Page 3 of Kidnapping of a Myth

“Listen to me.” Bel pulled her phone out of her pocket. “In kidnappings, the first hours are crucial. Every second we don’t call the police are seconds where your brothers slip further away.”

“You don’t understand,” Wendy said.

“Are your brother’s minors?” Bel pushed. “In children’s abductions, if they aren’t found within the first few hours, they?—”

“You don’t understand!” Wendy shouted, and Bel flinched involuntarily at the aggression in her tone. “We can’t call the police. If we do… if we do, he’ll…” she dissolved into tears, and Henry wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“We’ve had contact with the kidnapper,” he finished for his wife. “We were instructed not to call law enforcement. If we do, the kidnapper claims he’ll kill the boys, and yes, they are minors. Michael is ten, and John is sixteen, but the instructions were clear. We call the cops, and they die. It’s why we called you, Mr. Stone. My wife’s late father seemed to believe you were a man who could help with… problematic situations.”

Bel swallowed as she glanced at Eamon, understanding her presence. They couldn’t call the police, so he’d brought the police to them. Only she was here without the station’s resources, and the gun against her back burned her skin as if to mock her inadequacy.

“I understand the threat made against your brothers is serious, but without the police, the chances of recovering them are slim,” Bel started.

“No.” Henry shut her down, anger radiating off his body. “These aren’t your brothers. We aren’t going to call the cops and get the boys killed because some stranger thinks she knows best.”

“Okay, okay.” Bel held her hands up in a placating gesture, her mind racing through their limited options. It didn’t matter that Wendy and Henry viewed her as an untrustworthy intruder. Children were missing, and Eamon had been smart to involve her. “I respect that this is your choice, but I had to voice my concerns. I’ll do my best to help, so I need to know everything. Start at the beginning and leave nothing out. Sometimes the smallest details are the most important.”

“This estate has belonged to my family for generations,” Wendy started, wiping her eyes with an embroideredhandkerchief. “It’s a far drive from the company, so we don’t live here. After my parents died, I inherited the family business and custody of my brothers, so we visit often to get away from the city. Life has been difficult since their passing, and…” She dissolved into tears. “Oh god, I can’t lose my brothers too.”

“Wendy, can I call you Wendy?” Bel leaned forward, her voice soft as she met the younger woman’s eyes. “I’m going to do everything I can to help your brothers. I realize this is hard, but you’re doing great.”

Wendy nodded, sniffling as she regained control of her emotions. “My brothers are enrolled in boarding school. They love it, and it’s easier for me to run the company without having to worry about getting them to school on time every day. We came here for a weekend visit, so our driver picked the boys up after class on Friday. They spent the weekend here with us, and then our driver drove them back to the city last night. Henry and I planned to stay for a few more days, but when we woke up this morning, I had a missed call from their school. The headmaster was wondering if I’d kept them on holiday with us because they never showed up for their classes. The teachers checked their dorms, but their beds were un-slept in.” Wendy paused as if to brace herself for her next words, and Bel breathed with her, preparing to hear something she knew would turn her stomach.

“After listening to the message, I went to return the headmaster’s call when I got an email notification.” Wendy grabbed her husband’s hand, visibly shaking as she recounted her terror. “I don’t know what made me do it. I needed to call their school, but something told me to read the email first. It was from an unknown sender, and it had a video attachment. I… oh god… I, um, called Eamon right after we saw it.”

“This video?” Bel asked, knowing she had to watch it but dreading it all the same. “Do you still have it?”

Wendy nodded.

“I’ll need to see it.”

“I left the email open.” Wendy crossed the room to where a laptop sat charging on a coffee table and delivered it to Bel. An email from a generic address filled the screen, but the body was void of text, its only contents a video attachment. Bel inhaled a fortifying breath and then pressed play.

A nondescript basement came into focus, concrete walls filling the frame. The lighting was synthetic, and no windows were visible, ensuring the location was impossible to decipher. There were no background noises, no objects, no voices, or even shadows. Whoever shot this knew what they were doing, and fear settled in Bel’s gut as a masked man dragged a metal folding chair into view and sat down. His clothes and mask immediately set her teeth on edge. It was as if he’d recreated a historical blacksmith’s outfit in a vaguely steampunk style, the brown leather apron undoubtedly a custom design. The mask covered his face and hair, but the section that shielded his eyes resembled vintage monocles. The suit concealed every inch of skin, and his appearance was the last thing Bel had expected. Kidnappings, especially those of children from wealthy families, usually revolved around money, but the theatrical character on the screen didn’t fit that narrative.

“Wendy Darling,” the man began, his voice altered to be unrecognizable, and Eamon stiffened beside Bel, clearly reaching the same conclusions about this video that she had. “Growing up is so boring. I didn’t want to grow up. I wish I hadn’t, which is why I took John and Michael to Neverland. They’ll never grow up now, never grow old or dull or ordinary. I’ve made John and Michael extraordinary. I made them interesting, Wendy Darling. The Tinker did that.”

Bel and Eamon exchanged a tense look at the man’s nonsense.

“I have your brothers,” The Tinker continued. “I took them to the second star on the right and straight toward morning. You’ll never see them again. They’re in Neverland now. They’ll never grow up, never get old, never get boring. Second star on the right. Second star on the right. That’s where they are. The second star on the right, and if you call the police, I’ll kill Michael and John and make you watch.”

The video ended, but no one spoke. No one moved. The four of them sat in horrified silence, and then Bel did the last thing she wanted to do. She played it again. She listened to every word, every pitch of The Tinker’s distorted voice. She studied the edges of the frame, his custom outfit, the steampunk monocles covering his eyes, and when the recording came to its threatening end, she felt sick. Sick and confused and scared. This wasn’t a ransom video. She wasn’t sure what kind of video it was, but she knew she was woefully unprepared to handle a case this alarming without backup.

Eamon stared at her, silently begging her to help this family, and Bel held his gaze for a long, indecisive moment. When she’d woken that morning, she hadn’t expected his actions to lead them here. She wasn’t confident she could survive a tragedy like this, especially when her life had only just returned to normal, but perhaps that’s why she needed to be here. Despite her pain, she understood the helplessness of being stolen, of waking up and realizing you weren’t safe. She was safe now. She felt it in the strength of Eamon’s gaze, in the pressure of his body pressed against her, in the way his broad chest rose and fell with every powerful breath. A monster hidden within human flesh protected her. But those boys? They weren’t safe, and if she left this house, they would die alone and afraid. That thought stoked a fire in her chest until she burned with purpose. The Bajka Police didn’t have her back, but Eamon Stone did, and his power would have to be enough.

Bel shifted to study the couple before her. They were both heartbreakingly distraught, which suggested they either had nothing to do with this kidnapping or they were incredible liars. In cases like this, motive often revolved around money or family disputes, but since no ransom had been mentioned and the couple seemed genuinely distressed, a more sinister meaning knocked on Bel’s mind. One she didn’t want to allow entrance.

“Your brothers were driven back to school last night.” Bel broke the silence, hating the words leaving her mouth. “That was the last time anyone saw them, so the timeline suggests they’ve been missing for over twelve hours. I don’t want to alarm you, but beating around the bush will do more harm than good, so may I speak plainly?” She paused, but the couple merely stared at her. “If you won’t call law enforcement, the four of us in this room are all your brothers have,” Bel pressed. “I need you to be informed of what the next hours will look like so you’re equipped to help me. My words will sound harsh, but I’m doing this to save your family. So might I speak plainly?”

“Okay…” Wendy didn’t sound convinced, but at least it was consent.

“In kidnappings involving minors, the first few hours are critical,” Bel continued. “According to the FBI, if a child isn’t found within three hours, they’re usually dead.”

Wendy screamed, clutching Henry’s shirt, and Bel unconsciously pressed her leg against Eamon’s powerful thigh for moral support. She loved her job, but in moments like this, she wished she hadn’t followed in her father’s footsteps. She wished she’d been more like her sisters; choosing office jobs and white picket fences instead of crime scenes and autopsy reports because admitting a child was most likely dead to a woman who’d already lost her parents was unbearable. Her words might be the truth, but they left her raw and ugly.

“Whoever filmed this video knew what they were doing. They appear crazy, yet there are no clues in this shot,” Bel continued as Eamon pressed his thigh against hers in reassurance. “There’s no background noise. No landmarks, no sunshine, or shadows. This was carefully planned. They also didn’t demand a ransom, which potentially means this isn’t about money. I understand why you don’t want to consider it, but we need the police and the technology at their disposal because if The Tinker isn’t demanding money, he’s after something that’ll make recovering your brothers alive significantly harder.”

“Are you stupid?” Henry jumped to his feet, and Eamon instinctively angled his body to shield Bel. “You heard what he said about calling the police! Are you trying to get the boys killed? Why are you pushing this, anyway? Mr. Stone believes you can help, but how? Are you a cop?” He threw Eamon an accusatory glare. “Did you bring a cop into our house and put our boys in danger?”

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