Arden nodded. “I just wanted to ask Lindsey a few brief questions about the events leading up to the disappearance of Jessica Carmon.”
Janice frowned heavily. “Are you implicating my daughter in that girl’s disappearance?”
Alex gave her a reassuring touch on her arm. “Let the lady ask her questions, dear.”
Arden smiled weakly. “I want to talk about someone she may have seen in the days leading up to the abduction.”
Arden handed the file to Lindsey. “Do you recognize any of these men? Look carefully. This is very important.”
Lindsey looked over them and then hesitated. “I’ve never seen them.”
“You sure?” Arden asked.
Lindsey closed the file. “Uh huh. Anything else?”
Arden felt awkward talking only to the girl while her parents were there. “Did you notice anything else days prior to Halloween?”
“Everything was normal,” Lindsey said, getting annoyed.
Her parent silently glared at Arden. They didn’t want her here.
Arden continued her questioning. “What about the man you saw outside the track field?” She felt like a broken record asking the same question over and over again, but it was her only strong lead to go off of until the vice detectives found out what that rocket ship symbol meant.
Lindsey went stiff for a moment. “You’ve got me mixed up with Ashlyn.”
“She said you were all there.”
“She was lying.”
Arden breathed deeply out of her nose.
Alex spoke up. “What seems to be the issue?”
“I believe someone was stalking Jessica days before she vanished. I want to find out who and why,” Arden answered objectively. “If Lindsey has seen anyone, I need to know about it.”
As she was talking, she felt her phone vibrate. She drew it out of her pocket just enough to see the screen. It was Detective Dawkins. She let it go to voicemail.
Alex turned to his daughter. “Answer the lady. Did you see anyone?”
“Dad, I--”
“Did you or did you not?” Alex asked.
Lindsey glared at Arden. “I didn’t.”
Alex turned to Arden. “There you have it.”
Arden pulled out her business card. “If you remember anything else, call me.”
Arden left the Heedman house disappointed. The three of them watched Arden pull out of the driveway before returning inside. She wondered why Lindsey would lie to her. The teenager knew something, but what? Arden could ask questions all day long, but what she needed action. She called Dawkins back.
Dawkins answered with his typical annoyance. “There she is. I was starting to get worried you didn’t love me.”
“Tell me what’s up,” Arden replied, keeping one hand on the steering wheel.
“We have takeoff,” Dawkins replied.
Arden was confused. “What?”
“We found the rocket ship,” Dawkins explained plainly.
“Oh,” Arden replied, masking her excitement. It was an answered prayer that they should keep this case’s momentum going. “Where?”
“Orbit Laundromat,” Dawkins replied. “And get this. It’s next to a Greyhound bus stop and an abandoned factory.”
“Sounds like a nice front for a smuggling operation.”
“I agree. We’re going to get a team ready to scout it out. If it looks promising, we’re going to raid it,” Dawkins explained. “Oh, and you’re invited.”
“Thanks, but what do I do now?” Arden asked.
“Rest up. We’ll be hitting it soon.”
Arden took his advice and headed back to her office. Before taking a nap, she spent some time reading the Word and in prayer. She’d never been on a raid before and needed all the help she could get.
She fell asleep with her face in the margins of the Bible. When she got up, her phone was buzzing. Before she could rub the sleep from her eyes, she answered. It was Dawkins, speaking quickly and with energy.
“Briar,” Dawkins said.
Arden immediately sat. “It’s time?”
“Yep. Meet us at the police station.”
“Can I bring my own car?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Dawkins replied.
“If I need to go, I’d like to have it,” Arden said.
“Whatever makes you happy, just get over here quickly.”
She hung up. After brushing her hair with her fingers, she grabbed her jacket and headed out of the door.
She arrived at the police station and took the Kevlar vest they provided for her. She tightened the straps around her waist until she could barely breathe.
Kovac was all business. She wore a hard face and a ponytail. “Stay out of sight and out of mind. You can only enter after we yell clear. You must do everything I say. If you don’t, you could jeopardize the whole operation. Understand?”
“Completely,” Arden replied.
Dawkins mouthed, “You’ll do fine.”
Unlike like Kovac’s neatness, the tail of Dawkins’s uniform rippled at the bottom of his vest, his hair was a mess, and he smelled of body odor.
Kovac and Dawkins got into their squad car and folded into the pack of police cars, armored vans, and SWAT vehicles on its way to stop the biggest smuggling operation this city had ever seen.
It was still very late. Pregnant rain clouds hid the moon and stars. There was probably still two hours before daylight.
Arden’s Lincoln Town Car trailed a few car lengths behind. With every turn, she felt her stomach drop. At every stoplight they ran through, her heart raced.
The laundromat was how Dawkins had described. It was a long cruddy building with a glowing sign that had most of its letters burnt out. Next to it was the old shoe factory that had suffered some burn damage in the fifties and was never reopened. Lastly, there was the Greyhound bus stop. Arden imagined that very few people got out at this stop. It was an area even the police feared to tread. Though it looked quiet tonight, Arden imagined there was rampant drug usage that occurred all around here.
The SWAT truck arrived at their intended destination. There were a few cars parked outside the laundromat that had a “closed” sign on the door, but there were lights on inside.
Arden parked a ways down the road. She watched the SWAT trucks park. The SWAT members got out and started swarming the place. They smashed the glass door with the battering ram and charged inside. The owner stepped out of his office, yelled a few curse words, and then tried to run back into his office. He was quickly subdued.
At the same time, the second team, including Detectives Kovac and Dawkins, rushed into the abandoned warehouse. There were muzzle flashes, shouts, and chaos within the windows of the dark building. Not allowed to enter, Arden prayed for the cops’ safety as they ran through the buildings like an unleashed tornado.
Out of the back of the abandoned building, Arden saw a small band of hooligans make a run for it. They quickly evaded the helicopter searchlight and dashed for the road. With Kovac and Dawkins nowhere in sight, Arden, taking her spike brush and stun gun, ran to confront them.
The four men on the run were dressed in baggy clothes and hoodies. One of them pulled a girl along with them. They had not seen Arden yet. She used that to her advantage and stuck to the back roads and shadows. She dashed through short lawns and down alleyways. From a few of the houses, bass from rap music leaked through the walls. An unseen dog barked from somewhere.
“Come on! Hurry!” Arden heard the men say in the distance.
She kept her stun gun low and hoped it would be enough to stop them. She vaulted over a fence, scraping her belly on the top as she pursued them. Her body screamed as she sprinted full speed to outrun them. She reached a tight alley behind a few low-income houses. There was a line of dingy cars parked in an alley. It looked like it was their getaway vehicles. These guys were smart, but Arden was smarter. She saw them approaching; she crouched and moved along the opposite side of the car that the people
were heading for. She pulled off the top of the brush and punctured the front and back tire of the first car. Keeping hidden, she did it for the next car and then the next. The thugs arrived and quickly got inside their designated vehicles. As soon as they started them, they realized they were driving on the rim.
The thugs got out of the cars and tried to run when Arden popped out behind them and shot the Taser into someone’s back. He gurgled and collapsed.
The other three turned back and drew their pistols.
Ducking behind one of the cars, Arden put in a second charge pack, leaned out, and Tased another one. The last two started shooting.
The girl they were with ran off. Arden could tell it wasn’t Jessica.
To keep from being flanked, she retreated.
She dialed Dawkins as she ran away.
It connected to his Bluetooth. “A little busy.”
“I got four runners at Fifth and Cringle Ave. Two are incapacitated. Two are on the move.”
“I’ll get someone over there.”
Ducking behind a house, Arden checked her rear flank. She was no longer being followed.
“I lost sight of them,” Arden said.
“Just hold on,” Dawkins hung up.
Wiping sweat from her brow with the top of her forearm, Arden kept a look out. Her phone buzzed. She didn’t bother looking to see who was calling.
She answered.
“I have a lead.”
“Joe?” Arden asked.
“I was doing some digging on my own,” Joe replied. “I found this report on this ice cream truck seen on Halloween. It was driving with its music off and had a white rabbit on the side of it. The last time it was spotted, it was entering the Fairbanks neighborhood,” Joe explained.
“Have you told the police yet?” Arden asked, still catching her breath.
“They’ll get in the way. I just wanted to tell you in case I don’t come back.”
“Joe, don’t do this,” Arden replied.
“Sorry, Arden. I’ll call you after I find my daughter,” Joe replied.
“Joe, wait--”
The line went dead.
Arden felt all the frustration go to her face. She realized that she had to make a choice. Stay here and see how the raid turned out, or go after Joe. Grumbling, she dashed to her vehicle.
She was seething by the time she raced over to her car. She put the vehicle shifter into drive. With her determined expression set straight ahead, she hit the accelerator and raced through Macon.
8
Rising Sun
5:19 am.
Rain fell from black skies and pelted the windshield. The wipers quickly swiped it away, revealing the orange traffic lights looming over the wet street.
Tense, Arden sat in the driver’s seat. A droplet of water slithered out her damp hair, down her freckled cheek, and hung at the corner of her sharp jaw. She was painfully aware of the pistol in her glove box, though she dared not even look that way. She silently asked for guidance as she neared Adam’s Avenue. Her thoughts ran a million different ways. Finding Joe was her main priority.
She’d tried calling him a half-dozen more times, but he didn’t answer.
Her headlights sliced through the rain and darkness as she slowly cruised down the streets. Her bloodshot amber eyes scanned the various driveways. Single-story brick homes dotted the sides of the road. Deep puddles filled uneven curbsides. Arden’s wheels cut through one. The wave slashed over the vehicle and blinded her for a moment.
The engine sputtered.
The clunker slowed down despite Arden’s foot on the accelerator.
She pursed her lips in frustration as the vehicle rolled to a rumbling stop by the curbside. She turned off the engine and then turned it back on. It sputtered and died.
“Lord,” she said with frustration.
Three minutes of trying to troubleshoot her situation reminded Arden about how little she actually knew about automobiles.
She looked to the glove box. A moment of hesitation passed. She opened the glove box and pulled out the pistol. She clipped it to her belt, grabbed a collapsible umbrella from under the seat, and opened the door. She stepped into a deep puddle that submerged her foot all the way to her ankle. She quickly closed the door and moved to the sidewalk. Using the light from her cell phone and holding the umbrella in the other hand, she headed down the sidewalk.
Joe never gave her the address. She needed to find his car.
The rain picked up. She tried calling Joe. This time, her call went straight to voicemail. Taking a deep breath, she looked back at her clunker. She wondered if she should just get a tow and go back. Despite her negative outlook, she kept traveling down the sidewalk. The rain pattered on the umbrella. Water sloshed around her wet sock.
Around the corner of the street, she saw a black ‘04 Mustang. Turning off her light, she approached it. Judging by the pillow and blanket in the backseat, it was Joe’s. It was parked outside one of the generic, single-story homes. The rain water made the red brick look like the color of old blood. The residence was void of light. The driveway was empty. The garage was built into the side of the house.
She stayed under the awning and tried the doorknob. It was locked. There were three upright rectangular panels of glass on the front door. The glass was fogged though. Arden went around the side of the house. The windows were barred from the inside and the curtains prevented any view of the interior. She made her way around the back. Her boots sank into mud and puddles. The backyard had a dip in it that was quickly filling with water. There was an old tree that swayed in the storm. The back door was locked as well. She completed a 360 around the house and found that every window was barred and there was no way inside.
As a last-ditch effort to break in without picking the lock, Arden grabbed the garage door and pulled it up. It opened two feet before stopping. Something inside prevented it from going up any farther.
Arden collapsed the umbrella. Chilling rain quickly drenched her. She set the umbrella upright and placed it beneath the garage door. It was successful at holding it up. Arden got to her belly and wiggled under the small gap. When she was under, she held the garage door open with one hand and snatched the umbrella with the other. She removed it and let the garage door fall slowly shut. The pitter-patter of the storm sounded on the roof. Arden stood up. Tears of water slipped down her face. More puddled around her feet. She noticed the vice grip on the garage door slider. It had been placed there to keep anyone from lifting it. Arden got lucky.
Teeth chattering, Arden turned her light back on and illuminated the garage. An ice cream truck sat in the middle. It had decals of different treats on the side of it. Arden flashed the light over the toolbox, bottles of weed killer, and bleach.
She sent Derrick a text, telling him the address and to come in thirty minutes if he didn’t receive a follow-up text.
A wet footprint followed in her wake as she headed toward the inside door. She twisted the knob. Click. The door opened. It was unlocked. She stepped into the kitchen. The place looked largely uninhabited. There were no pictures on the wall, only a handful of plates in the cupboards, and the furniture was cheap and minimal.
Arden tracked across the wood floor. She kept her hand near her gun but didn’t draw it yet. She had a feeling she wasn’t alone. She kept forward, proceeding to the nearest closed door. Its two locks held it shut. However, both master locks were only slipped through the latch ring and not fully locked. Arden removed them one by one and tucked them away. She then opened the door and faced the rickety stairs into the basement.
Using her phone light to illuminate her feet, she descended. She glanced around at the various support beams erected throughout the room. The place appeared to be empty. There was another door at the end of the basement. As Arden approached, she felt her skin crawl. There were certain places she could just sense were bad. This was one of those places.
Arden drew out her pistol. She kept the safety on and her finger off the
trigger. One step at a time, she reached the door.
It opened into a small room with a mattress on the floor. There was a TV tray with a paper plate and plastic cup set out nearby. A girl huddled in the back corner. Long hair streamed down over her face. Her orange turtleneck was smeared with dirt. Her leggings had tears in the knees. She trembled lightly. She hugged her knees close to her chest. Arden paused for a moment. She could hardly believe what she was seeing.
Almost scared to speak, Arden said, “Jessica?”
The girl turned to her. One eye could be seen through the sea of hair streaming over her face. Arden kept her weapon low.
The girl further hid herself in the corner.
Arden took a step into the room. “Shh. Hey, hey, I’m here to get you--”
Something moved in the corner of Arden’s eyes. She turned just in time to see the baseball bat slam into her nose.
Pain erupted across her face.
She blinked and was on the floor.
Warm blood spilled out of both nostrils. Tears ran from her eyes. The world around her spun.
A man wearing a blue and white polo, khakis, and a bunny mask loomed over her. His gloved hands gripped a baseball bat.
Arden realized she’d lost her pistol. She reached for it and took another hit to the stomach.
She curled up in pain. Her cry for help was broken and windless. The man grabbed Arden’s pistol and stuck it in the back of his pants. Arden fought to move, but the pain immobilized her. The man crouched over her. She pushed at him, but her attacks were too weak. The man effortlessly reached into her pockets and pulled out her phone, wallet, and keys. Arden squeezed the rubber nose of the man’s mask as he went to stand. He kicked Arden and stood up straight.
Arden felt herself fading out of consciousness. She blinked and her hands were zip tied. She didn’t know how much time she had just lost. She tried to stay conscious, but her sight escaped her.
Soon, the world was darkness.
She felt her back being dragged against the ruthlessly cold basement floor.
Her vision returned just long enough to see the man pulling her legs.
Secrets Boxset: A Riveting Kidnapping Mystery Collection Page 8
