Taylor Benedict

Jamie Smith-McBeth
The Deep Pit
3:35 pm
A window blinked into life on my monitor notifying me that my date with Ashley Barns
was this evening. I scratched at my neck hating the feel of the collar of my button down shirt and
wishing I was wearing my usual jeans and t-shirt but today I needed to look good. I sat back a
little farther in my seat listening to the loud roar of ACDCs Hells Bells through my over-priced
Bose noise-cancelling headphones I had originally purchased for mountain biking. The
masseuse, Miss Swan, in the rented office space next to mine had complained that the music
from my cheap portable speaker interfered with her clients relaxation, which had forced me to
use my headphones at the office. Honestly, I dont mind too much, I enjoy listening to my music
loud.
As the song came to a close with a strong combined instrumental note I noticed the
silhouette of a couple behind the old wooden door with the words Jimmy Meyer Private
Investigator written on the misted glass pane. I pulled off my headphones and looked at my
clock again, I had still had over three hours before I needed to pick up Ashley for our dinner
reservation at La Flama De Espaa, an upper-class Mexican restaurant shed been dying to go
to since she moved to the big city three months ago. Figures, it seems work only shows up on
days Im praying it wont.
There were three firm raps on the door and I got up and moved across the small but
well-organized room that had become my home away from home for the last five years. I walked
to the door and opened it to find a tall man and a small woman, both wearing worried
expressions on their faces that made them look much older than what was probably written on
their drivers licenses. If they still drive that is - living in a city like Roxton where cars are bumper

to bumper from one side of the big city to the other, most people choose to take a cab or
subway. Looking at the couple, I would guess they were somewhere in their late 50s.
Everything about their body language screamed that they were desperate for help. Normally
solving peoples problems was my specialty, but I really didnt have time just then.
However, the man started speaking in urgent tones the second I opened the door, Mr.
Meyers, my name is Bob Henderson and this is my wife Silvia. We need your help, my son and
his family are missing.
Now, missing persons cases are usually handled by the police, so I was intrigued by
what could possibly bring these folks to me.
Call me Jimmy. I said, Come in and have a seat and well see what I can do.
They complied with my request and sat down next to each other on the two wooden
chairs across from me as I sat down behind my desk, the woman never letting go of her
husbands arm.
Alright Mr. Henderson, I understand that you are worried about your family. But Im
going to need to know a bit about the circumstances of the disappearances before I decide if I
am the right person to take your case. What is your sons name? When was the last time you
saw him? And who was he with?
Mr. Hendersons eyes locked on his wife and she started cry softly as he began, Our
sons name is Jared, his wifes name is Scarlett. We havent seen them in person for over a
month. We came up from Florida to visit for our granddaughter Lily Annes 5th birthday
tomorrow, but when we arrived at their home, nobody was there. The lights were off and the car
was gone. Weve called their phones a dozen times each, but neither answered. Eventually we
decided to let ourselves in through the back door using the spare key. When we got inside it
looked like nobody had been there all day. There was an open gallon of milk on the counter as if
they had left in a rush. But there was no note or anything saying where they had gone or when
they would be back. I have no idea where they could be. I mean, we spoke to Jared on the

telephone only the day before yesterday to make sure all the plans were in order for us to stay
with them. He said they couldnt wait to see us.
His voice caught as he finished and Silvia let out another quiet sob.
Have you called the police? I asked them.
We did. They came by and took a look around, but said there wasnt anything they
could do for us. They said theres no evidence that this is actually a missing persons case. That
they probably just forgot we were coming and went out of town. And that if we dont hear from
them in 24 hours, let them know. But we know that Jared wouldnt just leave the day before his
daughters birthday, its not like him. Something is wrong. Please, help us. Well do anything.
Whatever it costs. Whatever you need.
I leaned back in my chair and thought over what they had said for a moment. Maybe I
could just go to their home and poke around a little bit. Find a plane ticket or some sort of
evidence that leads to where the young Henderson Family had gone and cash in. Hopefully it
would only take a few minutes and I could be done with plenty of time to make it to my date.
Alright. I said looking into their watery eyes. Ill look into it. But I need to know
everything you know. Write it all down. Address. Description of the missing car. Physical
descriptions of your son, his wife, and their daughter. And finally, anything you know about
anyone with a grudge against your family.
You think someone would hurt our son? Mrs. Henderson asked, her eyes wide with
fear.
I dont know. I said, But if what youve said is true, and they didnt get up and leave on
their own, someone else is certainly involved.

4:15
Half an hour later I found myself standing outside a beautiful house with a white picket
fence and immaculately attended lawn and garden. A childs princess cottage with pink siding

and painted flowers along the bottom where the small garden would be sat beside the garage, a
small pink bicycle leaned against the side haphazardly. This was no cheap home, but I expected
that after Mr. Henderson told me that Jared was one of the youngest billionaires in the United
States. He had apparently single-handedly designed the revolutionary smartphone app that
blocks all pop-up advertisements and filters out certain content, like shopping ads for ones wife
or pornography for ones husband. Apparently he sold it to Apple for an insane amount of money
and he receives a royalty for each phone sold, so long as he promises not to try to take credit
for the creation of the app.
I walked around the back of the house like the Hendersons had said and found the
spare key hidden under a small flower pot with childrens fingerprints along the rim in red,
yellow, and blue finger paints. Inside the door everything was just as they had described it to
me. The marble countertop was strewn about with mail, crumbs from breakfast still littered the
table, and the sink was full of dishes. There was a huge professional portrait of the family in the
main living room. The man was tall just like his father. He wore glasses and a big genial smile.
He held one hand of a little girl with bouncing blond curls wearing a flowery dress, she had a big
grin on her face like she couldnt possibly be happier. Holding the other hand of the child was
her mother, Scarlett Henderson. Physically, she was looked as if she had been modeled after
descriptions of the Greek Goddess Aphrodite. Except her smile - there was something about it
that just didnt quite fit. I looked for a moment more then decided to move on. Maybe shed just
had a rough day, I thought to myself.
My least favorite part of my job is snooping around. I hate looking through other peoples
private things. Unfortunately, every so often, its the little private things that are the most
important clues, especially when someone is hiding or missing. I soon found the master
bedroom and started looking through the drawers trying to find anything that might possibly
point to where the Hendersons had gone. I came up with nothing more than clothes and
common household items. For the next 45 minutes, I went from room to room looking for any

obvious clues, but everything seemed to be absolutely normal, or at least as far as people can
be. Eventually I found myself sitting in Lily Annes little sanctuary of a bedroom.
The room was smaller than some of the others, but it looked just like a little princess
room would look. Everything was pink, purple, and baby blue. Toys were piled high in one
corner and a frilly princess dress was hanging on the foremost hanger in the open closet. Next
to the bed, there was a chair and small desk. On the desk there was an iPad with princess
stickers on the back. I thought to myself, what kind of 5-year-old needs an iPad? I continued to
wonder about it as I pushed the button on the bottom of the glass window and an image flashed
into life, featuring two slightly blurry faces as if a child had taken a so-called selfie. The face in
the forefront was the same little girl I had seen in the picture downstairs, though now she wore
badly applied lipstick, blush, and a tiara. The other face was her fathers, his appearance also
refined by the amateur application of too many beauty products, and he wore a smaller tiara. I
quickly scrolled through the rest of the photos on the iPad and noticed that they were all slightly
out of focus and almost all of them featured only the little girl and her dad.Very rarely, did the
beautiful face of Scarlett Henderson appear in the pictures. I continued on and started skimming
through the apps after I finished the pictures, now finding childrens games like Pony Princess
Power Jump and Unicorn Glitterluck, then my eye caught something strange.
It was an app called HiCalculator, an innocuous-sounding app used almost exclusively to
hide files, on a device. The app acts like a normal calculator until you put in the right numbers. It
then unlocks, allowing you the ability to store and access all kinds of information from videos
and pictures to jpeg files and documents. I looked at the app and thought about Jared
Henderson. What might his code be? Could it be his license plate? Or maybe the last lottery
ticket he bought, even possibly a phone number. Then It came to me, a date. I keyed in the
numbers 5192011. May 19, 2011, his only daughters birthday, tomorrows date.
What I found was everything I never wanted to know about the Henderson family. One
file folder was titled Legal Work. Inside it was information on what the legal processes were for

filing for divorce and what one would need to be able to prove to keep custody of a child. There
were pages and pages of information of forum discussions, how tos, and lawyer confessionals
and even statistics for all types of male vs female custody battles. Inside another folder named
Evidence Against, I found pictures, videos, and voice recordings, some seemingly harmless
and others absolutely incriminating in their sexual nature. After looking at a few images it hit me
that I recognized the woman who was in most of, if not all the documents. It was Scarlett
Henderson, Jareds wife. There were videos of her with some of the citys most powerful people
doing things that would make a father clench his teeth and go to the bottle and make mothers
cry. But that wasnt the worst of it. One image stood out from among the rest. It made my heart
stop for just a moment. It was an image of Scarlett Henderson at an outdoor caf with a darkhaired woman with dark eyes and pale skin. It would be easy to mistake her as a woman in her
late 30s, but I knew that wasnt the case. Her name was Violet Skyes, owner of International
Bank Violencia as well as the mostly unknown leader of the Viridians - an underground
organization that traffics drugs, weapons, and people in and out of the country. Skyes was as
dark and evil as the devil himself. She didnt play by the rules and nobody had ever been able to
keep her in check.
And so it appeared to me that Jared Henderson had found out that his absolutely
stunning wife had been leading a double life. He was building evidence against her so that when
he filed for a divorce he could guarantee that he was able to receive full custody of his daughter.
Unfortunately it hardly took any imagination to guess that Jared had underestimated the trouble
spying on his wife and her connections could land him in. It was now obvious to me that Jared
was, in fact, in deep trouble and if it had anything to do with the Viridians, he didnt have a lot of
time. I looked at the picture of the two women again. I realized then why the portrait in the living
room had put me ill at ease, the womans smile in the portrait was not real - it was a mask. The
smiling, happy family was a lie. Scarlett Henderson was living a double life and Jared and Lilly
were in trouble. I needed to make a call.

5:15
I was at the far end of town when I finally got off the phone with Lieutenant Patrick
OSullivan with the RPD. Pat and I had spent a lot of time together in the Navy, and since then
weve always kept in close contact with each other. He had decided be a police officer right after
he finished his first tour. He chose the family life over the life of a soldier and he quickly moved
up the ranks in the police department. He had actually gotten me a job as a police officer for a
couple years when I was forced to move on from military service. I tried the cop life for a while,
but was already tired of wearing a uniform and sucking up to the man at my ripe old age of 35.
Besides, I wasnt too excited about chasing petty thieves and giving out speeding tickets, so I
took what I had learned and became a Private Investigator, which ultimately, seemed to fit me
much better.
Pat gave me the low down on the Viridians - how they were untouchable. Apparently,
they have half the citys politicians, even the Mayor, on their unofficial payroll, making it almost
impossible for the police to get anything on them to stick. Luckily, I wasnt the police.
Pat told me about an abandoned factory outside of town that used to specialize in metal
working but was now nothing but rusted scrap metal and a couple dilapidated old buildings.
There had been local police chatter of Viridian meetings there in the past and Pat said it may be
a good place to start.
When I arrived it was just as Pat had described. A sea of rusty parts lay on both sides of
the dirt road making me feel like a modern-day Moses crossing the Red Sea on dry land. An
imperfect comparison I realized, as I slowly crawled through the decaying byproduct of the
twenty first century concrete jungle in my old Chevy truck trying not to miss anything that could
be important. As I pulled up to the building, I couldnt find anything to indicate anybody had been
there. It looked like the place had been abandoned for years. I killed the engine and the dull purr
of my car subsided into silence. I stepped outside of the car and surveyed the factory behind

sports sunglasses. I felt like a badass. Then realized, I probably looked ridiculous pairing my
grey slacks, white button down shirt, and black tie with my extra-wide polarized lenses designed
to protect ones eyes from both the sun and air at high speeds on a bicycle. What did I know
about fashion though?
I walked around the back of the building looking for any signs of the Viridians when I
heard mens voices above me. I stopped and looked up to see an open window just a floor
above, cigarette smoke billowing out the window. I looked around for a way to get in and saw
the rusty fire escape. I climbed up to the floor that the men were on and tried to make out what
they were saying.
The two men were talking about some sports game as the highlights on ESPN were
rolling on a TV somewhere in the room. I hadnt been listening to their conversation long when
one of the men asked the other for the time.
Shit, its 5:37. Lets get this over with.
The sound of the TV was cut off and they started moving out of the room. I knew now
was my best chance to get some answers. I climbed through the window and tailed the two men
as they walked down a hall to some stairs. I followed slowly behind them, making sure to control
my breathing and my steps to insure my foot falls matched theirs. I wanted to make as little
noise as possible. The men started to descend the stairs and I waited, counting the steps. After
twenty-five steps I started to follow and kept counting as best I could, listening for the louder foot
falls as I went.
After 100 steps, it finally dawned on me just how deep this basement really was. I
figured we were at least four floors down from ground level, but couldnt be sure. The
temperature was much colder and there was a distinct metallic smell in the air that made me
feel like I was in a car chop shop. I guess, in a way, I was.
The men finally reached the bottom of the stairs, the sound of the footsteps changing as
the men reached the bottom of the metal stairs and crossed some sort of concrete flooring.

When I finally reached the bottom, I saw them enter a large room. I crept up to the doorway and
looked inside. In the center of the room was a massive depression in the ground with no lights
around it so I couldnt see how deep it might have gone.
As I continued to survey the room, I noticed a table on the far end across the pit from
me. There sat Violet Skyes, staring directly at me with a small smile upon her face. Before I had
time to register that she knew I was there, I felt the cold metal of a gun against the back of my
head.
Violet clicked her tongue in an annoyed way, then spoke, Scarlett, please do allow our
guest to come in and sit down. No need to make a mess of the gentlemens dress shirt.
The gun was then slowly removed from my head, but it was replaced by a phantom chill
that caressed my skin. I walked forward into the wide room and skirted the pit, trying to get a
look down into the bottom but all I saw was abysmal blackness. When I arrived at the table
where Violet sat, I had a better look at the unofficial owner of Roxton City and realized that there
was really nothing special about her appearance, except for her eyes. They were utterly black.
There was no differentiation from her pupil and iris and they were completely unreadable. As I
stared at those emotionless eyes, I realized she was motioning for me to take a seat in the chair
across from her. I refused her offer.
When I finally got ahold of myself, I spoke, What a nice place you have here. Who is
your decorator? Im thinking about having my dark and creepy super-secret lair done up
similarly, though I would prefer not to have the giant pot hole in the middle. I wouldnt want to
twist my ankle. But hey, who am I to tell you how to build your hideout?
At that, Violets eyebrows went up and she laughed, the most malicious and snide sound
I had ever heard. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and the room felt about ten
degrees colder.
Oh, Mr. Meyers, your sense of humor is a breath of fresh air compared to the usual
company I entertain.

Her voice was slightly raspy like a person whose smoking habit is just starting to catch
up with them.
Im glad you came, she said, But Im afraid I wont be able to let you leave.
At that, one of the two men who lead me here went over to the wall and flipped a switch.
Lights came on, illuminating the room with so much white light I was temporarily blinded. I
looked around and realized the room was even bigger than I had initially thought. I could now
see the many doors around the room and finally glimpsed the bottom of the pit. It was about ten
feet deep and there was a man at the bottom. It took me a moment to recognize Jared
Henderson lying unconscious on his back, his right leg in an impossible angle, broken. Dried
blood covered one side of his face. I looked around the room again and saw Scarlett also
looking into the pit, pain on her face.
I looked at her and said, Did you ever love him?
She didnt speak for a second, but she looked straight into my eyes. Hers were a hazel
green and shimmering with the light of unshed tears, the gun still at her side.
Yes, and that is why he is here, she said, pain and anger coursing through her voice.
Violet laughed again from where she sat. I looked away from Scarlett and back to Violet. She
had a sick smile stretched across perfectly white teeth.
Im afraid we havent had the opportunity to meet Mr. Jamie Gordon Meyers.
She knew my real name nobody knew my real name. I rashly had changed it to James
before joining the military, having had enough verbal abuse for having the same name as the
head cheerleader and class prostitute at my high school. As well as the famous female singer
Jamie Blake whose music was straight garbage, but was on the radio every third song.
How do you know my name? I said slowly, trying to mask the fear and anger in my
voice.
Another laugh, this one creepier than them all.

Oh, Jamie, I know all about you. You went to the Naval Academy out of high school on
full scholarship and graduated top of your classes, double majoring in Aerospace Engineering
and Computer Science. You received awards for athletic performance in water polo as the team
captain and were awarded expert marksman awards for both the rifle and the pistol. After officer
Training School, you were asked to join the Navy Seals, but you turned them down to continue
your dream of becoming a pilot, just like your grandfather. You spent the next two years in flight
school, then five years flying a Boeing F/A-18E Super Hornet until all records stop when your
plane went down outside of Iraq in 2008, from here we are only able to put peices togethor.You
refused to be debriefed, but hospital records say you were brought in by a team on August fifth,
though you were reported missing twenty days before. Lets see, you were treated for severe
burns, three compressed disks, a cracked skull, fractured nose, compound fracture on your left
forearm and your right foot was amputated just above the ankle due to infection. Its a miracle
you survived. One can only imagine what was going through your mind as your jet fell to the
desert floor. The tone of her voice was mocking but cold like the sharp end of a surgical knife
cutting through my past with precision.
Images rushed through my brain. Memories that were reserved for my worst nights,
haunting me, robbing me of sleep. The rush of the wind in my ears. A white blur of a parachute.
Running, hiding, fighting, surviving. The pain I still felt where they had poured acid on my skin,
and the sound of the drill as holes were put through each one of my toes then the top of my foot,
but my throat had no more scream left and I could still feel the pain, though the foot was no
longer part of my body.
I brought myself back to the moment at hand and breathed deeply, steadying myself. I
looked at Scarlett. She was staring at me as if she just realized I was there, the gun pointed at
me again. I needed to focus on her. She was hurting. She was vulnerable.
I looked at her and said, Where is Lily?
She flinched at the name of her daughter. They had the same eyes and dimpled chin.

Is she here?
Scarlett nodded, a tear running down her cheek.
Violet hissed, Shut up, whore, you belong to me, as does the child.
Then the pieces fell together and I understood. Scarlett had been part of the Viridians
from the beginning, probably since she was Lilys age. She had been tasked to get to Jared
Henderson and steal all his money, but instead of manipulating him and taking his money by
gaining access to his bank, she had fallen truly in love with him. They were married and had a
child. The images and videos on the iPad I saw werent taken by Jared, but by Violett before
they were together, which meant
I looked at Violet and said, You slimy manipulating bitch. You gave Jared those pictures
and made him think Scarlett had been cheating. When he told Scarlett he wanted a divorce, she
was devastated and you were ready and waiting for Scarlett to come crawling back and bring
you the money. There is nothing like a woman scorned by the man she loves. Right? But there
must have been a snag... She couldnt get to the money, and thats why Jared is in the pit. You
still dont have it.
I turned to Scarlett, You tried to leave the Viridians over 6 years ago didnt you, and you
thought you had. You wanted to believe you had. Violet had reached out to you every so often
pretending to be there for you and congratulating you on being happy like a mother or a friend
would. She probably told you that no matter what, she would be there for you. But really she
was just waiting for the time when love faded. But when it didnt, she took matters into her own
hands, leading us to this moment.
Scarlett looked at me, the blood completely draining from her face as the words sunk in.
Then she looked at Violet and asked, What pictures? as she slowly raised the gun level
with the woman with pale skin and dark midnight eyes.
Violet let out a low chuckle and said,You wont shoot me. I, who raised you as my own
sister. I taught you how to protect yourself. I provided a home for you. I gave you everything you

have ever had and this is how you repay me? By running away with some rich pretty boy? We
were going to use that money to take over the whole city and together have ownership of all of
Roxton, not just a few idiot politicians and a drunk of a mayor. Its clear that you are of no use to
me anymore. Take care of them boys.
Then as if on cue the room was plunged into darkness
Finally, I thought. I dove for where Scarlett had been, pinning her to the ground, trying to
find the gun before she had time to shoot anyone. Luckily, Scarlett wasnt expecting the lights to
go out. I got a hold of the gun and pushed away from her, hoping to get her into the pit and out
of harms way, but she was stronger than I had given her credit for. She grabbed onto my shirt
digging in with her fingernails, successfully popping a couple of the buttons, but my push was
strong enough that the momentum pulled us both over the edge.
At exactly the same time, automatic rifle fire zoomed directly over our heads. Violet
screamed something and the men immediately stopped shooting. Moments later, I heard the
click of a lighter and a dull glow surrounded a small area on the far side of the room where one
of the men stood. Idiot, the problem with using a lighter is it acts more like a target then a torch.
I waited till the thug got close enough to the edge for me to get a good shot. I took aim and fired
the gun three times in quick but controlled succession at the source of the light, and then
dropped back down to a crouch, rolling towards the edge of the pit. Suddenly everything was
bright for a split second and I heard a loud bang and pop. My ears immediately started ringing
and I realized someone had thrown a flashbang grenade.
Disoriented I fell back and tripped over something. When I got my mental bearings I
realized I was laying on my back. Slowly my vision came back and I saw faint beams of light
moving above me. The ringing in my ears didnt go away, but it became manageable. I didnt
move for a few moments, just waited, listening to men yell, Get on your knees and put your
hands on your head.

I noticed a wet warm feeling on my chin and realized I must have hit it at some point
when we fell into the pit. I also became acutely aware of a pain deep inside my skull behind my
eyes, and along the side of my right knee, and just above my elbow. I heard a police officer
reciting someone their Miranda rights. I then looked over to where Jared had been lying and
saw the outline of Scarlett cradling his head and crying, Im sorry, Im so sorry.
I moved over to them and put my fingers against the side of Jareds neck checking for a
pulse and felt the dull pump of his heart beat rushing blood through his body.
I put my hand on Scarletts shoulder and said in what I hoped was a reassuring tone,
Hes going to be okay.
Then I moved to the edge of the pit towards where the beams of light were and called
out, Hey Pat, what the hell took you so long?!
Then I was blinded again by an over-powered flashlight that too many pompous cops
just loved to put in peoples faces whenever they got the chance. Someone whistled, then a
familiar voice said, Dammit Jimmy, why don't you ever let the police do their job?
Because the police have this jack-ass lieutenant who has to compensate for little man
parts by shining his big bad extra powerful flashlight in the eyes of anyone who has bigger man
parts than him. Now help me out of this hole.
Patrick OSullivan reached down and pulled me up and out of the pit just as the lights
kicked back on. I reached in my pocket and pulled out a small military microphone bug
connected to a wire, then a battery from under my shirt and handed it over to the Police
Lieutenant.
What time is it?
Pat looked at his watch. Half past six. Why?
Shit! Im going to be late for my date! Ive got to go. Everything is on the bug-oh and get
an ambulance for the man in the hole. The woman can explain everything and tell you where to
find the child. Ill call you tomorrow to see how it went. Great work, Officer.

Before he could say anything, I was already in the hallway and running up the stairs.
7:05
The elevator climbed slowly to the 14 floor of Ashley Barns apartment building and I
th

surveyed my appearance in the shiny metal doors. There was dried blood on my collar that I
had unsuccessfully tried to hide under my suit coat as best I could. My shirt with its missing
buttons was tucked tightly behind my jacket and tie. My grey pants were in bad shape. A small
rip began along the seam on the inside of one knee and my dress shoes were scuffed and dirty.
Now is when I really wished I knew how James Bond always seemed to keep his suits in
pristine condition.
The elevator doors opened and I walked down the hall to room 438 and knocked three
times. Ashley came to the door a few moments later. She wore a dazzling black dress with silver
stones accentuating the curve of her breasts and waist. Her long wavy brown hair was gathered
all on one side sweeping gently past her shoulder. She looked me up and down, taking in my
appearance and then she giggled, a sweet pure sound that would make the most senile old man
smile.
Im disappointed Detective Meyers. I thought a detective could at least figure out how to
dress to impress a woman. And what, no flowers? she said with a twinkle in her eye.
Now it was my turn to laugh. As we made our way back to the elevator, arm in arm, I
could not help but hope I would have plenty of opportunities to figure out how to impress her.