Nine months before Trixie and Jim's unearthing-

'Well,' Missy waited with impatience, as she looked at the blond, cropped man seated behind Matthew Wheelers impressive desk, 'what do you think?'

'Over all,' Mart stated blandly, handing back the copy of her screen play, 'I liked it.'

'But…' she demanded, a theatrical eyebrow rose. 'I came to you for a critical analysis, not Mr Peter Jones.'

'Please don't try blackmail, Missy,' the comment drew a smile from Mart. He'd underestimated Di's partner. Few knew his Journalistic alter ego. She'd been smart enough to figure it out, which left Mart in a dilemma. Who else would put the pieces together in the right order and make the same assumption. 'You know I'm returning to school this semester to start my Masters,' his azure gaze speared the actress. 'Honey and I have discussed it, which means my girlfriend told Di. By association you must also know.'

'You won't help me then?' Missy looked disappointed.

'I didn't say that either,' Mart hedged, considering his options carefully. 'I've just completed a four year degree in two and a half by taking full semesters over the summer.' He didn't mention his almost full time job writing freelance under his assumed name. It gave him the financial freedom to afford his education, board and living expenses. While he'd never be in the economic class of Matthew Wheeler, he now held his head well and truly above water. 'I'm taking on Masters by coursework and intend to finish it by the time Honey graduates school.'

'Would,' Missy teased, 'there be a reason for this timing?'

'Not that I'm willing to discuss at this point in time,' Mart mock growled back.

Taking a sharp breathe in to stop the laughter bubbling up, Missy understood the unspoken agreement between the young lovers. 'So,' Melissa tried not to sound disappointed, 'it's a matter of time?'

'I didn't say that either,' Mart's face broke out into a huge smile. 'I'd like to re-write it.'

'Why?' Missy asked, confused by the sudden turnaround in his attitude. It took a while to realise Martin Belden had been playing with her.

'I like it. It gets the message across in yet another form. Honey and I have kept the details limited due to the political pressures on her father. We can only rock the boat so much before it affects Mr Wheelers career,' Mart leant in, lowering his voice so his companion needed to move closer, 'I want your play to include more politics and intrigue. I want to tell the real story in a way the audience will appreciate. I want more than them enjoying a quiet night out at the theatre. I need them to experience the emotions everyone involved with Jim and Trixie's abduction has felt over the last three years.'

'You want to make this a hit,' shock covered Missy's face.

'I want you to produce and direct the play about the disappearance of my sister and Honey's brother,' Marts voice grew stronger with each word. 'I want the public to understand the events leading up to their abduction. I want the political fallout to incite people's conscious. What I want more than anything is for this play to be a Broadway hit so no one else ever has to face years not knowing what happened to their family.'

Blinking, Missy nodded, too stunned to form an answer. She'd come to Mart with her script because he'd majored in journalism and literature. At best, Melissa hoped he read the screen play, point out any inconsistencies, and critique it. 'Before,' she managed past a lump in her throat, 'I only suspected you might be Peter Jones, but you actually are.'

The offer drew together snippets, made sense of odd comments and forced a realisation she should have made years ago. Lifting a hand to her mouth, Missy stated in an awed tone, 'I should have realised sooner. I should have seen the similarities in your personality and your socio-political writing. Oh,' she hesitated as she realised the calibre of the journalist willing to help her put together a screen play.

'Honestly,' Mart eyed the young woman.

'The comment about blackmail,' at a loss for words she waved her hand in the air. He got the picture. She'd been cajoling him into helping.

'Apart from my family and the Wheeler's, you're the only person to know,' Mart's tone took on a wary timber. He'd walked into a trap of his own making. He'd be unable to write the play under his own name and gain the same level of general public support.

'Perhaps it's time your alter ego diversified his interests,' Missy commented, easily reading his expression, 'into the arts. A well known name on the program would be enough to get the funding for a short run.'

'I intend much more than that,' Mart promised.

In the following months he delivered. Furiously working over a single weekend, he more than edited the play. Adding the extra material he believed the scrip needed to make it a hit, he took it to someone able to fund the project.

'Are you sure,' Matthew Wheeler sat in his office, green eyes raking over the young man requesting support for a very controversial project in the months leading up to 2012 election, 'you want to take this on, with everything else?'

'Yes,' the determination in his expression all the Senator needed.

A week later, Missy found a theatre off, off Broadway and casting began. A month later the first dress rehearsal commenced. At the same time, Mart encouraged critics he knew by sending them opening night tickets. Coming from Mr Peter Jones with a personalised note to take a look, they all turned up to their front row seats.

'Well,' Matthew Wheeler eyed the young man entering the breakfast room in his New York apartment, 'last night went well.'

'We got in about three this morning,' Honey yawned, watching Mart move towards her. 'The after show party went a little later than I expected so I let you sleep. Your parents and Brian have gone out for the morning. We're meeting them for lunch at one.'

'I think,' Matthew teased, placing his coffee cup on the table, 'Mart's more interested in the reviews.'

Martin Belden's eyes locked with his mentors. Noticing a pile of local papers on the table, the three people enjoying the morning sun already scanned the criticisms. 'Just tell me,' he hesitated before slipping into his place.

Opening the New York Times on the table beside his empty plate, Matthew began to read –

Abducted.

I didn't feel this quirky little play rated a mention or a review, not even with free front row tickets. It seemed to be yet another offering about the disappearance of a young woman from her home. I almost decided not to go, until I noticed the screen play had been written by Paul Jones. Now I'm not a fan of this particular journalist's socio-political style but it picked my interest enough to see how he took such a hum drum concept and made a three act play from it.

My attention wondered before the curtain rose. Mr Matthew Wheeler, his wife, daughter and the yet to be named son-in-law, sat three seats away, drawing obvious conclusions about the intent of the play. I wished I'd stayed at home for that re-run of, well anything. Mentally preparing a scathing review, my notice caught by a most usual opening. Two men, dressed in black pranced down the aisles with machine guns, shouting for the audience to take cover. The material obscuring the stage disappeared to display a villa in South America. In the first scene half the cast were killed. The opening gritty, political and unexpected, needless to say, it captured my attention. How could this possibly tie in with the abduction of Trixie Belden and James Frayne?

It became obvious as the first act ensued. A touching scene in a young innocent girl's bedroom as the mother and best friend give us an emotionally packed glimpse into the life of the relatives left behind to cope with the tragedy. The next two acts politically charged, making us feel for the perpetrator as we see the plight behind his actions. He too is being manipulated.

Not a stone left unturned, yet the young woman at the centre of this amazing and quirky play is only seen in a photo sitting by her bed, the young man also in the frame. It is a poignant reminder that this maybe all the family will ever have of their loved ones. Which begs the question, who really wrote this play? It had to be someone with an intimate knowledge of both the Wheeler and Belden families' plight, someone able to tell the story in a politically savvy way. An individual with the experience and knowledge of the events the public is as yet unaware of. Even the director/producer can be linked back to the initial incident. She is the girlfriend of Diana Lynch, friend of Trixie Belden and Honey Wheeler. It's not hard to track the funding for this production either. Which leaves only one principle player, Martin Belden, brother to Trixie and best friend of James. Could this young Columbia graduate in Journalism actually be the award winning writer, Mr Peter Jones? Personally I see the similarities.

Did I like it, immensely. Even though prepared to hate it, I have to give this play by Mr Peter Jones four and a half stars. I'll be booking a ticket to ensure I didn't miss anything the first time around.

'Well,' Mart frowned, 'I guess my alter ego's been outed.'

'Is that all you have to say,' Mrs Wheeler grinned, 'with a review like that.'

'I knew it'd be a hit,' Mart looked up. 'I sent Graham the tickets personally. I'd just hoped I could keep my identity secret until I finished my masters.'

'It could make life at college interesting,' Matthew commented, rising to answer the telephone. When he returned to the table, the agitation in his body language affected the entire group.

'What is it, Daddy,' Honey asked.

'You may have to write a second instalment,' Senator Wheeler's hoarse voice managed, 'because they've just been found.'

'Trixie,' Mart's face turned white as a sheet.

'Jim,' Honey screamed, flying into her boyfriend's arms and sobbing with joy.

Grace stood, maintained her poise and approached her husband. Tears clouding the corners of her eyes, she asked, 'where?'

Neck muscles tight, the expression on his face fighting for control, Matthew shook his head, unable to answer. She understood, the news hadn't all been good. The shock of what he'd learnt taking its toll. Immediately going into damage control, she opened her mobile phone to call the Belden's back to the apartment.

Sobering, Honey suddenly realised her father hadn't said alive. Looking into Mart's azure eyes, his fear palatable, she swallowed. 'Are,' she managed, 'they alive?'

OK after you waiting so patiently – I just had to leave this on a major cliff hanger. I'm on chapters two and three now. I promise the wait won't be long.