“Wow, that was fast. Did they find anything? Any traces of ink?”
“Actually, no.”
I frowned but then realized it didn’t matter. I had seen my dad on TV. I knew he was alive. The note was irrelevant. I started to say as much to Fritz when he cut me off.
“No ink, but a helluva lot of info anyway.”
“What do you mean?” If there was no trace of ink, what was left to find?
“They’ve seen this stuff before.”
“This stuff? As in, the paper?” He nodded. “Okay, and…?”
“It’s made from a highly specialized compound, created specifically for the FBI and CIA just a couple of years ago. It’s meant to start dissolving once it touches the oil on human hands. Any contact with water only increases the dissolution rate. That’s why it turned to goo so quickly.”
“You think the guy that gave the note to Father is an agent of some kind? Otherwise, how would he get ahold of that kind of paper?”
“Hell, I don’t know,” Fritz grumbled, running his hand over his face. “But I think your suspicion in right.” He exhaled loudly, puffing his cherry red cheeks out wide.
“Kid, your dad was into some dangerous shit.” He put his arm around my shoulders. “You need to brace yourself for this.”
“Really, Fritz. After all of this? You think anything’s going to surprise me now?”
“Your dad was in deep, Emily.”
“You mean, deeply in debt to someone? I thought we got the finances all figured out already. What aren’t you telling me?”
“No.” Fritz stopped to look at me, concern in his eyes. “Possibly deeply involved in a drug cartel out of Honduras.”
My jaw dropped, and I let out a laugh. For the first time, I was beginning to doubt Fritz’s investigative abilities. My dad was Mr. Straight and Narrow. He’d never done anything illegal in his life—well, that I knew of anyway.
“My dad would never have had anything to do with drugs, Fritz.” Geez! First Darcy, now Fritz. I shook my head. “Bad real estate deals, maybe, but not drugs.” I tried to continue walking, but Fritz stopped me.
“Emily, this is real. George Potens was known as El Diablo Blanco, The White Devil. The FBI had been tracking his travel patterns for the past several years before his disappearance. He had routinely flown to Honduras, which is one of the biggest drug exporters to the US.”
I didn’t even know my dad had a passport. He had never traveled outside of the US to my knowledge.
“Well, just because a person travels to Honduras doesn’t mean he’s a drug dealer.” I folded my arms across my chest defiantly. This was insane. “Maybe he was trying to buy land to develop a resort down there. It’s a pretty country, isn’t it?” I actually know nothing about Honduras. Not a single thing. The geography of other countries isn’t my strong suit.
“He’d also been making calls to the head of the Morales Mexican drug cartel. One of the biggest. We’re talking the hard stuff, Emily. Cocaine.”
Now that wasn’t so easy to explain away. What reason could I possibly come up with to explain why my dad was communicating with a drug lord?
“How do you know this?” I stuttered, still unwilling to believe it. “You said his FBI file was mostly redacted.” I refused to believe my dad had anything to do with a drug cartel. That was insanity. There had to be a better explanation for all of this.
“I was able to get some of the redacted info in his file…well,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “unredacted.”
Michael and Darcy had caught up to us, and I turned around to look at them, my mouth agape. My dad had been communicating with the leader of a drug cartel? He’d been routinely flying to Honduras? How had I not known any of this? Who was he, really? My breathing became shallow and my face flushed. I wanted to crawl into a hole and fall into a deep, deep sleep, only to wake up later and find this had all just been a bad dream. This couldn’t possibly be real, could it?
“Woooowww,” Darcy said, returning to reporter mode and giving me a little smirk. My good feelings toward her all but evaporated. “I hate to say ‘I told you so.’” I felt myself immediately bristle at her remark. Michael reached out to take my hand. Perhaps he knew I was tempted to reach up and smack her across the face as she continued. “This story just got a helluva lot more interesting.”
●CHAPTER 14●
I ENTERED THE RESTAURANT IN A DAZE. A fire crackled in the center of the room, the two-story chimney almost a work of art. Jazz music lightly played through invisible speakers. Hushed conversations and the clinking of silverware were the only other sounds in this peaceful environment. With my head in a fog, my senses seemed to take over. I smelled roast beef, potatoes and gravy, and apple pie. But my stomach was in knots, and, despite the wonderful smells, I no longer had an appetite.
Darcy turned to Fritz and quickly whipped out her notebook to quiz him about what he’d just told us. Apparently, this was too much for her “photographic memory for words.”
“Hold on now,” Fritz said to Darcy, looking back and forth between the two of us. “Am I supposed to be talking to you? I gotta clear this with the boss first. Emily, you okay with this chick tagging along now?”
Darcy turned red at his comment, and I could see her holding back her anger. Right now, I wasn’t her biggest fan, but I was already aggravated and knew I had to say something. I had made a deal with her, after all. And because of her breaking news story, I knew without a doubt that my dad was alive.
“Yes, she’s fine,” I said, regaining my composure. “And don’t call her a ‘chick.’”
“Oops. My apologies. I know everyone’s getting touchy about things like that nowadays.”
Darcy gave me a frustrated look and held up her hands as if to say, See what I mean?
“Fritz, you know you’re being unfair—”
“I know, I know. Sorry.” He held up his hands in the classic surrender pose. “This old codger is stuck back in time. Zoey says I need ‘sensitivity training,’ or some other BS like that.”
“That would be a good start,” I snapped. “Lesson one: Take the word ‘chick’ out of your vocabulary unless you’re referring to poultry.” He nodded, and to his credit, did look a little chagrined.
Michael asked for a private table near the back, away from most of the other patrons. The hostess sat us in a booth. The benches had cushioned seats and high backs, giving us a sense of privacy. I slid in one side and Darcy immediately followed. That left Michael and Fritz to squeeze in side by side on the other side, their large bodies barely fitting together on the narrow bench seat.
“Let’s rearrange,” Michael suggested. Fritz got out and Darcy immediately changed places with him, sitting herself comfortably next to Michael. “Not really what I had in mind,” he muttered, tilting his head and looking at me. I just shook my head and shrugged it off. She could sit by the “hot elf” during lunch.
Fritz settled in and stretched out his leg into the aisle, moaning. “My sciatica,” he said by way of explanation. “Can’t hardly stand to sit anymore.” He moved around a bit more, adjusting himself until he was comfortable, the bench squeaking and groaning under his weight.
“Okay,” he finally said, slapping his hands on the table. “Let’s get down to business and watch this video before we discuss this more.”
I took the USB from Darcy out of my pocket, and Fritz pulled out his laptop. Getting out his glasses and placing them just below the bridge of his nose, he watched the news clip from the night before with determined interest. He played it several more times, pausing often on different frames to get a better look at my dad. Michael watched it closely as well, his first glimpse of my dad since I’d gotten proof he was alive.
“Okay. Well, that doesn’t give me much to go on.” Fritz took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I got a decent look at his face though, so that helps.” He grilled Darcy about the time the video was shot, how many people were in the area, the owner of the building, and the ext
ent of the damage. As soon as he found out the building was a hotbed for drug activity, he immediately became more animated.
“Well, hot damn. No wonder you got so excited earlier,” he said to Darcy, pounding his fist lightly on the table. “This is going to be some fun shit!”
I glared at him. “Trying to find my dad, who you’re saying is or was involved in some kind of drug distribution ring, is not going to be ‘fun shit!’ This isn’t fun at all!” He chuckled lightly and patted my arm.
“I know, I know, Emily. I get it, I really do. But I do have some experience with dealers, and I’m certain I’ll be able to track some down who know of your dad if he’s working around here.”
“Do you have a drug dealer database or something?” I asked. It wouldn’t surprise me, and I silently wondered if my dad would be in it under some assumed name. “Or just some local contacts? How are you going to find a dealer around here?”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure Caty can help me out.” He looked at Michael and they both grinned.
“Caty at the front desk? I don’t think drugs are part of room service.” I looked at them doubtfully. Fritz just grinned.
“When we walked by her earlier, Emily, the smell of hooch was so powerful, I started to get the munchies.” Michael nodded in agreement.
“Okay, but that’s legal here,” I reminded him.
“Yes, it is. And I want to thank you for bringing me to this great state, by the way.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “I’ll be able to leave a very happy man.” I rolled my eyes. For some reason, his comment didn’t surprise me one bit.
Fritz continued. “This afternoon, I’ll go pay a visit to Caty and see where I can find the nearest pot shop and then ask where I can get something a little more fun.” He looked around the restaurant, taking in the high-end finishes. “People that come here have money to throw around. I bet she’s helped her share of guests find their very own ‘Rocky Mountain high.’” Fritz slapped his knee at his own joke, then grimaced in pain. “Damn leg! The whole thing hurts!”
Our waiter arrived and we paused our conversation to place our order. I ordered a small bowl of tomato bisque soup and a side salad. I could probably choke that down, though my stomach was protesting. What was my dad thinking? Consorting with drug lords? Taking secret trips to Honduras? How could he have done that for who knows how long and come home to my mom after every trip? How could he have led such a double life? I looked down to see myself clenching my water glass, threatening to break the fine crystal. Silently, I removed my hands to my lap.
As we waited for our food to arrive, I noticed our two nail techs walk in, apparently picking up a to-go order at the bar. And there they stood, speaking perfect English and flirting with the cute bartender. I knew they could understand us!
Mary was telling quite a funny story, apparently. The bartender was doubled over, clutching his belly with laughter. I tried to shut out all other conversation around me and utilize my fabulous lip-reading skills to make out her words.
“Omigod, like, the bitchy one—the reporter lady—was trying to ‘prove’ that we couldn’t speak English. Because, you know, since we’re Asian and working in a salon, we must be fresh off the boat. She told this crazy story to see if we’d react. We both just stared at her, and I wanted to say, ‘I’m working on my flippin’ master’s degree in psychology at CSU, and you are a certifiable moron!’”
Her friend smacked her on the shoulder as they all laughed.
“Oh, but wait. The other one apparently is looking for her dad who’s been missing for a few years and is wanted by the FBI! And the reporter thinks he’s involved in the explosion from yesterday. Seriously! Man, what a pair.”
My stomach dropped and I put my head in my hands. They could speak perfect English, and they heard our whole conversation. I glanced up at Darcy, but she was too caught up talking to Fritz and Michael to even notice. My face burned just thinking about how much had I revealed in the salon. Ugh. This was a nightmare.
Eventually our food came, and I nervously picked at my salad while Darcy continued to grill Fritz on the finer points of being a private investigator. Fritz was more than happy to talk, and when we were all finished, the two of them left the restaurant practically skipping, heads together, as if they were plotting their next move.
Michael pulled me aside as we left, wrapping me in a big hug and creating some distance between us and Darcy and Fritz. Just being in his arms helped me relax. I knew, as long as he was with me, that somehow, everything would be all right. I stared out at the landscape, amazed at how beautiful everything remained while my life turned to chaos. Birds were singing. Leaves were rustling in the wind. The sun’s rays warmed my skin. And my dad had possibly worked in the drug trade. Some of the money in my trust fund—the money used for our wedding—could have come from some poor, addicted soul in a back alley. I no longer wanted anything to do with it.
“Hey babe,” Michael whispered in my ear, “you know I love you, right?” I went completely still and held my breath. Nothing good ever comes after something phrased like that. “I hate to add to your crazy day, but I’ve, uh, got some more bad news.” I pulled back to look at him. His brow was furrowed and he grimaced as he began to say, “Frit—”
“I tell ya what,” Fritz said, turning around and heading back toward us. “Let’s all head on back to the room or wherever and talk this out. I need to visit a man about a horse, and then we can sketch out a plan of action.” TMI, I thought. I wondered how he’d gotten a room at the resort lodge without prior reservations. I knew all the cabins were full and thought the lodge was as well. I’d figured we’d have to find him a place in town.
“Visit a man about a horse?” Darcy mumbled, preoccupied with checking her phone for messages. “Why do you want a horse? You going on a trail ride?”
Fritz looked at her quizzically. “I, uh, need to drop off some kids at the pool?” Darcy still looked confused as she continued to fuss with her phone.
“Huh? There’s a pool here too?” she asked. “Awesome!”
Michael looked at me and rubbed his hands over his face, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. “He needs to go to the bathroom, Darcy. That’s what he’s saying.” He gave me an apologetic look. Fritz’s bathroom antics were his own business, and this whole conversation was beyond comfortable. “Since that’s all cleared up,” Michael continued, “why don’t we all head back to the cabin.”
Why did he say that? I didn’t want to invite Fritz to do his business in our cabin. Wouldn’t he prefer to go in his own room? I decided I’d better step up and avoid the bathroom disaster.
“Why don’t we just take a little break and you can head to your room for a bit, Fritz. Then you can unpack and use your own bathroom and check back in with us when you’re done. Take as long as you need.” I attempted to herd the group along on our separate ways, my patience waning.
“Ooh, I get my own room? I thought I had the couch?” Fritz said, looking in Michael’s direction.
What was he talking about?
“Just come find us when you’re done, Fritz,” I said, struggling to hide my exasperation. “Do you know where our cabin is?”
“Why, yes.” Fritz grinned and continued to follow me. “I certainly do know where our cabin is. Mi casa es su casa, Emily.” He chuckled and patted me on the shoulder. “I’m staying with you.”
●CHAPTER 15●
STAYING WITH FRITZ IS LIKE having an overnight with your favorite uncle. He’s lots of fun to be around, but at bedtime, you really wish you’d brought along your earplugs. And your eye mask. And some powerful air freshener.
Turns out a national banker’s conference was being held in Elkston, and all hotels, motels, campgrounds, and rooms for rent were booked within a fifty-mile radius. I spent the whole afternoon making calls, even after Michael assured me he’d already done the same thing that morning. It was to no avail, but at least it kept me occupied for a bit.
Eve
ntually, Michael and I lit a fire and sat on the sofa, which was soon to become Fritz’s bed. I sighed in frustration. The room was nice and cozy, sun streaming in behind us with the fire crackling at our toes. Darcy and Fritz worked in the kitchen area just behind us, both situated at the table, heads together, almost speaking their own language. It turned out Darcy had quite a knack for investigative reporting and had quite a few contacts of her own. The two had their laptops, phones, and notes spread out, fingers flying from one device to the other, stopping occasionally to make a phone call. So much for our romantic honeymoon sanctuary.
“I had high hopes for this sofa,” Michael whispered, giving me a sad face. “It’s comfortable, pretty deep, right in front of the fire. I guess we’ll just have to put this spot on hold for a few days.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked as I leaned against him, curling my legs up underneath me. My brain was buzzing trying to think of other places I could call to check on room availability for Fritz.
“You know I wanted to christen every room of this cabin on our honeymoon.” He kissed me on the cheek.
“Oh, right. That.” I laughed. Why do men have such one-track minds? “I’m happy to see you’re so focused on finding my dad. You’re going to have to wait a few days for any of that, or at least until we find Fritz a different place to stay.”
“Wait, what? A few days?” Michael gulped and shifted to look at me. He looked like he’d lost his best friend. “Are you serious? We’re on our honeymoon!”
“And I’m not doing the dirty deed with Fritz one room away and a sliding barn door the only thing separating us.”
“What about the SUV?”
“Are you kidding me right now?”
“Hey, maybe I’m just trying to lighten the mood,” he teased as he stroked my face. “I know this isn’t what we planned.” He sat and gazed at the fire, a sad look of defeat in his eyes.
“Oh, I forgot,” he said with a start. Turning to look at his watch, he stood up, pulling me with him. “I had made reservations for the two of us to get a couples massage this afternoon. If we hurry up, we can still get in a short hike around the property beforehand.”
The Naked Truth Page 8
