The Hidden Daughter

Something was… off. It wasn’t too noticeable, nor was it very subtle, but Isaiah Huxley couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He knew that he’d be scolding himself for being so stupid once he found out what it was, but right now he was just trying to quell the anxiety that was slowly rising.

Currently, he stood in the mudroom off the side of the kitchen, just past the drawing room where most of the Gazember family sat, talking quietly to each other. Of course, not all of the family was there; the youngest, Alice, had been kidnapped recently, and none of the current inhabitants of the house were oblivious to this fact. However, not everyone seemed especially upset about it either, and that fact didn’t escape Huxley’s notice. It was his job, after all, to be observant. He wouldn’t be a very good detective if he wasn’t.

In his 12 year career, Detective Isaiah Huxley had solved over 16 cases for various celebrities, but none were quite like this one. The others had all been concerning thefts of expensive objects or investigations into spouses and whether they’d been cheating or not. Although all of his previous investigations had been simpler, all his clients had hired him for one reason in particular: he always kept the cases under wraps, never informing the media unless it was requested of him. He liked the freedom of not having the press breathing down his back and criticizing his every mood, and many of his clients appreciated the privacy. 

This was why the Gazember’s hired him: They didn’t want anyone to know about their daughter’s kidnapping. At first he thought it was reasonable of them, not wanting to be interrogated or suspected while they were so distraught over their family member, but now Huxley was beginning to think it was for another reason. 

As he was observing the rest of the house, looking for clues as to how or why Alice had been kidnapped, he noticed some other things. Some very expensive things. First it was the golden lamps in their drawing room, then the golden light switches in the bedrooms and the golden toilets in their bathrooms, not to mention the golden pills in the bathroom for urination, or the individually wrapped ice cubes in the kitchen and dining rooms. All of it was valuable, excessive, and completely impractical, and Huxley began wondering where they got all the money to purchase these things. 

Even though the Gazembers were the 11th richest family in America, they couldn’t possibly have enough money to buy all of this crap and still be debt-free, Huxley had thought. Of course, barely anyone would know that they were broke since the Gazembers used a private bank and were typically very tight-lipped about their earnings and finances, only letting the country know that they were wealthy through their possessions. So where are they getting the money?

Despite being suspicious, Det. Huxley continued the Alice investigation, telling himself to look into the money issue later. Everything he knows right now is as follows: She was kidnapped at night while she slept, which is why no one heard if she cried out; the kidnappers went through her window (the lock was broken); the kidnappers knew that the Gazembers were rich because they had demanded a $600,000,000 ransom; none of the Gazembers’ various security cameras caught any of the kidnappers, leading Huxley to believe that they’d been tampered with before or after the crime. 

All of these clues point to one thing: he doesn’t know much. Huxley runs his hand through his long brown hair, silently going over all the clues that he had. As he ties his hair back up in a bun, he decides that he’ll (unfortunately) have to interview the family again in order to gain any more knowledge.

Hopefully this is the last time I’ll have to do this, the detective thinks, These people are insufferable. Do they not know the definition of humility? He walks out of the mudroom, back to the drawing room.

“Mrs. Gazember, would you mind if I pulled you aside for a few minutes? I’d just like to go over everything again, in case I missed anything the first time.”

“Of course, of course! Anything for the darling man who’s helping bring our beloved daughter home. Here, we can go upstairs to the study, have some privacy.” She stands up and starts to guide Huxley to the stairs, constantly touching her platinum blonde hair as she does, making sure nothing is out of place. 

Before he follows, he turns back to the men. “I’ll just be a few minutes. Please wait here in the meantime, I’d like to interview you both as well.” This earns him two nods and he turns, following the fading sound of heels click-clicking on the marble floor.

Upstairs, Huxley finds Mrs. Gazember sitting on one of the vibrant floral lounge chairs. She seems to be perfectly composed, but once she notices the detective, she quickly becomes more distraught. Odd, he thinks, but brushes it aside. It’s probably just from all the stress she’s going through right now. He enters the room and sits down across from her. 

“Now, Mrs. Gazember, I know you’re going through a lot right now, and I can’t imagine it’s very easy for you, but I’d like you to restate everything you told me earlier. How did you find out what happened, what did you do before calling me, all of that.” He takes out a notebook and pen, preparing to jot down her words. “Okay, whenever you’re ready.”

She brings out a handkerchief and dabs at her eyes a little, before starting with a sniffle. As she does, Huxley can’t help but notice that the handkerchief is still dry.

“Well, it was 11a.m. and I had just sent Brad upstairs to wake her up because she had slept in again, probably because she stays up so late reading books instead of getting her beauty sleep like her mother.” This last part is said with disdain and the detective writes down, ‘Alice stays up late. Reads. Mother not pleased.’ 

“Ok, how did Mr. Gazember notice she was gone?”

“Well, he told me that he knocked on her door, like he does every morning, before opening it to find that her bedsheets were completely askew. Of course, this is normal for her since that lazy girl can’t make a bed to save her life, but then Brad noticed that the window was open. He told me that he thought she might’ve snuck out during the night, but then he looked closer and saw that the lock was… well, it was broken.” Mrs. Gazember suddenly lets out a sob, bringing out her handkerchief again and daintily blowing into it. Huxley politely, albeit awkwardly, jots, ‘Lock broken. Sheets usually messy. Typical for Alice to sneak out?’ and waits for her to finish and smooth out her skirt before continuing.

“Well, after that I don’t remember too much. I know Shahtoosh, our wonderful son, found your number from when a friend gave it to us and Brad called you. Next thing I know, you were knocking on the door and looking around our house.” Mrs. Gazember looks down, flustered. Huxley writes a few more things, notably, ‘Loves son,’ and, ‘Doesn’t remember much,’ and turns his attention back to her. 

“Do you remember checking the security cameras? At one point, during my earlier investigation, you went to the security room, stating that you’d try to see if there’s anything in the footage.”

“Well, now that you mention it, I do remember that. You were going to look outside and I thought I’d take care of some of the work for you, focus my mind on something else. Unfortunately, I didn’t see anything. Did you?” she asks.

The detective hesitates before answering, “No, I didn’t find anything either. I’ll be going back through the footage later, though, in case I missed anything, though I doubt that I did.”

“Well, thank you for trying. Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?”

“No, I think that’ll be all. Thank you for your time.”

Mrs. Gazember gives Huxley a small smile before standing and leaving the room, adjusting her hair as she leaves. 

Detective Huxley watches her go, suspicions creeping up. He did, in fact, notice something, but he wouldn’t tell anyone he didn’t trust. 

The security footage had been altered.

Over the course of the next hour, Isaiah Huxley interviewed the two other family members, with little variation to their answers. Mr. Gazember also seemed distressed, but more so because of the fact that Alice apparently “didn’t care about her own safety enough to actually lock her window tight enough.” Huxley didn’t comment on this statement, choosing to write it down instead. How had Mr. Gazember known that it wasn’t locked very well? He and his wife just told me the he noticed it was locked. Mr. Gazember proceeded to make some more rude and demeaning comments about his daughter before the detective decided to stop the interview.

When the Gazembers’ son, Shahtoosh, was interviewed, he gave much of the same answer as the others did, except this time it was inadvertently revealed that he had heard a shout shortly before falling asleep. Again, Huxley decided not to ask why he hadn’t gone to investigate, instead listening to the son’s interview devolve into a rant about cool cars that he’s wrecked for about a minute before dismissing him.

Now Huxley sits alone in the study, his legs crossed and his notebook on his lap, going over his notes. It seems like Mrs. Gazember wasn’t very sad that Alice was missing. In fact, she seemed more irritated than anything. And it also seems like she doesn’t know much about what Alice does, except that she reads. She doesn’t even know if Alice typically sneaks out or not! The same goes for Mr. Gazember and their son; neither of them really know much about how Alice acts or what she typically does everyday.  He looks back through his notes from the day and notices something strange: there were pieces of each interview that didn’t match with the other interviews, and they all seemed to be connected. Suddenly, his blood ran cold and his face grew pale as he internally smacked himself.

“How could I’ve been so stupid!” he whispers in horror. “Alice wasn’t kidnapped by random people demanding a ransom, it was her family all along!” 

All the clues came together: The shout Shahtoosh had heard was Alice’s, right before she was incapacitated; the messy sheets were from her being dragged out of bed; Mr. Gazember knew that the lock wasn’t tight because he loosened it beforehand; Mrs. Gazember wasn’t distraught because she organized the kidnapping. And the m.o? The Gazembers were broke because they spent all their money on stupid, stupid products. No one needs anything gold, and they definitely don’t need individually wrapped ice cubes. Of course these imbeciles are broke. 

The detective quickly forms a plan and rushes downstairs as quickly as he can without seeming suspicious. Thankfully, it seems like everyone had left to do who knows what, allowing him to have unhindered access to the tampered security footage. In less than 30 minutes, Huxley is able to revert the footage back to its original state and sees a girl with long brown and purple hair being stuffed into the back of a van. The cameras are high quality, though, meaning that he’s able to capture the license plate number.

Huxley goes outside to his car and uses his tablet to connect to the CCTV cameras positioned around the city. This allows him to track the van as it stupidly takes a direct route to an abandoned building about 15 minutes away from the Gazembers’ house. He puts the address into his GPS and speeds off. 

Huxley arrives at the building and parks across the street, not wanting to appear suspicious. He casually glances around before crossing the street, having determined that no one was outside to prevent him from coming in. The detective approaches the door on the side of the building and gently pushes it open, hoping that no one hears the loud creeeak as the hinges squeak. After waiting about 30 seconds, he cautiously enters. He sees no one, but doesn’t let his guard down. After all, he doesn’t know how far the Gazembers are willing to go to keep their secret.

He creeps through the halls, still coming across no one. It’s very suspicious, but he won’t take it for granted. Instead, he continues at a steady pace and eventually comes across a pair of double doors with a board through the handle. Huxley peers around one last time before sliding the board out and delicately pulling the handles, opening the doors.

Inside, he can see a girl lying on her side in the middle of the room. He scans the area before rushing to her side, hoping that she isn’t dead. He reaches her before he’s suddenly flipped painfully onto his back and he can feel a heavy weight on his chest. 

“Who are you? What’re you trying to do to  me?!” Huxley shakes his head clear and looks up. There, pinning him down in a defensive position, is Alice. He recognizes her long brown hair with purple streaks, and notices that she has an undercut, too. He’s snapped out of his observations when she slaps his face, shouting, “Well?!”

“Wait, wait! I’m here because I was hired by your family to find you!” He quickly regrets saying this because it seems to have made Alice more angry. “But, but- wait! Don’t hit me! I found out what they did and I came here to rescue you! Although you clearly don’t need it.” This last part is muttered but Alice seems to hear it anyway. Her bold green eyes burn into him for another second before she gets off of him and steps a few feet away. 

“Okay, what’re you gonna do next, since I don’t need saving?”

“Well, truthfully I hadn’t thought of that yet, stupid on my part, but I should probably call the police and have you explain what happened to them.”

“Why haven’t you called the police already?” she asks with a suspicious undertone in her voice.

“Because I’m a detective that people hire when they want things kept under wraps. I typically don’t involve the authorities, but this is a definite exception.”

She considers his words before reluctantly believing him. “Fine. Call them. But make it quick, I want out of here ASAP.”

She watches as he pulls his phone from his pocket and calls the cops, standing a few feet away the entire time. In what seems like no time at all, the police arrive and take their statements. They have Alice get in the ambulance that came, too, so they can make sure she’s not physically harmed. 

Later that evening, the rest of the Gazembers are brought in for questioning and are subsequently arrested. A news story runs a few days later, detailing the investigation and arrest of the wealthy family. Their bankruptcy was also revealed, resulting in the seizure and removal of most of their possessions.

Huxley sits in his office and reads the story, a smile spreading across his face when he learns that 19 year-old Alice Gazember will be financially okay because she had been working the night shift at a bookstore across town for a few years now. Apparently, she had been waiting for an opportunity to finally escape her family in order to fulfill her dream of becoming a teacher and author. He laughed when he learned what kinds of stories she wanted to write.

Mysteries.