Secrets Boxset: A Riveting Kidnapping Mystery Collection

by J. S. Donovan

  Arden tucked at it. “My bolt cutters are in the truck.”

  “I’ll get them,” Joe volunteered.

  “Be safe,” Arden said.

  Joe gave her a curt nod and jogged out of sight. Arden stood next to the door, her only source of light being the flashlight. She scanned her surroundings and waited. She noticed more random tools nearby. Arden found a hammer. Wanting to try her luck, she gave the locked door a few hardy smacks. Much to her surprise, it popped open.

  She went to give Joe a text, but she didn’t have any phone service.

  She pocketed her phone and poked the door. It slowly opened, revealing stairs that led down into the basement. Great, Arden thought sarcastically, as if the place couldn’t feel more evil. Biting into her lip, she decided to investigate.

  As she neared the bottom, she noticed murky water flooding the place. Furniture bobbed on the surface as it knocked gently against the decaying stairs. At the far end of the room was a human-sized hole in the bottom half of the wall. The only way to pass through the gap would mean being nearly all the way submerged. Every part of Arden didn’t want to go forward, but she thought about the little girl that could be trap on the other side.

  Deciding she wanted to backup, she turned around and started back up the stairs to get Joe. Something moved behind her. She twisted back. She couldn’t tell if it was the water knocking furniture together or something else. “Hello?” She called.

  Thump.

  It was coming from the other side of the hole.

  “Hello?”

  Arden’s voice went nowhere.

  She glanced back to where she had entered and contemplated waiting for Joe. She wondered why he was taking so long. It didn’t matter. Arden wanted to get out of this place and the faster she could do it, the better.

  She set her phone on the steps, not wanting it to get wet. She removed her shoes as well and placed them beside her phone. It’ll only take two minutes, she told herself. The basement was pretty long, but she believed she could get through it quickly. Her sock-covered foot stepped into the water. Arden shuddered at the water’s ice-cold temperature. She forced herself to take another step and another.

  The water got up to her knees. She winced. When she reached the bottom, it was up to her waist. She kept her arms out of the water and walked across the coarse basement floor. She glanced behind her as she waded through the swamp. There was no sign of Joe. He should’ve been here by now. Arden avoided bobbing furniture and other objects that were in her path. She reached the midpoint of the basement and saw a snake slither by on the surface of the water.

  Arden froze. Her heart pounded. Her body trembled from cold and fear.

  She reached the breach, took a breath, and ducked under. The water sent chills all over her being. She moved a few feet forward before breaching the surface. On the other side was a strange cobblestone corridor. Shivering, Arden hugged herself and rubbed her arms. She contemplated going back, but she was already committed. The ground beneath her feet was coarse cobblestone. She was careful with her steps, not wanting to cut her foot open. Thankfully, her flashlight was waterproof. She went farther down the corridor until the water was just below her ribs. It opened into a chamber of unknown purpose on a slightly elevated plane. Her toe hit something hard. She grimaced and felt around with her foot, feeling submerged steps beneath the water. Arden hiked the steps until the water was to her ankles and looked around the elevated platform.

  There was a single step that made U shape around the platform. On the ‘U’ were dozens of shoes of different shapes and sizes piled together, as if they were part of a landfill. Arden shone her light over them. Some were falling apart and looked to be thirty years old while others were just dirty. It was like they were tossed here but kept out of the water. It looked like a depiction of the Holocaust--there must have been thirty to forty different pairs, the smallest belonging to an infant.

  Arden’s stomach churned. She turned the flashlight to the walls of the dome-like ceiling. Across the walls was graffiti, showing the Luciferian cross and other pagan symbols.

  Her mouth dried out.

  She felt fear twist in her heart like a knife.

  Whatever this place was and whatever it was for, Arden knew it was pure evil.

  Her attention fell on a pair of red heels and her jaw fell open. She had seen them in the security videos at the Hyatt. They belonged to Scarlet.

  Arden froze in place, not wanting to believe what she was looking at. She had to be sure they belonged to Scarlet and were not just look-alikes. Nevertheless, Arden couldn’t afford to tamper with the evidence. She needed the police to see this. Perhaps they’d find fingerprints. She looked down the continuation of the corridor and decided to explore further. She walked by the shoes and descended into the waist deep water.

  Her mind raced as to who could’ve done this. She reached the end of the stubby corridor and saw rain. She looked up and noticed the entrance hole of the well, along with the silhouetted figure looking down at her.

  8

  The Well

  Arden craned her head up to the entrance of the well. It was like she was staring at black vacuum and up into the darkening sky. Submerged up to her waist, her body had adjusted to black water. Small drops of rain pattered on her face.

  The silhouettes figure stared down at her. He had broad shoulders and short hair, but his face was lost in the shadow.

  Squinting, she asked. “Joe?”

  The silhouetted figure moved its hand out of sight and brought it back into view holding a pistol.

  Without hesitating, Arden dipped under the water as the stranger opened fire.

  Unable to see anything in front of her, Arden swam. She felt the water move by her ribs as a bullet rained down. She kicked hard and kept her arms out in front of her. Her hand touched the stairs and she surfaced. She rose up from the black water and caught her breath. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She rested her back against the cobblestone wall of the arched corridor and looked toward the wall.

  Arden glanced back up and saw something on the corridor past the shoe platform. It was a small square device, roughly the size of a matchbox. It had a glowing red light. Arden’s theory was that it was a motion detector of some kind. She wondered how many of those were scattered about around the mansion. Even still, they’d only been there for forty-five minutes. There was no way someone could show up, unless they had been here the whole time or they had followed them. Arden didn’t like either answer.

  Drenched, she hiked the few steps and eyed Scarlet’s shoes. If she took them, they would get soaked and lose any fingerprints or forensic evidence. She needed to get to her cell phone and call the police. She also needed to find Joe. Dread took Arden’s mind to a dark place. Knowing time was short, she raced by the shoes and back into the water. She caught one last glimpse of the strange occult symbols on the wall and noticed one that looked like a dotted “T.” She’d seen it before but she couldn’t remember where.

  The bottom of her socks tore open as she dashed against the rough cobblestone. Not wanting to making more noise, she dipped down and swam. She dived under the breach in the basement wall and navigated the room full of floating furniture. Her soaked flashlight bounced the light as she rushed toward the rickety wooden stair. Taking two steps up, she noticed that her shoes and phone were gone.

  “Oh, Lord,” she mumbled.

  Her breathing was heavy. She drew out her pistol and rested the butt of it on the top of her flashlight-holding hand. Moving tactically, she conquered one step at a time. A jagged nail pierced her foot. She mouthed a scream but kept moving. She stepped back out into the downstairs hall. Water dripped down her face and clothes. It added ten pounds to her jeans and left her shivering. Bloody wet footprints followed in her wake. Without her cell phone, her mission was to get to her car.

  A revelation dawned on her that she gave Joe the keys.

  Her teeth chattered, partly from the cold and partly from adrenaline. S
he was cautious about using the flashlight knowing it would attract attention.

  She theorized that the shooter had found her cell phone and shoes first but waited at the well, knowing she’d come that way. The other, more plausible theory was that she was dealing with more than one person.

  She reached the end of the first hall and glanced into the kitchen. The broken glass and jagged knives on the floor made her dread moving forward. With each step, small chunks of dirt and shards of glass drilled into her soles. She grimaced, but she needed to keep her gun and light at the various entrances, not at her feet.

  She relied on her peripherals to navigate the edges of the room. She made her way through the kitchen, walked through a stubby hall, and clicked off her flashlight as she entered the main room. Light rain could be heard outside. The whistling wind rattled the barricaded windows. Arden kept her finger just above the trigger as she scanned the pitch-black room. Her eyes slowly adjusted. The shape of the stairs and the interior balcony were clear, but it was hard to tell if someone was watching her. The person at the well was probably already in the house or going to be soon.

  Arden moved quietly along the edge of the wall and squatted in the far corner of the room. She kept the flashlight off and waited.

  Silence.

  Darkness.

  No movement.

  Nothing.

  Her discomfort with the wet clothes was overshadowed by the uncertainty of who could be in the house with her.

  It felt like an hour had passed.

  She checked her watch. It had only been four minutes.

  Arden stood up. She kept her gun aimed and moved around the walls of the room until she had a clear shot at the front door. It was then she noticed a lump on the floor at the center of the room.

  In the darkness, Arden couldn’t make out what it was, but it seemed to be shaped like a person.

  Regretting every moment, Arden slowly put her finger on the button of the flashlight. If the shooter was in the room, he’d have a clear view of where she was, and she’d need to react quickly. Saying a silent prayer, she clicked on the flashlight.

  The light shined over the lump in the room.

  It was Joe, lying on his back with his arms crossed over his chest. Because of the heavy-duty army jacket he wore, it was impossible to tell if he was breathing. Nevertheless, Arden didn’t see any blood. Yet.

  Arden scanned the room with the flashlight, expecting to see someone else. The beam cast large shadows across the walls as it passed by the stair’s handrail and other objects in front of it. It appeared to be clear, but she couldn’t be certain.

  “Joe,” she whispered.

  He didn’t reply.

  Arden called out again, but louder, “Joe.”

  No response.

  Every second Arden waited felt like an eternity.

  Moving quickly and quietly, she rushed over to Joe and knelt down next to him. She shook his shoulder. “Hey, Joe, get up.”

  It sounded more like a plea than she wanted it to. She pressed her fingers against his neck, feeling a healthy pulse. She shook him harder.

  “Joe.”

  Arden slipped her pistol back into its holster and slid her arms under Joe. Getting a solid grip, she attempted to lift him over her shoulders much like a lost lamb. The man was six foot four and all muscle. Arden went red in the face as she attempted to stand up. Her knees buckled beneath her and she nearly dropped him. She kept her eyes on the door. It would’ve been wiser to run to the car, but she couldn’t leave him behind. It wasn’t a guilt issue either. She cared for the man.

  Pushing her physical stature to its limit, she managed to get up with a severely hunched back. Every step was pain. The door was twenty-five feet away. Arden moved two more steps before nearly buckling over. She stopped for a moment as tears streaked down her face. She remembered Jessica. She remembered Ethan. They couldn’t live without him. Arden took four more steps.

  Her spine popped. She could feel her back folding under the pressure, but she kept on.

  Another two steps.

  The door was fifteen feet away now.

  She remembered Joe’s words. The body is more resilient than we think.

  She pressed on, gasping in pain. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Most of the dampness on her body came from sweat instead of the dirty basement water.

  Her movements were slower and slower as she made it to the door. She reached out for the door knob when her body gave way.

  Arden and Joe collapsed to the floor five feet from the entrance. It was a miracle she’d gotten this far. Panting and red, Arden drew out her pistol and took aim behind her. The mansion was silent, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that someone was watching. Why hadn’t they made a move? Arden was vulnerable. If they had her in the crosshairs, it could all end right now.

  Arden knew her Maker. She didn’t fear death, but she had no intention of embracing it either. She kept one hand on her weapon and the other on Joe.

  He groaned.

  She glanced down at him but kept slowly sweeping the room with her gun. “About time. Get up.”

  Joe grimaced and grabbed the back of his head.

  “Joe. C’mon,” Arden said, standing.

  After a second, Joe found his bearings.

  Arden gave him a hand and helped him stand.

  Her back arched. The bruises on her neck also antagonized her.

  Joe checked his pockets. His eyes went wide.

  It was like reality had shot Arden. Neither of them had ways to communicate with the outside or a way to get back into the car.

  Arden had only had one solution. They would run.

  She quickly opened the front door and aimed out into the yard. Her ‘93 Lincoln was still where she left it. Nighttime was here and it was still raining.

  “Keep up,” she said to Joe and charged into the storm.

  Joe matched her pace as they rushed across the lawn. Arden’s soles were being shredded and the pain was unbearable, but she had to keep moving. It was life or death now. The rain pelted them as they rushed to the Lincoln. Arden tried the door. It was locked. There was no sign of the keys nearby.

  Joe and her dashed down the street. Looking back a final time, Arden saw a figure other than the mannequin watching her from the balcony.

  As they ran down the dirt road, Arden was forced to stop. Her feet were too injured. Without saying a word, Joe picked her up, putting one arm beneath the back of her knees and the other just below her upper back. He dashed down the road.

  Behind them, Arden heard dogs barking.

  “Hunting hounds,” Joe said.

  The blast of a shotgun sounded off in the distance. Joe turned off road and dashed into the woods. They moved quickly, but Arden could tell her body weight was slowing Joe down. Nevertheless, he didn’t voice a complaint and kept his eyes forward.

  Rain soaked them and created a stream of muddy water that Joe’s boots passed through. Knowing what they knew on the drive up here, they were miles away from town and help. Arden was certain someone was following them.

  After seven minutes of running, Joe slowed down into a jog, which soon turned into a power walk. They looked for shelter, but all they had was a weak canopy of trees. Joe found a toppled tree and sat down. Arden tied to get comfortable on the coarse bark. She checked her feet. They were blackened with mud and blood. Arden was hoping her sole would just go numb, but she didn’t have that luck. The pain throbbed up to her knees. She leaned into Joe for heat. He put an arm around her.

  The downpour continued through the ominous woods. Arden hoped Joe was paying attention to directions, because Arden sure wasn’t. She tried her best to stay calm and could do nothing but pray. They were lost, cold, and being hunted.

  Joe felt his head. “Bastards knocked me out.”

  “How many were there?” Arden asked.

  “If I’d seen them, they would’ve never gotten the drop on me. I was just about to open the trunk, too.”

  “What
matters is that you’re alive,” Arden said.

  “Why? They could’ve easily taken me out,” Joe said with confusion.

  Arden’s thoughts turned sour. Maybe this is part of their game. She didn’t say it. Life and death are in the power of the tongue.

  The trees stretched endlessly into the darkness. The storm picked up. Arden found herself shaking uncontrollably.

  “We can’t stay here,” she managed to say. Her lips were turning blue. Her teeth chattered.

  “You can’t walk,” Joe reminded her.

  To prove him wrong, Arden stood and took a few steps. The pain was so powerful that she went toppling over. Joe caught her at the last moment and held her up. “Let me carry you.”

  Arden wasn’t going to fight. She let him pick her up and they continued their miserable journey into the woods. Arden was thankful she had her waterproof flashlight. If they had to do this in the dark, Arden would’ve contemplated giving up. She still did, but she decided years ago that she was done being a victim. She’d soldier on, even if it meant surviving a night in hell.

  The sounds of barking and gunfire died away.

  The noise of rain on leaves occupied them through the late-night excursion. Joe had asked Arden if she wanted to find somewhere to rest. She turned him down time and time again. It wasn’t just for her own health. She needed to tell the police about the shoes before they were moved. In hindsight, she should’ve taken the shoes, but she never expected or planned on any of this to happen. She’d learn from her mistakes. If she survived.

  The rest of the night was a blur.

  Joe carried her along. Despite the pain in his shoulders, he voiced no complaint. The storm had started to die down, but the wind was ruthless. As the clouds moved away, more and more stars could be seen speckling the sky.