FanStory.com - Veil of Secrets - Chap 3by Begin Again

The forensics lab buzzed with activity, the faint hum of machinery blending with the murmur of voices. Garth leaned against the edge of a counter, his arms crossed as he watched the lead forensic analyst, Dr. Olivia Marks, review the evidence.

"Our findings don't align with the preliminary reports," Olivia began, her tone grave.

"What do you mean?" Garth asked, straightening slightly.

"Original police reports suggest that two buses collided — one fell into the ravine, and the other rolled near the highway. It sounded straightforward at first. But —" Olivia tapped on her keyboard, pulling up a series of side-by-side images on her monitor. "The physical evidence from the two buses doesn't align with a single collision."

Garth frowned. "Two buses, one accident scene — it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure one bus rammed the other."

"That's what someone wanted us to think." Olivia pointed to the screen, highlighting tire marks and debris patterns. "Look here: the angles, the force of impact, and even the debris trajectory — none of it matches. These buses didn't collide. Someone staged this to look like they did."

Garth's voice sharpened, "Staged? Why would someone go to that much trouble?"

"The prison bus," Olivia said, her voice steady. "Its damage shows deliberate impact — consistent with being run off the road. The orphanage bus, on the other hand — its damage looks controlled. It was as if someone wanted to create chaos without targeting the passengers directly."

Garth exhaled, his mind racing. "So, two separate accidents disguised as one? To what end?"

Olivia clicked through more images, revealing tire tracks in the forest. "Two distinct sets of tire tracks tell the story. The first set, closer to the crash site, is fresher and matches vehicles that could've staged the orphanage bus accident. These tracks lead to the forest where Doyle and Rossi escaped."

"And the second set?" Garth asked.

She pointed to a satellite view of the area. "About a mile out, obscured and intentionally covered. These tracks don't match the first group. They're older but precise, suggesting another party lying in wait — most likely, whoever intercepted Doyle and Rossi after their escape."

Garth's jaw tightened as the weight of her words sank in. "Two groups," he muttered. "One sets up the chaos, and the other moves in to take Doyle and Rossi."

Olivia nodded. "That's the theory."

Garth's mind churned. "If Doyle's gone, one of these groups has him. But which one?" He clenched his fists, the frustration evident in his tone. "The mob had every reason to break him out — he's their key to expansion. But what if the second group isn't a rival? What if they're tied to something else entirely?"

"Something bigger?" Olivia suggested.

"Or something worse," Garth added darkly. "We need more than guesses. Keep working those tire tracks, Olivia. We need to know who was there and why."

*****

Later that evening, Garth, Donatelli, and Danni gathered in Donatelli's office. The scent of fresh coffee hung in the air. The tension was high as Garth delivered forensics findings.

"So, we're looking at two separate groups," Donatelli said, pacing. "One staging the orphanage bus crash to create a diversion, and the other targeting the prison bus to get Doyle and Rossi."

Danni, perched on the edge of Donatelli's desk, folded her arms. "Any idea who these groups are?"

"Not yet," Garth admitted. "But the level of coordination? This isn't amateur hour. Someone with serious resources is behind this."

Donatelli ran a hand through his hair. "If it's the mob —"

"Don't go pointing fingers at Frankie," Garth snapped. "And I've got my doubts about Jack as well."

"Cool your jets, Cowboy." Donatelli lifted his coffee mug to his lips, savoring the aroma as much as the taste. "As I was about to say, the New York mob was our first guess. DeLuca has been hearing rumblings about people trying to make connections in the area. Doyle has connections with them; they'd have every reason to want him out. If they want in, he'd have the connections. But now —"

"Now we're looking at a second group," Danni finished. "Which complicates everything. What's their motive?"

Garth leaned forward, his voice lowering, "The mob might've been outmaneuvered. If it wasn't them, then who? And more importantly, why?"

Danni tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Jack Lexington could be a target here. The New York mob might frame him to shift attention away from themselves."

Donatelli frowned. "Jack's kept his hands clean enough to avoid this kind of fallout, but he's not exactly innocent. This would be the perfect setup if someone wanted to take him down."

"What about allies?" Danni asked. "Does Jack have anyone in New York who could give us insight into what's happening?"

Garth hesitated before speaking, "He's got a friend — Marcus Bennetti. He's a retired detective but still keeps tabs on the underworld. If anyone knows what's going on, it's him."

*****

Donatelli tapped his pen against his notepad, his mind racing with the implications of the forensics report and Garth's intel. "We've got two separate groups — one foreign, one domestic. And most likely, one of them has Doyle and Rossi."

"If Doyle is involved, it's not just about expanding into the territory. There's big money to be gained," Garth snarled.

"The art scene has been quiet. I'm not saying it's not that, but neither Dylan nor Eleanor have mentioned any rumblings. And I know they both are keeping close tabs on the situation," Danni interjected. "Could the pharmaceutical company have switched gears after we shut down the pageant deal?"

"I doubt it. They wanted to stop the advancement of drugs, not increase illegal sales. There's no money to gain in that process," Donatelli responded.

"What's left, then? What other corruption was Doyle involved in?" Danni asked.

Garth and Donatelli exchanged glances, both nodding. "Smuggling! Human trafficking — he was in deep." Garth tipped his Stetson back on his head. "He almost sold Megan, Eleanor's niece, didn't he?"

"Yup, that man didn't care who or what he destroyed. If I remember correctly, a lot of internationals got swept up in that bust."

You mean, instead of women, they've switched to children?" Danni shivered. "Like the missing boy?"

Donatelli sighed. "We have no leads. But if one of these groups is connected —" Before anyone could respond, a sudden chill swept through the room. Papers fluttered slightly, and Danni's coffee cup rattled on the edge of the desk.

Eleanor materialized.

Her expression was serious, her usually composed demeanor tinged with urgency. In her hands, she held a small, worn shoe. She stepped forward, placing it gently on Donatelli's desk.

"What's this?" he asked, his gaze flicking from the shoe to her face.

Eleanor's voice was laced with tension, "I found it near the rose garden at the mansion. I think it belongs to the missing boy."

Garth stepped closer, leaning over the desk to examine the shoe. "How can you be sure?"

Eleanor's expression didn't waver. "Look at the photo." She gestured to the file Danni had brought earlier. "The stitching, the color. It's identical."

Danni picked up the boy's photo and held it next to the shoe. Her eyes darted between them. "She's right. It's the same."

The room went silent again as the weight of Eleanor's discovery settled over them.

"Where exactly did you find this?" Donatelli asked, breaking the tension.

"Near the rose garden," Eleanor repeated. "I haven't been able to find Miriam either. She's still missing. I've been searching for her, but there's no sign of her. Trust me — this shoe, it's a sign. She was trying to protect him. I know it."

"Protect him from what?" Garth asked, his skepticism clear.

Eleanor hesitated for a moment before meeting his gaze. "Something darker than I've felt in a long time. It's not just human hands at work here."

Garth let out a low whistle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Great. First the mob, now some supernatural spookiness. Forgive me, Eleanor, but they didn't cover ghosts in FBI 101." He shook his head and mumbled, "I'm sorry, but this entire case seems surreal."

Danni, ignoring Garth's sarcasm, focused on Eleanor. "You think Miriam found the boy? That she was hiding him?"

"I do," Eleanor said firmly. "She must have sensed the danger and tried to keep him safe. But something went wrong. I can feel it."

Donatelli picked up the shoe, turning it over in his hands. "If this boy was at the mansion, and Miriam was involved, then whoever's behind this might've taken her to get to him."

"Which means they're desperate to cover their tracks," Danni added. "And it wasn't random if the boy was at the mansion. Someone brought him there."

Eleanor's expression darkened. "And they're still looking for him. Miriam wouldn't give him up easily. That's why she's missing."

Garth's jaw tightened. "Then we need to figure out who's behind this, and fast."

Donatelli nodded, carefully placing the shoe back on the desk. "The first step is confirming that this shoe belongs to the boy. If it does, it gives us a direct link between him and the mansion."

"And Miriam," Eleanor said softly. "She's trying to reach us, but something's holding her back."

Donatelli tapped the shoe against his palm, his gaze distant. "If the boy was at the mansion, and Miriam was involved, this might be bigger than we thought."

Eleanor's form flickered, her frustration evident. "This land has always been a magnet for darkness, Matthew. The shoe is just the start."

Garth leaned back, crossing his arms. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you saying this has happened before?"

Eleanor hesitated — a shimmering glow outlined her body. "Not like this. But the mansion's history is complicated. Especially when it comes to Cornelius Webb."

Danni tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "Cornelius Webb? I've heard the name — he's tied to the Webb Estate next door, isn't he? Rebecca mentioned the family once."

Eleanor's expression darkened. "He's more than tied. Cornelius Webb is why the town hung Miriam on her wedding day."

The room fell silent. Even Garth, who rarely held back, looked momentarily stunned. The revelation about Cornelius Webb and the town's past actions had sent a shockwave through the room, leaving everyone speechless.

"You mean —" Danni's voice trailed off, her wide eyes locked on Eleanor.

Eleanor nodded — her voice heavy. "Miriam wasn't just some random victim of a mob. Cornelius framed her. He coveted the land this mansion stands on — the vineyard, the caves beneath it. He wanted it for his own purposes. When Trevor — Miriam's husband — discovered the truth about Cornelius' activities, Cornelius killed him. Then, he accused Miriam of witchcraft and murder. The town turned against her, and they hung her before she could clear her name."

Garth let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "And now Rebecca owns this place? Dammit, Eleanor, how does something like that not come up sooner?"

"It wasn't relevant until now," Eleanor replied calmly. "Cornelius' obsession with this land didn't end with his death. His spirit lingers. And now that his great-nephew, Grayson, has inherited the Webb Estate, I fear Cornelius is using him to continue his schemes."

Donatelli rubbed his temples, piecing the information together. "So, Cornelius wanted this land for what? The caves beneath it? What's so special about them?"

Eleanor's voice grew quieter, "They were used for smuggling — decades ago — alcohol, artifacts, and, at one point, people. Cornelius had big plans for the tunnels. Plans that Miriam disrupted when she and Trevor uncovered them."

Danni's expression turned grave. "If Cornelius is still influencing things, and Grayson's involved, that makes this even messier."

Garth's jaw tightened, his hands forming fists. "If Grayson's snooping around Rebecca, he'd better have a damn good reason, or I'll make sure he regrets it."

Eleanor placed a calming hand on Garth's shoulder. "He may not even realize the full extent of what's happening. Cornelius has always been manipulative. Grayson could be a pawn in his game."

Donatelli tapped his pen against his notepad again. "We're already juggling two mobs and a missing boy. Now, we have a vengeful ghost and a possible accomplice in Grayson Webb. Fantastic."

Eleanor's gaze shifted back to the shoe. "This boy's disappearance is tied to all of it. Miriam must have sensed the danger and intervened. That's why she's gone."

"You think Cornelius is involved in all this?" Danni asked.

"I do," Eleanor said firmly. "And if Cornelius is manipulating Grayson, then Rebecca's at risk, too. We need to act quickly."

Garth pushed away from the counter, his anger simmering. "First thing's first —we confirm the shoe belongs to the boy. After that, we need to keep an eye on Grayson. If he's working with Cornelius, I'm not giving him the chance to hurt Rebecca."

"Or Miriam?" Donatelli added.

Eleanor's form flickered again, a sign of her frustration. "She's calling for help, Matthew. She's trapped somewhere close but hidden. I'll find her."

Danni's voice broke the tension, "And what about the boy? If Cornelius or someone else is tied to his disappearance, then the mansion might not be the last place he was taken."

Donatelli stood, his mind already racing with the next steps. "We've got too many threads and not enough answers. Let's confirm the shoe and keep digging into the mansion's history. Eleanor, if you pick up anything else from Miriam, let us know immediately."

Eleanor nodded, her form steadying as her resolve grew. "I'll keep searching. But tread carefully, Matthew. Whatever we're up against, no one is safe."

As Eleanor vanished, the room grew colder, the weight of her words settling over them. Garth broke the silence with a muttered curse, his frustration evident.

Garth growled, "Two mobs, a missing boy, and now a ghost hunt. What the hell did Doyle get us into this time?"

Donatelli shot him a look. "It's a powder keg. And we're sitting on top of it."

"This was supposed to be a simple winding down after the new year; now we're knee-deep in something, and it's not my downtime with Rebecca."

Donatelli offered a grim smile. "Welcome to Bayside, Cowboy."