Gracie continued. “Scarlet wasn’t going to be like that. She was going to live her dream.”
As much as Arden hated to say it, she said. “Was it really her dream?”
Gracie cried more than Arden had ever seen anyone, and she’d dealt with a lot of broken people.
Arden held her tight.
Through her brokenness, Gracie said. “I just want her to come home. Even if she never acts again. I just want her to come home.”
Arden wanted to make her a promise. She wanted to say that the little girl would get home without a single bruise. But there was real evil in this world. At a loss of what to say, she silently asked her Creator. Feeling like she got a download, but not one hundred percent sure, Arden said, “God is your strength.” Arden repeated it again and then held the woman until she was completely spent of tears.
They sat on the corner of Scarlet’s bed. Arden had her arm around Gracie’s shoulder as the woman rested her head on Arden’s shoulder. They both looked straight ahead but at nothing in particular. Joe didn’t say anything. Arden silently prayed, asking the Lord to comfort the woman.
Gracie sniffled. “I’m a horrible person, aren’t I?”
“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of,” Arden replied.
Gracie finally stood up and wiped her face with the top of her arm. It was completely unladylike, but she was beyond caring.
Arden stood up in front of her.
Suddenly, Gracie gave her another hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
Arden hugged her back. “This world says to be strong, but that’s only putting a band-aid over a lethal wound. Call to Jesus. He’ll take care of it.”
Gracie kept hugging her. She didn’t say anything. Arden could tell that the woman was about to fall asleep. Without much more to gain from the house, Joe and Arden decided to head back to the office. They started with Gracie’s list and started making phone calls. Half of the people didn’t pick up, and the rest had already talked to the police. Going over the list, most of the people were part of the film production and were at the party. A lot of them had alibis and were just as discombobulated that their starlet was gone. After all, no Scarlet meant no Broken Roses.
Arden spent a lot of the remaining daylight hours hunched over her computer. She researched the different members of production, looking at their social media profiles and personal blogs. Some of them were into some New Age spiritualism and other gnostic beliefs. There was nothing blatantly condemning.
It was near sunset when she got a call back from the producer, Garold Grey. He asked to video chat. Arden agreed and had Joe come into her office. His eyes were bloodshot from looking at the computer for so long.
They sat next to each other with the view of the Atlanta skyline at their back as they waited for Garold to connect.
He did, revealing his study. There was a 1930s typewriter next to him. Behind him was a shelf of trophies and a marble bust of an old man. He wore a necklace with a dotted “T” symbol on it. Across the walls were pictures of him standing next to Steven Spielberg and other A-List movie people. The room had rich, dark wood.
Garold was a grey-haired man with soft blue eyes. He wore a sports jacket with pitched shoulders over a V-neck. He had an earring and a mellow vibe about him. Arden could tell the guy was a Hollywood guy.
“Good evening, Investigators.”
“You too, Mr. Grey,” Arden replied. “Thank you for returning our call at such short notice.”
“Things have been wild on my end,” Garold said. “My show is about fall apart because this girl is gone. I have the network chewing me up, a director who is starting to look for other projects, and a screenplay writer that’s on a drinking binge.”
Joe said. “Hey, at least the show had a good send off.”
Garold glared. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
“All I’m saying is that her becoming the heiress to the family estate leaves a lot of room for interpretation. The good kind though,” Joe said.
Garold sighed. “Sure, pal. Look, whatever I can do to find the girl, the better.”
“Tell me about the night she went missing,” Arden said.
“It was a good night. The food was good. The party had a great turnout. I’m sure you already know all about it.”
“I want to hear your side of it,” Arden pressed.
“I spent most of the time seated on the front left. About two tables down from Scarlet. I was invited onstage with her during the speech. I talked about the typical stuff. Even roasted the director a bit. Then we ate. I stayed around until 11 or so before heading out.”
“Was Scarlet still in the room at that time?”
“Yep, she was seated at the table while her parents socialized. Poor girl was bored out of her mind.”
“Was there anything strange or off about that night?”
“Same old same old,” Garold replied.
“Elaborate.”
“Scarlet’s was either being shown off to somebody or bored alone,” Garold said. “Nothing was different.”
“When you left that night, were you with someone?”
“Yes. Some of our investors,” Garold said.
“Where did you go?”
“Am I a suspect?” Garold asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Arden replied honestly.
Garold took a deep breath. “I left the hotel and then met them on the street. They picked me up and I enjoyed the house party. Their names are David Miles, Herney Blake, Tevin Smith, and Yusif Kapor.”
Arden took note of the names. “Can I have their numbers?”
Joe checked Gracie’s list. “They’re already on here.”
Arden turned her attention back to the screen. “Garold, how did you leave the hotel?”
“Out the front door,” Garold replied as if it were the most obvious question in the world.
“Did you take the elevator or the stairs?” Arden asked.
Garold paused for a moment. “Stairs. Why are you asking me this? Doesn’t the hotel have a camera?”
“It does,” Arden replied. “Was there anyone that you saw treating Scarlet strangely? Maybe they looked at her for long periods of time or said strange things about her.”
Garold shrugged. “I don’t know. There was this… Ah, never mind.”
Arden straightened up her posture. “What?”
“It’s nothing. Look, the last thing I want is to start a witch hunt,” Garold said.
Joe said. “Just say it, Garold.”
Garold hesitated for a moment. “Everyone at the party seemed solid, right?” he asked rhetorically. “Well, as the party started to wrap up, a stranger came into the room. I’m not talking about a caterer. I remember most faces. It’s part of my job. There was this guy that came in. I don’t know if he was one of the hotel guests or what, but he wore a suit and just waltzed right in as people were leaving. It was almost like he was a ghost.”
“What did he do?” Arden asked.
Garold shrugged. “He took a lap around the room and left.”
That puzzled Arden. “Why?”
“I can’t say, but that’s what I saw,” Garold said.
Arden took in the information. Joe asked Garold about the rest of the night. Garold didn’t have photo evidence, but he said that the other guys would vouch for him.
After their talk, Arden contacted the police. She inquired about the case, told them of her involvement with the investigation, and asked to see the video footage. The detective in charge told her how she had to pass through the right legal channels and yada yada yada.
“Look,” Arden said, after linking the detective to her certified website and showing off her credentials. “We’re both on the same side here. This is about a little girl’s life. If you’re worried I’m going to steal the glory, trust me, I don’t want it. So can you just send over the footage?”
After ten more minutes of useless chatter, the detective finally allow
ed her to see it. Arden and Joe got dinner after they picked up the hard drive. Arden missed her Macon detective buddies, Kovac and Dawkins. After rescuing Joe’s daughter, Arden had gotten pretty close to them. They understood the idea of breaking a few rules to save lives. Unfortunately, the Atlanta cops didn’t see Arden as one of them yet.
After eating, they returned to the office and plugged in the hard drive. Arden yawned as she watched the single camera room play out in fast-forward throughout the whole day. She got to the part where the party ended and played the video at normal speed. Just as Garold had described, a man in a suit entered. He slipped through a group of people by the door and grabbed an abandoned champagne flute to keep from raising suspicion.
By how far away from the frame he was, it was pretty obvious why the police didn’t see him. Arden almost missed him herself. He walked through the room and walked out. Arden rewound the footage and watched it again. She paused just as the suspect glanced over at Scarlet.
Was this her abductor?
5
Break-In
The blue 1993 Lincoln Town Car sat just out from under the streetlight’s orange bloom. Rust spotted the vehicle’s bulky frame. Its headlamps were dirty and there was a scratch running the length of the driver side.
Seated in the darkness of the pulled-back seat, Arden watched the low-income home. A black cap covered Arden’s head. She wore a black jacket, black pants, and black shoes. She also had a bandana around her neck that she would use to conceal her face when the time came. Joe sat next to her. He was dressed in black as well. He spied down the quiet street. The houses were single-story with about the same amount of lawn space. Dingy streetlights spotted the cracked sidewalk. In the distance, a dog barked. Police sirens sounded somewhere far away.
Arden used her night-vision binoculars to examine the house. It had a small porch with two pillars and a screen door that was peeling back. It had taken Arden a few hours to find the place. She started by learning the identity of the mysterious man via running it through a facial recognition program. Was Arden legally allowed to own such software? Not in the slightest, but years ago she pulled some strings with the Macon police, paid in cash, and kept it on a laptop that she rarely used at her home. Through no one could track her, she didn’t want to be known for having it. It turned up the name Marcus Hollenberg, who was charged with stalking another childhood star four years ago. The man worked at the local FedEx, but when Arden talked to the boss, he had called in sick a day ago and hadn’t been seen since. Arden planned on tipping off the police, but she wanted to get into his house first. As a private investigator, she had strict legal rules she had to abide by. Nevertheless, she was not under as much direct scrutiny as the police.
After watching the house for an hour and not seeing any movement or any of the lights turn on, Arden knew it was time to move. Concealing her face with the bandana, Arden got out of the Town Car and power-walked across the street. Joe, holding a pry bar close to himself, did the same.
They moved around the side of the house and vaulted over the short chain-link fence. Keeping close to the wall, they slipped around the back of the building. They reached the back door and found it to be locked. Not wanting to spend time picking the lock, Joe headed to the nearest window. At six four, he was tall enough to put leverage on the pry bar without issue. As he worked to get the window up, Arden played the part of watch guard. A cool spring breeze rustled the cloth bandana.
The wood window frame made an eeeeeeee sound as it started to snap open. Arden glared at Joe. He paused for a moment… then he kept prying. The noise only grew louder.
A dog barked.
Arden quickly turned to the neighbor’s yard.
A massive Great Dane rushed at Arden but was stopped by the wooden fence. It barked viciously and started to dig. Its paws worked quickly as Joe kept prying. More dogs started barking, and soon it seemed the whole neighborhood had turned into a chorus of barking dogs.
Snap! The window opened. Arden climbed in first and then Joe. They shut the window just as the neighbor stepped out of the back door. He was a dark-skinned man wearing boxers and holding a shotgun. He scanned the area for a moment, yelled at his dog to shut it, and then returned inside.
Pulling out tiny MAG lights, Arden and Joe glanced around the bathroom. It smelled moldy. The shower curtain had ominous dark stains, and there was a yellow streak in the tub along with hair in the drain. Across the sink were more little curly hairs.
Joe led the way. He stepped into the hallway, keeping his light aimed at the floor. He knew that Marcus wasn’t home, but he didn’t want to attract the cops. The living room had a massive shelf of DVDs, a futon, and a computer gamer desk setup. Old pizza boxes and takeout containers were strewn about the coffee table. There was a growing mound of dirty clothes that reeked of sweat. Posters of various models hung on the wall. Arden saw yellow mold in the corners of the room. Joe headed to the computer while Arden walked through the house. The kitchen was worse than the living room. There were dishes in a dirty pile in the sink. Flies crawled across the leftover food that had hardened. Inside the fridge was spoiled milk, Monster energy drinks, and a stained Tupperware container. Arden opened it and gagged. There was a literal rat inside of the container that had experienced intense blunt force trauma. Arden snapped a picture with her small camera.
Arden moved through the kitchen and into the man’s room. The bed was a mess and looked like it hadn’t been slept in for a day or two. There were more dirty clothes, and Arden had the luxury of having a fat roach scurry over her shoe. She searched the man’s closet and his dresser drawer. There was a box of 9mm ammo but no weapon present. Arden had to assume the man was armed. Next to a pack of cigarettes, a mint wrapper, and a few loose coins was a matchbox next to a lamp stand. The matchbox had the words “Smoking Pig” on the front and a cartoon image of a hog lounging next to a hookah pipe. Arden checked in the drawer and found a pile of these things. It looked like Marcus was a local.
Arden returned back to the living room.
Joe was hunched over the desk. He had a password encryption reader. The password was only five character. Marcus wasn’t very smart with his online security. Joe sifted through his pictures, finding a lot of stills from Scarlet’s show, but nothing condemning. Joe checked his search history, finding different movie news sites and other music links. The man had a lot of pirated TV as well.
Arden showed Joe the matchbox.
Joe nodded.
He shut off the computer and put the chair back to how it was. They returned to the bathroom and left out the window. Thankfully, the dogs had calmed down and they were able to get to their car without a problem. Putting away their disguises, they drove to the Smoking Pig. It was a sleazy hookah bar on the same street as two cheap motels, several bars, a strip club, and a liquor store. Arden imagined she could indulge in any vice she wanted just on these two blocks. Unsurprisingly, the sidewalks and allies were loaded with people. Just pulling up to park, Arden spotted three drug deals and a prostitute getting into a man’s car.
“God, I love humans,” Joe said and got ready to go into the cesspit of an environment.
Arden stepped out. She didn’t wear any makeup and kept her attire very reserved. Her goal was to draw as little attention as possible. Down a dark alley, Arden saw a group of thugs discussing something next to an open trunk. Tattoos painted their skin. Metal teeth glistened under the streetlight.
Arden and Joe flashed their I.D. to the bouncer and headed inside. She checked her watch. It was nearly 2am. The wide room was packed. Multiple colored lights flickered and reflected on a few walls of foggy glass. There were dozens of tables with hookah pipes on them. A haze hovered in the room. Loud music snuffed out most sound. Arden and Joe made their way up the bar and claimed two stools that had the best view of the massive room.
The bartender, a skinny man with leathery skin and fedora, offered them drinks. Arden got a Coke. Joe got the cheapest beer. They casually scanned t
heir surroundings. Not seeing Marcus, Arden turned her attention to the bartender. “I’m looking for Marcus.”
The bartender topped off her glass. “Sorry. I don’t keep track of a lot of the patrons’ names.”
Arden sipped her drink. She looked at the bartender flirtatiously. “That’s a shame. I was going to thank Marcus for the other night.”
The bartender smirked and shook his head.
Arden gestured for him to lean in, and he did so. Arden whispered into his ear. “You sure you can’t help a girl out?”
“Alright, lovely. You’re gonna have to do better than that.”
Joe slid over a hundred-dollar bill. When the bartender went to grab it, Joe kept the bill pinned to the table.
The bartender frowned. “You might be the first person ever to pay money to see that rat.”
Joe grinned. “I gotta look out for my girl.”
The bartender looked over to Arden. “He’s in the back. Be gentle, okay? He’s a recurring customer.”
Joe let go of the money. The two of them headed to the back hallway. A bouncer guarded the door. The bartender nodded at him, and he let Joe and Arden through. As they passed through the threshold, the thugs from the alley entered the front door. Something about them gave Arden a bad feeling. There were six of them. Arden kept moving ahead and stepped into the back of the Smoking Pig. There were a number of small rooms with private parties drinking and smoking. Arden reached the threshold of one and saw her target.
Marcus, a genuinely unassuming white man, sat on a half circle booth with a small table in front of him. He wore the same suit he had on since the party at the Hyatt, only it was wrinkled. Seated closely next to him were two women that were practically falling out of their clothes. They looked bored out of their mind. Marcus smoked the hookah and breathed out dragon breath. Oh, and he also wore sunglasses inside.
Arden stepped into the little cubby.
Marcus glanced up at her. “Booth’s taken.”
“I was wondering if we could join you,” Arden said as Joe stepped in next to her. Joe looked menacing with his creased forehead, sharp eyebrows, and full black beard.
Secrets Boxset: A Riveting Kidnapping Mystery Collection Page 14
