Best Laid Plans Ch 02 2

Scarlett Wilde closed the driver's door of her ten-year old Toyota Corolla, cranked the engine and put the air conditioning on max. As the car began to cool, she fished out her cellphone and dialed. She put the phone on speaker, opened the notes app with her left hand as she pulled her laptop from the case on the passenger seat with her right. She flipped open the laptop and began to transfer the notes she had jotted down on her phone app.

The phone call was answered on the third ring. "Scarlett, did you find him?"

Scarlett was typing when she replied, "Hey, Tom. Trooper Davis wasn't real happy to talk to me. Kind of blew me off, but he did say Bens told him she was waiting on her boyfriend to come help her."

"So, nothing new?" Tom asked distractedly.

"Nope," Scarlett said. "Just like the other two troopers. All their stories matched what we read in the original police reports, and none of them added anything to their stories."

Tom audibly sighed on her end of the line. "This is a pointless assignment! Six months ago, some detective goes missing and now my editor wants to do a follow up piece with no new follow up information!"

Scarlett stopped typing on the laptop. "I'll go talk to the DOT guy next. Maybe he remembers something new."

"Don't bother," Tom said dejectedly. "I was given this assignment because I'm in timeout for that unflattering article I wrote about the new mayor. This puff piece is part of my penance. I have enough bullshit to cobble something together. I can get it done by deadline tomorrow. Unfortunately, I still have that piece on the double homicide in Brentwood and the rise in traffic fatalities on Beach Boulevard."

"I can write it up for you, Tom," Scarlett interrupted. "I don't mind. Like you said, it's a puff piece anyway, and it's not like there's any new information to print..."

After a brief pause, Tom replied, "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Scarlett. That would be great."

Scarlett beamed and she pumped her fist. "I'll have it in your inbox by this time tomorrow."

Tom disconnected the call from her end and Scarlett finished her notes on the laptop with a smile on her face. Scarlett Wilde was a 20-year-old intern at the Times-Union, the local newspaper in Jacksonville, Florida. She was in between her junior and senior year at the University of North Florida and majoring in journalism. Scarlett had been interning at the Times-Union every summer since the end of her freshman year, and she knew she had to pad her resume because next year she would be trying to sell herself to some news outlets for a job.

Scarlett was working with Tom Dean, the Time-Union's lead investigative reporter, this summer, and she had enjoyed her time with Tom. Tom gave her much more free rein than any of her other mentors had in the past, and Tom had let Scarlett write several pieces that were printed in the paper.

Considering it was late July, Scarlett knew this was probably going to be her last assignment before classes started in mid-August, and that Tom was going to let her write it up was a nice parting gift. The piece was a six-month follow up of a Jacksonville detective, Colleen Bens, that had disappeared in January of this year. She was last seen by three separate state troopers and a DOT employee on the side of the road with a disabled SUV.

The funny thing is that Detective Bens told two of the troopers that Triple A was on the way to assist her, and she told the third that her boyfriend was coming to help. Subsequent investigations revealed that Triple A had never been contacted to respond to Detective Bens's location, and she did not have a boyfriend during the time she disappeared. Even old boyfriends were interviewed by the detectives investigating the disappearance, and none of them were contacted by Colleen Bens anytime near the time in question.

No one knew why Detective Bens would give conflicting and false information regarding her disabled vehicle, but sometime between her last contact with anyone known to authorities, Trooper Davis, and later that night, the SUV was no longer parked on the shoulder of the interstate and vehicle and driver had not been seen since.

A mystery to be sure, but the case went cold quickly, the police suspended the investigation and life went on. Six months later, the editor at the Times-Union wanted a piece updating the investigation. Unfortunately, there were not many, if any, updates, but Scarlett did not mind. She got a chance to write up another article for publication that would only pad her resume.

She put the car in gear, pulled out of the parking lot and made her way to the Department of Transportation yard several miles away. She parked her Corolla near the small office building and looked at the notes app on her cell. Clarance Eugene Garvey was the DOT employee that was listed in the original police report, but other than he stopped briefly at Detective Bens's disabled SUV, there was no information about what had occurred - if anything. The report only listed Mr. Garvey's name and date of birth. February 29, 1996. Scarlett smiled to herself noticing that Garvey was born on a leap year's extra day and thought how crazy that he had a birthday on his actual birthday every four years.

Scarlett locked up her old Toyota and made her way in the small, old building. An older, obese man with a DOT work shirt and pants sat behind a desk eating a sandwich and looking at an iPad. He looked up and said, "May I help you?"

Scarlett smiled, checked her notebook and said, "I sure hope so. Are you Clarance Garvey?"

The big man shook her head. "No. You just missed him. You might catch him in the yard before he leaves for his shift."

Scarlett thanked the man and made her way into the heat outside. She saw a row of full-size white pickup trucks with the DOT logo printed on the sides and back and adorned with yellow light bars on the roofs. She walked along the parked trucks and looked for Mr. Garvey, while realizing she was not dressed appropriately for the Florida summer. Button-down shirt, jeans and cowboy boots were too hot for this climate. Scarlett thought she was in for a day in the air-conditioned office and did not dress appropriately for the field.

"Can I help you, miss?"

The voice had come out of nowhere and startled Scarlett. She spun around and saw a thin man dressed in a yellow reflective safety jacket, stained work pants and dirty work boots standing a few feet behind her.

"You startled me," Scarlett said impishly. "I'm looking for Mr. Clarance Eugene Garvey. Any idea where I can find him?"

The man looked Scarlett over and her gaze lingered on the boots on her feet. Scarlett looked down and saw there was nothing on the ground and the man appeared to be looking at her footwear.

Scarlett cleared her throat and asked, "Any idea where I can find Mr. Garvey?"

The man looked up slowly and met Scarlett's eyes. "I'm Clarance Garvey." He then looked down at the boots again.

Scarlett looked at her boots as well and got a creepy feeling about this guy. "You...ahh...you like my boots?"

"Yeah," Garvey said slowly. "They're really nice. Expensive I bet."

Scarlett shifted uncomfortably. "Ahh...yeah, but I can't afford these. They were a gift from my parents last Christmas. I always wanted a pair."

Garvey continued to stare and nodded. "Shyanne Full Quill Ostrich Boots, right?"

Shocked that Garvey knew the exact brand and style of boots she was wearing just by looking at them, Scarlett nodded and said, "Yeah. Good eye. Hey, Mr. Garvey, can I ask you a couple questions?"

Garvey finally took her gaze away from Scarlett's Shyannes and looked at her face again. "What can I do for you, young lady?"

Happy to not be talking about her boots, Scarlett said, "I'm Scarlett Wilde. I work for the Times-Union, and I'm following up on a news story from several months ago. You were listed as a witness during the Detective Bens disappearance, and I'd like to ask you a couple questions regarding that incident."

Clarance Garvey stared at Scarlett with a deadpan expression. "I remember that girl. Cops interviewed me several times months ago, but I haven't heard anything since then. You're a reporter?"

"Yes, sir," Scarlett embellished. "Can you tell me what happened that night? The night you saw Detective Bens?"

Garvey glanced at Scarlett's brown Shyannes again, before looking back up and saying, "Not too much to tell. I saw the SUV with the flashers on and stopped to render assistance. Before I could do much, a state trooper stopped and told me to leave because he would handle it."

Scarlett typed a few notes into her phone's note app. Without looking directly at Garvey, she asked, "So you didn't have much interaction with Detective Bens?"

Scarlett looked up and saw that Garvey was looking at her boots again. She cleared her throat and Garvey slowly looked up at Scarlett's face. The deadpan look had been replaced with something else. An expression that, in Scarlett's opinion, conveyed longing. Scarlett immediately became apprehensive. This Garvey guy was giving her the creeps.

Garvey seemed to notice that Scarlett was eyeing him warily, and his demeanor slowly morphed back to deadpan. Scarlett inadvertently swallowed and looked away.

"I just asked her if I could help," Garvey said slowly. "What was wrong with her Cherokee. If I could contact someone for her. Stuff like that."

"I...I...see," Scarlett stammered.

"She had nice boots too," Garvey said with a grin. "Not as nice as yours, but nice nonetheless..."

Scarlett had taken an involuntary step backward. "Ah...okay, mister. I...ah...I guess I've got enough..."

Clarance Garvey took two steps toward Scarlett. "Do you have a card or something? In case I remember some detail that's slipped my mind..."

Scarlett almost tripped as he took two quick steps away from Garvey. "Ah...no...no, sir...I...ah...don't have a card..."

"Maybe we could..." Garvey started to say, but never got the chance to complete his thought.

Scarlett turned and walked away as quickly as she could without running. She said over her shoulder, and glanced to see if Garvey was following, "Thanks again, Mr. Garvey. I appreciate your time."

Garvey was not following. He was just standing there watching Scarlett leave with a mocking smile on his face.

Twenty minutes later, Scarlett was parked behind a McDonald's down the road from the DOT yard. After she just about sprinted to her Corolla and sped out of the DOT lot, she drove to the fast food restaurant, parked in the back and called the detective who was assigned to the Bens missing person case originally. She wanted to ask about Clarance Garvey, and if he had ever been considered a suspect. Unfortunately, the detective was not in the office, and Scarlett left her name and number with a secretary.

She had then searched all the data bases she could think of to find anything and everything on Clarance Eugene Garvey. The man was a ghost. Absolutely no social media accounts on any platform that Scarlett could think to look. She pulled up property tax records but found nothing. She was about to give up, when she thought about searching surrounding counties and finally got a hit.

Garvey owned property in an unincorporated area near Needmore, Georgia, in Echols County. A check on Google Earth showed a small residence surrounded by woods. She decided that she needed to go out to Garvey's place and have a look. She put the address in her maps program and pulled out of the lot and into traffic.

Scarlett started to call Tom but stopped. She knew for certain that Tom would tell her not to go. He would say it was just a puff piece and to pass along the information to the police detective whenever he called back. Scarlett put the phone down as she made her way toward the interstate.

Two hours later, Scarlett was in the outskirts of Needmore, Georgia. Garvey's property was a wooded area on a hill which was surrounded by cyclone fencing. The main route into the property had a rollaway gate. Scarlett circumnavigated the property and found no accessible areas to enter.

"Mr. Garvey certainly enjoys his privacy," Scarlett mumbled to herself.

She looked at her watch and figured Garvey would be working for at least another five to six hours before returning home. Add to that, Garvey would have to travel almost two hours, Scarlett assumed she had plenty of time to snoop around. She would be gone well before Garvey ever returned home.

Remembering the image of the property from Google Earth, the house was at the center of the property which she assumed was the top of this hill. The entire area was surrounded by thick Georgia pine trees. Scarlett found an area off the main road to park her Corolla, so no one would notice it. She grabbed her cellphone and crossed the street to the chain link fence.

The top of the fence had ringlets if razor wire on top, to prevent anyone scaling the barricade. She had not noticed the razor wire because of the low hanging pines which were covering the tops of the fence.

Scarlett was thinking there was no way she could get over the fence, when she saw an area to her left where some animal had dug under the barrier. By the size of the indentation in the dirt, Scarlett assumed it was a dog or a wild boar. She got down on her knees and studied the gap under the fence. She surmised she could fit but she would definitely get dirty in the process.

"All this for a Pulitzer," Scarlett said to herself and began wiggling her body under the fence.

Surprisingly, she made it to the other side easily with only the waistband of her jeans catching on the bottom of the fence. She stood up, brushed herself off as best she could and began walking through the trees, uphill, toward the house. The thick trees made terrain difficult to navigate, but Scarlett made decent time as she ascended the hill. After thirty minutes of walking, the trees began to thin out slightly, and she could see a clearing ahead.

Scarlett continued her upward trek until she reached the clearing and could see the house. She had emerged on the side of the structure. It was an old, unkempt ranch style home. The paint was pealing, several shutters were hanging loose or missing and the roof was in desperate need of reshingling.

Scarlett was not sure if anyone was in the house, so she decided to walk the treeline and observe the structure to see if there were any signs of occupancy. When she was in the rear of the home, Scarlett spied something in the woods. She debated ignoring it but did not want to leave anything behind her that would give away her intrusion.

She weaved her way through the trees and entered a small clearing that was filled with several vehicles in disrepair. They were covered with a military type of camouflage netting that ensured no one would see them from the air. Scarlett began to look at the vehicles. There were six in all, but there were several camo nets on the ground, and tire tracks, which led Scarlett to believe that other vehicles were here at one time.

All the cars were covered with pine needles and sap from the trees. Garvey had apparently got these vehicles in here via a small pathway that led from the clearing and left them to rot. Several had already been removed for one reason or another. She turned to leave this area, and make her way back to the house, when one of the vehicles caught her eye. It was apparently an SUV, by the size and shape of the body under the netting.

Scarlett approached the vehicle and lifted the netting. Under, she saw a gray Jeep Cherokee. For some reason, she thought this was important but could not remember why. She tried the front passenger door, and it was unlocked and opened with a little protest from the hinge that desperately needed some oil.

She maneuvered her way into the front passenger seat and looked around. The interior was clean for the most part but showed signs of abandonment. A musty smell, a layer of dust and one web in the area near the driver's seat, showed no one had been in this sport utility vehicle in a while. Scarlett opened the glovebox and pulled out a few sheets of paper. The only other thing in the box was the owners' manual, which she left there.

She started to look at the papers. One was a receipt for having the oil changed at a Jiffy Lube nine months ago. The second was a form letter about a recall for the vehicle that was two years old. The third made Scarlett freeze as her breath caught in her throat.

The paper was a vehicle registration from the State of Florida. The owner of the vehicle, this 2020 Jeep Cherokee, was Colleen Bens of Jacksonville.

"Holy shit..." Scarlett mumbled. "Holy Shit!"

She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her cellphone. She tried to call Tom Dean but the call did not go through. Scarlett pulled the phone from her ear and looked at the screen. He had no signal.

"What the hell?"

She realized she was breathing very hard and almost hyperventilating. She tried to calm herself as she weighed her options.

She knew she had to let someone know what she had found, and she had to do that sooner rather than later. With no phone signal, she knew she should get back to her car, or anywhere closer to the road, so she would have a signal and could inform the authorities that a vehicle of a missing Jacksonville detective was hidden on Clarance Garvey's property. She thought for a fleeting moment to try and make entry into the house, to see if anyone needed help, but she quickly dismissed that idea. She had to get the authorities involved immediately.

Scarlett extricated herself from the SUV after she took pictures of the SUV's registration with her useless phone and placing the papers back in the glovebox. She looked back at the house, which she could see clearly from where she was standing, and consciously tried to slow her rapid breathing. She turned and started to head in the general direction she thought she had entered the property at the fence line, when her right foot tripped on something and she heard a metallic tinging sound.

The pine needles littering the clearing erupted as Scarlett's feet were violently pulled tightly together, and she was pulled viciously to the ground, landing on her back. Before she realized what was happening, she was pulled across the ground and into the air by her now bound feet. Scarlett slammed back first into the tree in which the snare trap had been set, knocking her unconscious.

The next cognizant thought that Scarlett Wilde had was how much her head hurt. She had never experienced such an excruciating headache in all her 20 years. She wanted to bring her hands up to massage her throbbing temples, when she realized she was in serious trouble. Her hands were in the small of her back, palm to palm like he was praying, secured by an extremely tight binding. Her ankles and just below her knees were similarly bound.

Scarlett's eyes flew open, and she was greeted with only blackness. He tried to yell for help, but her mouth was packed full of some kind of foul-tasting cloth and bands of what felt like tape around the lower area of her face efficiently gagging her. She began to struggle against her bonds and realized she was laying on a cold concrete floor and all her clothing had been removed. Scarlett was completely naked.

She tried to call out, but the only sounds the emanated from the gag were grunts and "Mmmmpphh!".

She struggled for a long time but to no avail and finally fatigue and a pounding skull forced her to stop. She breathed heavily through her nose and tried to calm her thundering heart, as she tried to think about how she had come to this situation.

Then the memories began to flood her system. She had found Detective Bens' SUV and was going to the police, when something snatched her off the ground and then blackness. She had apparently stepped into some kind of trap and been knocked out when she was slammed into a tree. Now, she was bound tightly at the wrists, ankles and knees. All her clothing was missing and she was gagged. She could feel pressure all over her head and face and assumed she was wearing a tight hood. By the way it allowed her to breath freely through her covered nose, Scarlett assumed it was made of nylon or some other thin, stretchy cloth.