Secrets Boxset: A Riveting Kidnapping Mystery Collection

by J. S. Donovan

  “Addresses,” Arden said. She pulled out a short list of names she’d put together during her time in the bunker. “Tell me where they live. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Derrick cautiously took the paper. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

  “Thank you, Derrick,” Arden said and gave him a hug. He tensed up for a moment and then hugged her back. She told him where to leave the addresses when he finished.

  “Please run away, Arden,” Derrick begged.

  “I can’t,” Arden said.

  This case is all I have left.

  4

  Descent

  Light rain pattered the streets of Atlanta and slipped down the brim of Joe’s trucker cap. He stayed near the glass-roofed bus bench, mindlessly nibbling at his toothpick. He was still getting used to the feeling of his trimmed goatee. His face felt naked. He warmed his hands in the pockets of his brown Carhartt-insulated jacket. Blue jeans and cowboy boots made him feel ridiculous, but he had to kill his true persona and adopt something unexpected.

  It was the six o'clock rush hour. Cars roared down the street, splashing waves of dirty water across the sidewalk.

  Joe’s tired, haunted eyes stayed on the public library. The building was more akin to a bunker than a house of literature. Its concrete walls could withstand a missile. Its broad and tinted windows offered the observer a great view of the city below.

  The traffic stopped in a disjointed mess. Always the opportunist, Joe speedily crossed the street.

  He’d just broken his promise to Arden, but he couldn’t bring himself to wait any longer.

  The library’s mechanical doors opened before him. He stepped into the colossal entrance hall. As the doors closed, the sound of traffic and rain closed with them. Only one librarian worked at the counter. She supported her cheek on her hand and flipped through the pages of a fat novel.

  Joe passed through the metal detectors unnoticed. A trail of watery footprints followed him.

  The librarian glanced up from her book. Joe pinched the bill of his cap and tipped it slightly. She gave him a tired smirk.

  Joe hiked up the steps. Once he reached the second floor, he quickened his pace. His tired gaze scanned the empty aisle. Shelf after shelf blurred by. The security camera’s all-seeing eyes watched him. He kept his face in the shadow of the bill and he slowed down his hasty movement. The whole operation was a risky endeavor, but Joe realized that was just his new status quo. Unsurprisingly, it was hard to process that he was a fugitive, but he set his eyes on the mission. His time in the Marines taught him to compartmentalize his feelings and focus on the task before him. Passing by an aisle in the historical research section, Joe spotted her.

  Jessica stood on her tippy toes and reached for a book on the top shelf. Her fingertips just barely snagged it and brought it down. She straightened out the sleeves of her loose sweater and flipped through the pages of the book. She wore jogging pants and pink tennis shoes. Her brunette hair was in a loose ponytail. Her large glasses rested on the slope of her nose. Memories of her younger years played through Joe’s mind like photos in an old projector slide. From her infant years to the awkward nerdiness of her early teens, Jessica had undergone quite the transformation. Every day, it seemed like she looked more and more like her mother.

  A small, sad smile worked its way up Joe’s naturally stoic face. He was proud of the woman she was becoming. After being abducted and raped, Joe thought she’d be a broken soul. And yeah, there were nights when she’d wake herself up from screaming, but Joe had plenty of friends in the military who did the same. Jessica was strong, much stronger than she realized, but she still needed her father.

  Only stealing the slightest glance of his daughter, Joe walked around to the back of the shelf she faced. Feeling his blood pumping, he drew out the book where she stood. Part of Jessica’s face became visible in the gap. Her head was down as she turned through the pages of the large historical text.

  Joe pretended to read the book he had grabbed. Speaking softly, he said, “Hey.”

  Jessica glanced up from the book and looked through the gap.

  She gasped and spoke with a broken whisper. “Dad?”

  Joe hushed her. “Act normal. Pretend you’re just reading.”

  An emotional wave of confusion and worry flashed over Jessica’s face. She reached for the phone in her pocket.

  “Don’t,” Joe said, still pretending to read. “Give me a minute to explain myself, okay?”

  Jessica replied, “You’re all over the news. They say you killed someone.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I don’t understand. If you’re innocent, why haven’t you turned yourself in?” Jessica said. “Where’s your lawyer?”

  Her words were like a hot knife.

  The book trembled in Joe’s hands. “You just have to trust me.”

  Jessica fought tears. “You left me and Ethan to fend for ourselves. Gosh, Dad. It’s been eleven days.”

  Joe kept his head down in shame.

  Jessica’s emotions had taken over. “Do you have any idea what you put us through?”

  “Jessica, I--”

  “-- Or how terrifying it was to have the police knock on the front door and tell me that you… that you…” Jessica wiped away a tear. She struggled to keep her lip from quivering.

  “Don’t make a scene,” Joe said calmly and in a non-facetious manner.

  “Don’t-- You can’t just show up here like this and expect me to be okay.”

  Joe’s mouth made a line on his face. He kept his eyes on the book.

  His heart was being torn out of his chest inch by inch as he listened to his daughter cry. You’re a monster, a little voice told him. You should’ve never come here.

  Joe spoke softly. “I’m going to do what I can to keep us together. Until things get cleared up, we’ll find a way to communicate.”

  “I can’t do this, Dad. It’s too much,” Jessica said, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

  “I’m trying to make it easier,” Joe replied. He hated that he had to look at the book and not her. “We’re a family of survivors. We’ll get through this. Just like we did with Mom, and again when you were... you know. I haven’t changed. I’d still go to hell and back for you.”

  Jessica sniffled. “You didn’t really do all those things they said, right?”

  “No, sweetie,” Joe replied.

  “None of it is true?” Jessica asked skeptically.

  Joe huffed. He hated lying to his daughter. “Things happened. I was set up, Jess.”

  “Are they going to come after Ethan?” Jessica asked.

  “They just want me right now. Perhaps if they saw us, they might come--”

  “Then why are you here?”

  The question threw Joe off balance. “I-I wanted to see you. To tell you it would be okay.”

  “What if they followed you?” Jessica was up on the woodchipper now.

  “They didn’t.” Joe was ready to tear the book in two.

  Turning white, Jessica took a step back. “You can’t come near me anymore.”

  Joe finally looked up from the book. “Jessica, wait.”

  The teenager girl shook her head. “They might take Ethan if they know you’re here. Or that we talked. I can’t do this. I…”

  Jessica left the book she was reading and quickly headed out of the aisle.

  Every part of Joe screamed to have him chase after her, but he knew how detrimental it would be. Even being in this library was a step away from being arrested. He was forced to stay put and watch her leave. Joe’s heart hardened and cracked as his only daughter shunned him.

  He dragged his feet to the railing of the second-floor internal balcony and watched Jessica hurry out of the mechanical doors.

  He tried to bury his emotions, but he felt himself breaking.

  The mechanical doors opened and three police officer entered.

  Joe’s rage fell into dread as he watched the cops approach t
he front desk. The librarian straightened up her posture and pointed at the stairs.

  Joe slipped away from the railing and cursed under his breath.

  He concealed himself behind a shelf and watched two of the three officers hike up the steps and fan out across the second floor. The final officer stayed by the receptionist’s desk, which was the only official way out of the library.

  Joe moved by the rows of shelves, finding a fire exit. There was an alarm warning painted on the front of it. He looked over his shoulder. The police were covering ground quickly. The choice got him sweating. Not wanting to risk sneaking by them, he pressed against the door bar and rushed out.

  The alarm triggered.

  Joe scurried down the exterior steps. He landed beside the building and ran down the sidewalk. The officers rushed out behind him.

  Joe zig-zagged through the slowed traffic. He saw the bus up ahead. It started to take off just as Joe got beside it. He slapped the door a few times. The driver stopped the bus and allowed Joe to run inside. He quickly paid in cash and moved to the back of the bus. Through the window, he could see the cops scanning the street.

  Taking a deep breath, he took a seat next to a sleeping old woman and fat businessman playing tunes on his iPhone. Locking his fingers together and bowing his head, Joe grappled with the fact that he had been just moments away from losing everything.

  Arden went alone to Garold Grey’s house while Joe was out seeing his daughter. She tried to convince Joe to see the girl when things were safer, but he wouldn’t listen. She understood his headspace. Family was important, but right now there were much bigger risks. He promised that he just wanted to check on her, not engage in any way. Arden doubted that would be the case. Nevertheless, she let him roam free while she focused on their real target.

  Garold, the producer on Scarlet’s show, was the one that rammed Arden off the road. She couldn’t be certain if he was Scarlet Gales’s original abductor, but he was part of the problem.

  The last time she’d come to his house, she’d seen him talking to the Atlanta police chief and other officials. Arden assumed they were part of the cult too.

  Arden snuck around the side of Garold’s pretty house. The light rain landed on her skin. She peeked through his windows and found that no one was home. By the rotting fruit in the food bowl, no one had been home in days. He must not have come back since the night of the orchard party.

  That was unfortunate. He was Arden’s biggest lead. Nevertheless, they had other targets.

  Arden returned to her impromptu home. It was an abandoned shoe factory. The front door was locked, so she had to access the inside by climbing up the side wall and getting through a broken window. The place was naturally lit and had birds’ nests in the rafters. Arden had her sleeping bag in the manager's office. The desk was still there. It had three centimeters of dust on its top. Arden slipped the string on her flashlight over the nonfunctioning ceiling fan and used it to illuminate the room. She sat back in the squeaky office chair and shut her eyes. If she couldn’t go after the producer, she’d have to try someone else.

  Joe snuck in that window an hour later. He stripped off his jacket and took a seat opposite Arden.

  Arden asked, “How did it go?”

  Unblinking, Joe shook his head. “We’ve wasted enough time.”

  “I agree,” Arden said. “We have our first target in the batter's box.”

  “Garold?”

  “Nope. He’s gone,” Arden said. “I think we should go after the police chief. It’s risky though.”

  “Risky doesn’t even cut it,” Joe replied.

  “If there is someone who knows about the party, it's him.”

  “And if we’re wrong?” Joe asked.

  “We could go after the other men that ate with Garold, but they won’t know as much,” Arden reminded him. “He could give us the names of the other cultists.”

  Just calling them that still made her cringe.

  “Or it could backfire,”

  “We can fight all night, but I think this is our best chance at getting results. Are you with me or not?”

  “It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.”

  Arden didn’t reply.

  Joe took a deep breath. “How do you plan to do this?”

  “We break in during the middle of the night, tie them up, and use the family as leverage to get answers from him.”

  “That’s brutal, Arden,” Joe said. “From what I know, the guy has a wife and daughter.”

  Arden spoke with iron resolve. “The time to play nice is over.”

  “Don’t you have a moral obligation to avoid that kind of stuff?”

  “They’re killing kids,” Arden said plainly. She’d spent a while praying over the discussion but didn’t feel a strong leaning in either direction. This seemed like the best course of action. She used the word “best” loosely.

  At ten o’clock, they went to the dumpster near the factory. They checked behind it, finding the envelope Derrick had left for them. This had been a drop site they’d used before in previous cases. Arden had the addresses of Police Chief Hector Rivera and a warning from Derrick, telling her to leave the city.

  They dressed themselves in black and kept their ski masks in their hoodie pockets and their pistols tucked beneath their clothes. They hailed a taxi. The cab driver was a talker. Arden was polite to him and asked him about his family and if he needed any prayer. The act of kindness kept him from being suspicious of Joe and Arden. Truthfully, Arden really cared about the driver’s home life and prayed that his relationship with his wife would improve. It felt good to experience some human decency in all this mess.

  The driver dropped them off at the entrance to the classy neighborhood.

  Through it was almost midnight, the homeowners had a knack for keeping their lights on. Joe theorized that it was a way to flaunt their wealth. Arden thought it was to detract robbers. By the looks of it, the wealthy neighborhood was very safe. No one would be stupid enough to go after the police chief's neighborhood.

  Arden and Joe had no easy way of making it to Rivera’s house. They stayed to the shadows and when they got to the house, they moved around the backyard. The building had nice cobblestone walls and an inviting presence. Arden and Joe put on their ski masks. They kept the guns clipped to their belts, though they had no intent of using them.

  One glance through the window and Arden saw the alarm panel. Breaking in wouldn’t be an option. They had to resort to plan B.

  They headed to the front door and pressed the doorbell.

  Arden’s hands were sweating inside her gloves. Her throat dried out and her heart raged in her chest.

  Joe seemed calm and collected. He boxed his shoulders and drew his pistol, which he kept over his lap.

  The lock clicked open from the inside.

  Arden held her breath.

  The door opened an inch.

  Like a frenzied shark, Joe slammed his way inside.

  Mrs. Rivera, a wholesome woman in a scarlet nightgown, fell backwards. In the same motion, Joe huddled over her, muted her scream with his hand, and aimed the pistol at her head with his other hand.

  Arden slipped inside and quickly but quietly shut the door.

  Pinned by Joe’s knee, Mrs. Rivera stretched her arms above her head in surrender. Her eyes were bulging with fear. She was as still as a board.

  Arden stared in horror. She was surprised their plan actually worked.

  Joe quickly shot a glance back at Arden.

  After a moment of collecting herself, she nodded and pulled out the duct tape.

  Joe silently gestured for the woman to put her raised hands together. Crying, she did so without resistance. Arden, keeping an eye out in the dimly-lit house, wrapped rings of tape around the woman’s wrists and her hands until they looked like one giant, closed lobster claw.

  A toilet flushed upstairs.

  A door opened.

  “Alma?” A man called out.

/>   Arden pulled out a piece of tape. Joe lifted his left hand and Arden quickly used the tape to silence the woman before she could say anything.

  Footsteps sounded overhead. A man called out. “Everything alright?”

  Joe nodded to a gap beside the stairs. Arden hid there and waited.

  Dressed in a white tee and boxers, Hector Rivera slowly moved down the stairs. At first sight of Joe and his wife, he froze.

  Arden stepped out of the gap and aimed her gun at him. She put a finger over his mouth to signify him to be quiet.

  Alma wept.

  Hector glanced at the home invaders and his terrified wife.

  Arden flicked the gun to the side, signaling him to march down the stairs. With rigid movement, he did so.

  Arden stood behind him with the gun aimed. “Basement?”

  Hector kept his eyes locked on his wife. “I love you.”

  “Answer the question,” Joe said, keeping the gun barrel pointed at the wife. “And don’t be a hero.”

  Sweat dosed Hector. “This way.”

  Arden followed him down the hall and opened the door to the carpeted basement below.

  Arden told him to descend.

  Hector went down one step at a time.

  Arden reached the bottom and saw Joe leading Alma down behind him.

  The basement was spacious with a nice carpeted floor, a sixty-two-inch wall mounted flat screen, and a nice couch with a recliner next to it. Arden directed Hector to sit down on the recliner.

  Alma sat on the nearby couch.

  Joe kept his gun trained on her.

  Arden told Hector to stretch out his hands and put them together. She wrapped tape around them until he matched Alma. Arden got down and did the same to Hector’s ankles. Arden knew he wanted to kick her in the face, but Joe’s threat against his wife stopped him. After they were bound, Arden set the tape down.

  She leaned into Joe’s ear. “I’ll check upstairs for anyone else.”

  Joe nodded. He kept his gun on the silent couple.

  Arden hurried up the steps. She closed the basement door behind her and took a deep breath. She felt vile. Nothing about this was right in her soul. She glanced up and saw a figure at the end of the hallway. The moment Arden locked eyes with her, the teenage girl started running.