Undressed To The Nines: A Thriller Novel (Drew Stirling Book 1)

by Jayden Hunter

  Drew played the voicemail:

  “Drew, it’s Dad. I guess you met with Congressman Boyd yesterday. He said you were considering working with him on some promotional material. He thinks maybe he dropped a thumb drive and you might have got it mixed up in your portfolio or something. I wanted to help him out and Fedex it up to Washington first thing in the morning, so could you please call me and let me know where I could meet you tonight and pick it up? Call me right away.”

  Boyd had called four times but had never left a voice message. That made sense because he could always deny that the phone number linked to a text message was his, but he couldn’t say that about his own voice. Her father had called a second time about an hour after he’d left the voicemail, but he hadn’t left a second message.

  Julie asked, “Are you okay? You look pale.”

  “No. I feel sick.”

  “What are you thinking?” Marc asked her.

  “When something is being scheduled, a family event, a holiday get-together, or even just a simple dinner, my mom calls me,” Drew said. “I’m really scared. My dad hasn’t called me in years.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  How ridiculous and how strange to be surprised at anything which happens in life.

  ~ Marcus Aurelius

  People joke about the zombie apocalypse. But that’s not why I have a couple month’s worth of supplies stored up. Hell. A truckers union strike during a bad snow season coupled with a power plant going down, you’d have looting in a week.

  ~ Frank Chase

  Drew Stirling looked at Julie.

  “Are you going to be okay?” her friend asked her.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Drew said. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe. Yes, I’m worried.”

  “Should I cancel my plans?”

  “No, no, it’s not that big of a deal. Go,” Drew told her.

  Julie left the room. Marc and Drew sat there thinking. “You’re biting your lip,” Marc said. He reached out and touched her on the shoulder. “Don’t panic, I’ll help you.”

  When they heard the shower start running, Marc looked at her and asked her what she was thinking.

  “Thank God for Xanax.” She laughed, but didn’t feel better and started having darker thoughts. She told Marc that she knew from her father’s tone of voice that something was not right. He had talked to Boyd, and it was clear that he had been pressured to try and find her right away. She speculated that maybe she’d end up like Brad Novak, the missing reporter. She was worried that even if she called the Congressman and returned the thumb drive now, he wouldn’t believe that she hadn’t viewed the contents.

  “They aren’t going to believe I’d been without my cell all day long,” she said.

  “I can see that,” Marc joked. “What person under fifty goes without checking their phone for more than an hour?”

  “An hour? Try ten minutes.”

  “So what do you want to do?”

  They plotted and planned and talked about all the various courses of action they could take. Drew got out a notepad and handed it to Marc. She asked him to write down all the options. Then they sorted through them, doing a “pros and cons” analysis to see what option looked best.

  “Okay, con number one. You tell the Congressman, and he has you buried in the desert,” Marc teased.

  “That’s not fucking funny,” Drew said.

  “Sorry. But seriously, you don’t really believe that your life is in danger, do you?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It seems crazy, but where’s this reporter at? And why isn’t this story out on the web? Why try to find me through my dad if it’s not a big deal?”

  “Good points.”

  Drew and Marc were brainstorming when he told her he had an idea. He thought if she went out of town for awhile, there wouldn’t be a downside. It would give her time to think.

  When Julie came back into the room, Marc told her not to worry if Drew was gone for a few days, that she might be leaving town.

  “Oh, really?” Julie asked and looked at Drew.

  “Well, I’m not sure yet, but maybe,” she answered. “In any case, don’t worry about me, and please, keep Marc a secret, okay?”

  “Done,” she said. “Good night, guys.” And with that, Julie left, and they continued plotting.

  “So if I go out of town, then what?”

  “We’ll keep you off the grid,” he said. “It’s not like we have to do anything or make any rash decisions. We can take a day or two to think.” Then with an excited look on his face he said, “I’ve got it!”

  “Go on,” she said.

  Marc explained that his dad maintained a rustic log cabin off the main highway to Glenley, a little touristy resort town about an hour and a half out of Bristol. Drew said she knew it, and she’d been there a few years ago. He went on to explain that the cabin was well-stocked and comfortable, but off the grid, as in no phone, no electricity, and no cell phone service. It’s out there he told her, but it’s also very nice country, and the cabin was only about a thirty minute drive from Glenley.

  “So, your dad, he’s a prepper or something?”

  “Well, maybe not that extreme. He does have the place well-stocked.”

  “You mean like weapons, food for a year, fishing gear, hunting gear, heirloom seeds, and night vision goggles?”

  Marc laughed. “Weapons, yes.”

  “Lots of bullets, I hope?”

  “Yeah, lots of bullets. But no night vision goggles, no grenades, no barbed wire, and I don’t think he has a stash of heirloom seeds. There is a drilled well, so plenty of water. A large propane tank and a hot water heater, so hot showers. It has a decent kitchen, a propane range, a potbelly stove, a big fireplace. There’s fishing gear, board games, a library. It’s a fun place to spend the weekend. All you need to bring are warm clothes and food as if you were camping.”

  “What, no stockpile of MREs?” Drew laughed about the whole thing.

  What could it hurt to chill in the woods? Give this a day or two?

  Maybe the editor at the Post will have some advice.

  What can it hurt to camp out with a handsome guy for a few days?

  “Can you afford to take time off and show me around?” Drew asked him.

  “Oh sure, for sure. I was hoping, I mean, yes. I wanted to talk to you about maybe doing some work, or we could just hike and maybe fish. You ever fly fish before?”

  “No, never,” she said.

  Drew agreed to go. They decided that it would be safest to drive up in the daytime since they’d both been drinking. It was getting late, and the drive up was a long and windy one with steep climbs. They agreed that it would be better to not stay at her place. They decided to crash at his studio that night and to leave early the next morning.

  Neither her father nor the Congressman would have any idea about Marc, and his studio address wasn’t listed anywhere. He rarely got any non-electronic mail anyway, and when he did, it went to his P.O. box.

  Drew packed up extra clothes, threw a bunch of stuff into a bag, and asked him if he would like to take her convertible and leave his car in her spot. He thought that was perfect. They stuffed her bag in the trunk and headed across town to his studio.

  “We should get to bed early.”

  “Good idea. Which sofa do you want?”

  “You pick. I’ll dig up some blankets.”

  With the lights out and both of them settled in for the night, Drew asked Marc to tell her more about himself.

  “I’ve grown up here in Bristol. I graduated from Bristol High, nine, no ten years ago.” He went on and talked about his childhood. He’d always been a bit nerdy. He liked photography from a young age and started learning the basics of Photoshop in high school. He told her about going to college in Bristol. He talked about how he dealt with his mom’s passing a few years back and getting his heart broken by his college sweetheart.

  “Tell me about her
. That was Lori, right? You mentioned to me once she wanted to go to Hollywood and become a movie star?”

  “Yes,” he said, “that’s the one. She broke my heart into a lot of pieces. It took a few years to really get interested in a relationship again. Sometimes, I think that she was perfect for me, that we were perfect for each other, like destiny or some bullshit. I’ve come to realize that there is no perfect person for anyone, that we are all just like asteroids randomly flying through space. Then we crash into some planet, and heat, sparks, and explosions are created. Sometimes it’s what comes after that is beautiful. The crash brings out something wonderful. Sometimes it’s just the extinction of the dinosaurs and a lot of buried bones.”

  “That’s insightful. I just fuck married guys,” she sighed.

  “Stop already. Certainly you’ve been in love?”

  “Sure, lot’s of times. Timmy, Bobby, Jim, James, Michael, Sam, David, a couple of Joshes, and a Jacob.”

  “No, I mean real love, like you thought you were going to have a fairy tale wedding, three kids, the dog, the house, the carpool van?”

  “And become my mom? No fucking way. Kids, I don’t know. Not saying I’m opposed, but…”

  Drew explained she’d never really been in love, in love like really head-over-heels over-the-top romantic love. Sure, she’d been very infatuated and pretty serious with a few boyfriends, but never really in love enough to consider getting married. No way. She had too many plans and dreams and things she wanted to accomplish first.

  “I want to go on to do something important with my life. Modeling has been a good tool for me. I learned a lot about life. I made decent money. I’ve enjoyed it for the most part. But I want to study. I’m still drawn to science. I know that sounds weird, but it’s true. I’m thinking I’m going to try to get into a program to study bioengineering or something similar. Maybe I’ll work in cancer research. I’m not sure, but I want it to be something that can make the world a better place. Just showing off my body? That’s not shameful, I don’t regret it. But it’s not enough to satisfy me. I want more. You think you’ll ever get married?”

  “I hope so, someday. I mean, I’d like to have a kid. When I’m older.”

  “You’ll make a good dad.” She meant it too. He was almost the exact opposite of her father.

  Drew started getting sleepy. Not thinking about her current problems, but instead talking about the past, had been a relaxing distraction.

  “Good night, Marc.”

  She liked the sound of his voice as he wished her good dreams. She felt safe as she fell asleep.

  Drew dreamt.

  She was about to have sex with Congressman Boyd.

  She felt afraid. He was using the pillow case, not to gently blindfold her, but to tie around her neck.

  As she was trying to yell his name, he cut off her air. She couldn’t breathe.

  She struggled, and he lay down on top of her. Heavy, sweaty, smelling like stale sex and whiskey.

  She woke up in a panic. It was one of those dreams that was so realistic that she couldn’t remember for a moment where she was. When she realized she was with Marc, she asked him if he was awake, and if she could lie next to him.

  “Yes. Of course.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Angry people are not always wise.

  ~ Jane Austen

  The art of diplomacy is often to tell someone you want to be their best friend, but failing that, you might have to destroy them. It’s kind of like Christianity.

  ~ Congressman Lance Boyd

  Congressman Boyd was concerned. It was approaching nine on Sunday night and nobody seemed to be able to find Drew. She had not responded to his calls or text messages. He’d called Hull several times to see if he had found Drew, but Hull was having trouble finding any public records listing her address. Boyd couldn’t risk asking Peter Stirling for his daughter’s address and then sending Hull over there.

  God only knew what Hull was capable of doing. The potential blowback and risk was already huge. He hoped there would end up being a harmless reason why he hadn’t heard from Drew, but that hope was dying.

  Boyd paced in his Georgetown condo and sipped his scotch. He didn’t want to risk getting too drunk or too tired, but at some point, he was going to have to call it a night. He was going to need some sleep. He’d slept a few hours at the hotel in Bristol and during the plane ride, but it wasn’t enough, and the stress was starting to take its toll.

  Just when I thought the mid-terms were a lock, and the horizon had a view of the Senate. Fuck. Why the hell did that goddamn reporter stick his nose into this thing?

  Can’t people accept that our enemies are not going to just quit attacking us and make peace?

  At ten minutes after nine, Boyd decided to call Peter Stirling again.

  “Peter, sorry to call so late,” the Congressman said. “I’m so grateful for all your support and help. Men like you are rare these days. Again, I’m so grateful to you. And your lovely wife too. How is she?”

  For a few minutes they exchanged pleasantries and uncomfortable small talk, probing-for-answers small talk. Boyd wanted to know if there was any news of Drew without directly asking.

  “I haven’t heard back from Drew, Sir. Sorry,” Peter Stirling said.

  “I understand. Kids these days.”

  Boyd explained that he had made a serious mistake, a breach of protocol. He’d accidentally mixed up a couple of thumb drives. The one he thought he had with him was supposed to be promotional items, files with campaign information he wanted to talk to Drew about. On accident he’d grabbed the wrong drive.

  The thumb drive that Drew may have inadvertently picked up had sensitive national security information on it, classified information that could get them both into all kinds of trouble.

  “So, you see,” the Congressman said, “it’s actually a crime to possess that drive. Of course, we know it’s just an accident. I’ll protect her from any real trouble. But I need to find her immediately and get that drive back. It’s vital. Do you have any idea where she might be? Or why she wouldn’t call you back?”

  “No, no,” Peter said. “I’ve left her a voicemail and tried to call her several times. I can’t imagine what’s going on with her. It’s not like her to ignore phone calls.”

  “I know,” Boyd said. “I do like her. I know she’s responsible. It’s important that I find her, or, I mean, really, just that we get that thumb drive back. If you can find her and get it express shipped up to me, everything would be just fine. Nobody would know any different and that’s the end of it. But, I hope for her sake, she hasn’t opened and read those files. You don’t think she’d do that, do you?”

  “I don’t believe so,” he said sounding more concerned. “She’s a good kid. I don’t think she’d try and cause any trouble, and I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. I’ll call you back the minute I hear from her.”

  Boyd thanked Peter for all his work and support and remembered to add in a “say hello to your lovely wife” as if he was out campaigning instead of conducting an investigation.

  After he ended the phone call, the Congressman swore and kicked the sofa and poured himself another drink. He finished his drink and then called Hull.

  “Find her. Get the drive. Take her computer if you have to,” he said. “Take care of this shit before it burns us all to the ground.”

  “Yes, Sir. On it.”

  “And Hull,” Boyd said, his words a little desperate, “try not to hurt anybody.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  One should not attend even the end of the world without a good breakfast.

  ~ Robert A. Heinlein

  I’ve sometimes considered ordering an omelet. Or the pancakes. But when I speak what comes out is: “Eggs over easy, bacon crisp, hash browns, and sourdough.” Is that a personal flaw? I don’t know. I know I’m only disappointed if they overcook the eggs.

  ~ Marc Chase

&nbs
p; Drew Stirling drove up the mountain to Glenley. She liked driving her Camaro. She felt powerful and in control of her life when driving fast. The road up to Glenley was a sports car driver’s dream. Long deep turns, lovely scenery, and no traffic in the early morning hours.

  When they flew past a small side road and a broken sign that read “Fallen Oaks Trailer Park” Marc said to her, “That was the way up to the cabin, but we should go into town and eat breakfast.”

  The Fallen Oaks Trailer Park was a park of mobile homes and a few RVs. Most of the residents were retired elderly couples collecting social security who had secured long-term leases on the land many years ago.

  Marc’s father had inherited the land their cabin was built on from his father who had paid a thousand dollars for it back in the Depression era. Marc would inherit the property one day, and he explained to Drew how coming up here to the mountains brought back so many good memories. And many hard ones too.

  “This is the only place that serves a decent breakfast,” Marc said. He pointed to the Broken Yolk Coffee Shoppe once they’d driven into Glenley. It was right next to the only resort motel in town which had a lit sign announcing “Vacancy.”

  “Sounds good. I’m starved,” Drew said.

  She loved little get-away resort towns like this one. Under normal circumstances, she would have enjoyed the view of the distant snow-covered mountains, the splendid trees, and the charm of the old buildings.

  She asked Marc what he was going to order while browsing the menu. Marc told her he was getting eggs, bacon, sourdough, and hash browns. “The perfect breakfast is perfect,” he said. “Therefore, I never need to look at a menu.”