The Vanishing of The Georgia Rose

  The Vanishing of the Georgia Rose

  J.S Donovan

  Contents

  1. Lure

  2. The Bust

  3. Six Days Gone

  4. Hidden in Frame

  5. Below

  6. Friends and Foes

  7. The Cleaners

  8. Rising Sun

  9. Solace

  10. Star Fall

  11. The Catch

  12. Left Hook

  13. Searching

  14. Break-In

  15. The Chase

  16. Subtext

  17. The Well

  18. Forbidden Fruit

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Copyright 2020 All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means without prior written permission, except for brief excerpts in reviews or analysis.

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  1

  Lure

  9:01pm

  Halloween Night

  Macon, Georgia

  Tonight would change everything.

  Anxiety crippled bookish fourteen-year-old Jessica Carmon as she followed four of the most popular girls from Broward May High down Cotton Avenue. Slack-jawed and crooked skeletons hung behind the windows of the late 19th century buildings. Jack-o’-lanterns watched her from the steps of ruddy townhouses. Dressed in twisted costumes, local families and students went from door to door, grabbing fistfuls of candy.

  Wearing a baggy orange turtleneck, a pleated skirt, high socks, a short wig, and thick glasses, Jessica dressed like Velma for her first Halloween since she started high school. Her timidity matched the character, but it blossomed more from self-esteem issues than good acting. Usually lost in a book or watching Japanese animation, Jessica rarely connected with her peers. She was stunned when Emma, Lindsey, Ashlyn, and Hannah invited her out today. She fumbled saying the word “yes” and eventually resorted to nodding to relay her message. Emma’s mom picked them up at 6:50 pm and dropped them off in the downtown. They had been together for three hours, but Jessica trailed behind like an outcast. The girls talked about cute boys, cosmetic products, and other things Jessica didn’t understand. They were all in cross-country, but they never mentioned that once.

  Jessica kept her arms crossed and her head low. A frown tugged at the corners of her lips. After nearly walking into a light post, she forced herself to stay alert. She wondered if the girls only extended the invitation because they pitied her. She cringed. She regretted not spending the night watching cheesy sci-fi horror movies with her father.

  “Hey, Jessica,” one of the girls called out.

  She stopped walking. The four girls looked back at her. Tall and beautiful, Emma wore a white dress splashed with fake blood. Ashlyn had cat ears, painted-on whiskers, and a belly shirt. Quietly confident, African-American Hannah was dressed as a cheerleader with vampire’s teeth. Lindsey had highlighted blond hair that tumbled down the shoulders of her red gown. An ornate masquerade mask covered a third of her pretty face. Her crimson lips grew into a wry smile.

  Lindsey said, “You know Cameron Pike has a crush on you, right?”

  Jessica’s face went red.

  Cameron was one of the football players. She was sure the guy had never looked at her, let alone liked her. Was she really that blind?

  Emma asked Jessica playfully, “You ever had a boyfriend before?”

  Jessica cast down her eyes in embarrassment.

  “Aww,” Ashlyn said. “She’s so cute.”

  The girls giggled.

  Lindsey took her hand. “Come on, let’s get something to drink, and we’ll give you some advice.”

  “O-okay,” Jessica stuttered.

  A small, decorated table sat out in front of a local cafe. A hot chocolate machine stood next to a stack of plastic cups. The middle-aged barista had a large brim hat, a corset, a tattered skirt, and dark leggings.

  Lindsey stopped Jessica before she reached the woman. “Mind if I see your phone? I want to pull up Cameron’s Facebook.”

  “I can do it,” Jessica fished her phone out of the lip of her long socks. The moment it was in view, Lindsey snatched it from her hand.

  Jessica opened her mouth to speak.

  Lindsey cut her off with a gesture and said, “Relax.”

  Jessica hid her frustration behind a weak smile.

  “Go grab us some drinks. I’ll have Cameron's profile pulled up when you get back.”

  Lips pursed, Jessica left the girls and approached the table outside the cafe. “Um, five, please.”

  The woman laughed. “Someone’s thirsty.”

  “It’s for my friends,” Jessica said.

  The woman spoke pointedly. “Tell them if they would like some, they’ll have to come over here themselves.”

  “Oh,” Jessica said, wondering how this could get any more awkward. She noticed the sign next to her. It read, one cup per person in bold letters. Jessica’s mouth made a line on her face.

  She turned back to the sidewalk. People in costumes passed by. The girls were nowhere to be seen. Pulse pounding, Jessica stepped away from the table and looked both ways. She would’ve borrowed the barista’s cell phone, but she didn’t have any of the girls’ numbers memorized. The revelation hit Jessica. They’d left her.

  Was this their plan the whole night? No, they just got distracted. Jessica tried to stay optimistic. They couldn’t have gone far.

  Jessica started down the sidewalk. She looked around with nervous diligence, trying to catch any glimpse of her so-called friends. She cupped her hands on the windows of an art gallery and other open stores and peered inside. No luck. Hugging herself, she contemplated calling her father. She quickly put that idea to death. She was a ninth-grader. She couldn’t be known as the girl who still relied on her father for help.

  Alone, she rounded a corner and saw a large crowd of people gathered around an outdoor concert. The stage jutted out from two buildings and had a Blues band rocking out. Jessica chewed on the inside of her cheek. She felt like someone was watching her. You’re just paranoid, she told herself.

  Feeling uneasy standing alone, she headed to the crowd.

  “Emma? Lindsey?” She called out as she shouldered through the sweaty mass of standing people. Most were college-age. Though there was no alcohol being served, they were drunk and rowdy.

  “Ashlyn? Hannah? Hello?” Her voice was quickly lost in the shuffle of noise.

  Without warning, something cold pressed against her lower back. A chill raced up her spine, and the hair on the back of her neck stood.

  She heard a man’s voice say from behind her, “Don’t move. Don’t scream. Or I will shoot you.”

  Jessica froze. Though the crowd around her sang and cheered, it was like she was completely alone. No one looked at her. She opened her mouth, but no words escaped her. Her heart pounded. Was this a prank?

  The stranger tapped the gun on her back twice. “Walk forward.”

  Teeth chattering, Jessica started to walk through the crowd. Giving her brief looks, people stepped aside.

  Help me, she mouthed.

  No one noticed.

  No one cared.

  She breached the crowd. The noise faded as she walked down the sidewalk. The man’s quiet breathing and the soft pitter-patter of his boots filled her ears.

  “Please,” Jessica whispered.

  A tear streaked down her face.

  “Turn left up here,” the man commanded as they neared a gap between two buildings.

  She thought about running, but if the weapon was legitimate…

  A dark alleyway appeared to her left.

  Jessica started sobbing. “No… No…”

  “You want to see your parents again?” the stranger asked.

  Jessica sniffled. Maybe if she obeyed him, everything would be okay. She wiped her eyes and turned down the alley. The buildings towered over her. The walls seemed to press in. She passed by dumpsters and a pile of waterlogged wood pallets. The light from the street got farther and farther away. She secretly shook off her bracelet and let it fall. The alley reopened to a lot behind the three-story buildings. There were no cars parked there. Only an ice cream truck.

  Jessica was rigid. Her breathing was erratic. She could feel herself having a panic attack. She’d never had one before and didn’t know what to do. That only made her panic more.

  The stranger prodded her with the gun barrel. “Go on.”

  Jessica shook her head.

  The stranger asked, “You want to go home?”

  Jessica nodded.

  “Then listen to what I say.”

  After a moment of hesitation, Jessica forced herself to proceed toward the ice cream truck. Every step was like pulling teeth.

  “Open the back door.”

  Jessica did so. She tried to steal a glimpse at the man, but he stopped her.

  “Don’t look at me.”

  Jessica kept her eyes forward. She noticed a metal bar mounted under the utensil countertop. One side of a pair of handcuffs was attached to it.

  “Get in.”

  Jessica climbed into the back.

  “Put it on.”

  Trembling, Jessica fashioned the cold cuff tightly
around her wrist.

  The stranger closed the door, sealing Jessica’s fate in darkness.

  2

  The Bust

  11:59 pm

  Five days after the abduction...

  Autumn set Macon ablaze. Orange, red, and yellow leaves rattled on the tips of rigid branches. Chilling winds sliced through tight alleys and tumbled over the surrounding farmlands. Throughout the city, modern buildings stood shoulder to shoulder with antebellum relics. Streets overflowing with art galleries and music shops contrasted drab ghettos poorer than ninety-eight percent of the nation. Most noteworthy of all was Macon’s geographic location. Smack dab in the middle of the state, it was a crossroads for drugs, weapons, and people endlessly trafficked in plain sight. Truck stops, bars, salons, and more generic businesses could be a front for the stream of evil.

  Only those with a trained eye could see...

  Arden Briar sat at a small booth in the back of the All-American, a dive bar on the western side of the city. She was thirty-three, five foot, six inches tall, and had toned muscles rippling under her freckled skin. Old scars painted her knuckles. Her naturally wavy red hair was cut at her sharp jawline. Freckles dotted her cheekbones. A sand-colored military anorak jacket, white T-shirt, and sports bra dressed her torso. She wore dark jeans and dirty running shoes. Her purse leaned against her thigh. It contained an expensive Canon camera, a costly lens, a hairbrush concealing a plastic spike in the handle, pepper spray, Clif Bars for energy, and more practical items.

  She nursed her water. The ice had melted. The squeezed lemon diluted the bottom of the glass. Her auburn eyes scanned the room like a bird of prey. Throughout the tap house, pint glasses and beer bottles clinked together, rambunctious laughter thundered, and dozens of conversations merged into a single noise. Pool hustlers performed trick shots and forked over dollar bills. Tattooed bartenders topped off drinks and slipped tips into their waist apron.

  Three and a half years ago, Arden had spent nearly every night in places like this, drinking, causing a ruckus, and living on the edge of death. That side of her life was dead now; her eyes were open. Her heart was diligent, and her mind was set with purpose.

  Peter Banks, a forty-plus-year-old construction worker, asked the bartender for another drink. A grease-stained polo hung over his large body. His copper wire five o’clock shadow linked into his buzz cut. With large pants and tan work boots, he sat with one cheek on the stool while the other leg balanced him. Despite the meat on his bones, he had muscle. A ring of barbed wire was tattooed around his thick bicep, as was common for a country boy.

  Arden had been watching him for the last four hours. During that time, he drank a lot, catcalled the waitresses, berated some of the pool players, and proved himself a genuine nuisance. Despite the cold reception, he came here at least twice a week.

  Peter stood, nearly knocking over his stool. To close his tab, he laid dollar bills out one by one as a way of flaunting his wealth. Winking at the bartender, he turned away from the bar and pulled up his slipping pants.

  On his way out the door, his dark eyes found Arden’s. Though he looked at her, he didn’t really see her. She was just another woman in the crowd.

  The moment the door closed behind him, Arden quickly snatched her purse.

  She stepped out into the gravel parking lot. The bar’s tall red, white, and blue neon sign illuminated the vehicles. Standing next to his Toyota truck, Peter fumbled with his keys.

  Arden casually walked to her dingy, Nordic-blue 1993 Lincoln Town Car.

  Peter found his truck’s key and unlocked his door. Grunting, he clambered inside. The vehicle sank under his weight. Kicking up gravel, his truck peeled out of the parking lot and swerved onto the main road.

  Arden tailed four car lengths behind him.

  Peter drove sixty in a forty-five. Not wanting to compromise her position, Arden lagged behind him. She followed him through the main streets of Macon. Skyscrapers reached to the night sky. Old apartment complexes lined certain roads. Streets lights flashed over Arden’s determined expression.

  The seventeen-minute drive ended at the sliding gate of a new strip mall’s construction site. Peter got out of his truck, unlocked the gate, and slid it open. When he had driven in, he got out and sealed the gate behind him.

  Arden parked by the curb. With her purse strap running diagonally across her chest, she jogged to the fence. It was nine feet tall and had a long banner reading Rockhouse Shopping Center coming soon! Arden’s fingers found the gaps between the banner and started to climb. The metal dug into her fingers but didn’t break the flesh.

  Arden reached the top and sat down. Not seeing Peter, she slipped off, landing in a crouched position. A few floodlights shined on the incomplete building. Moving quickly and cautiously, Arden dashed across the empty concrete lot and reached the building. Dotted with sweat and slightly winded, she passed through the hollow corridors. Plastic sheeting and unpainted wood beams formed the halls around her. She stepped past toolboxes and ladders standing around. Eventually, she reached the back window that had yet to be glassed-in. She saw Peter’s truck parked next to a site office shaped like a shipping crate. Arden moved through the building, attempting to find a better view of the office’s windows. The blinds were drawn. Finding a good vantage point of the front door, she unzipped her purse, pulled out her camera, and put on her long lens.

  After she set her camera’s focus on the front door, she pulled a nearby two-step ladder closer and took a seat.

  She waited.

  Despite the cool autumn breeze, perspiration trickled down her cheek.

  There was always a certain amount of risk in her business. It wasn’t just breaking and entering, spying, and going to dangerous places. The danger came from how she spent her most valuable resource: time. More than anything else, Arden had to make sure she was pursuing the right avenues to advance her goal. Tonight, that was saving twenty-year-old Maya Taylor.

  Maya had been missing for two weeks. Her aunt had hired Arden to find the girl. According to her aunt’s testimony, Maya had been running with the wrong crowd for years. She was raised with seven other siblings, all in equally bad places in their lives. By talking to her family, Arden learned that Maya had run off with her deadbeat boyfriend, who claimed she’d left him for another guy. Arden discovered Maya had contact with her boyfriend’s ex-coworkers, who had offered her a job in construction. Right, because a pretty, petite twenty-year-old needed a job doing hard manual labor. Peter was among those who worked at the construction company. It didn’t take Arden long to learn that his rap sheet was full of sexual assault charges. It took a while to learn his routine, but she had. She felt today was the day she was going to find what she needed.

  An hour ticked by before the office door opened again.

  The moment it did, Arden snapped rapid-fire pictures of the inside of the office. Peter smoked a cigarette. Behind him was a small table with a few other men playing cards and snorting cocaine. Wearing a cut-off shirt and short shorts, an African-American girl sat on the lap of one of the greasy, middle-aged men. She looked high out of her mind. There were wrinkled dollar bills in her cleavage. Arden recognized her as Maya.

  When Peter went back inside, Arden checked her pictures, seeing the condemning evidence clearly in focus. Thank you, Lord, she said internally.

  She texted Derrick from the Macon PD. “Lost bird at Rockhouse. Back office. Go in dark.”

  Derrick replied back, “Delivery en route.”

  Eight minutes later, a police cruiser pulled up to the site office. They should’ve arrived in six minutes, but they had to get past the gate.

  The cruiser flipped on its lights. The two officers got out and gave the door a knock.

  There was a long pause.