refrigerator. He tilted the bottle of whiskey in his hand to Anna. “Dad’s been holding out on us.”
“Evan?” Anna said, unsure if she should hug him, shake his hand, or punch him across the jaw. She stared instead. The familiar stranger wore faded Levi’s and a weathered lumberjack’s flannel over his fit body that Anna remembered to be scrawny and frail.
“You like coffee?” Evan asked as he fetched two black mugs from the cupboard. “I’m making Irish.”
Not waiting for her response, he filled them with scalding hot coffee and poured in two shots worth of whisky in each.
“What are you…” Anna’s eyes watered. “It’s been fourteen years.”
Evan extended the hot mug, handle side out. “Drink up.”
Anna accepted it and accidentally brushed her finger against the outer mug. She winced at the heat. “Where did you go? Where have you been all this time?”
Evan leaned against the countertop and sipped his beverage. “All over. Washington. Nevada. Tennessee. Got them all but Hawaii.”
Secrets Boxset: A Riveting Kidnapping Mystery Collection Page 37