The snake coiled around his leg. He started striking at it with the butt of his M16. He looked up. Standing above him was the girl. The young woman. Drew. Her soft pretty face was hidden behind war paint. She wore a helmet. She yelled in Vietnamese and stabbed him in the stomach with a bayonet.
Hull woke covered with sweat. His leg was on fire. He decided it was time to drive to Bristol. His attempt at sleep had made him more tired. Fucking Vietnam.
CHAPTER FIFTY
A gentleman is simply a patient wolf.
~ Lana Turner
Just be yourself. I know what you’re thinking anyway.
~ Drew Stirling
Drew Stirling woke up disconcerted. She was in a strange bed and wearing someone else’s clothes. She couldn’t remember how she’d ended up there. She sat up. Everything flooded back into her mind. An avalanche of bad news. Marc. The cabin. Being stalked. Meeting Ben. Her circumstances were overwhelming. She stood up and walked across the bedroom.
Ben had been so sweet last night. He’d given her a tender, but familiar, kiss on the forehead like a father tucking in a child. He’d told her not to worry and to wake him if she needed anything. Ben had given her safety.
She opened the door and realized it was already late morning. The brightness of the sun was a shock.
“Good morning, Drew,” Ben shouted from the other room. She couldn’t see him. He must have heard her opening the door. “There’s coffee.”
She went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. She saw puffy eyes and scratches across her face. She felt bruising everywhere. She had aches and pains, but no serious injuries. She felt gratitude and a sense of empowerment. She had escaped. She was safe for the moment.
“Thank you,” she said to Ben. She sat down and sipped her coffee.
“Oh, no bother. Actually, my mother made it.”
“No, I meant, thank you for… For helping me. You didn’t have to pick up a stranger on the side of the road.”
“I’m glad I did. But, you’re welcome.”
She could tell he was being genuine. He’d been so considerate last night. He made sure she felt at home. He kept reassuring her she could lock the door and nobody would bother her. She could sleep in as long as she needed to. He was the perfect gentleman. Actually, too perfect.
“My mom and I had breakfast before she left for work. She made extra. You hungry?”
“Actually…” Drew ate breakfast while Ben sipped his coffee. They made small talk, and he avoided bringing up any of her troubles. “Thanks for breakfast. Now, I have to think about what to do next.”
He told her he’d drive her home or to the police department, whichever she thought best. He asked if she reconsidered talking to her father, and told her how sorry he was all this had happened. He was willing to help her how ever he could. “I can always leave for California tomorrow.”
She didn’t want that. She thought of Marc again and realized the last thing she wanted was another friend helping her. It was her mess. And it was really messy. “No. You leave like you planned. Let’s connect on Facebook. I’ll be sure to write down your cell number.”
“I almost forgot. You have a voicemail on my cell.” He handed her his phone. “It’s from your father. He called a few hours ago, but I didn’t want to wake you up.”
Incoming voicemail:
“Yes, hello. This is Peter Stirling. My daughter, Drew Stirling, called me from this number last night. It’s important that we talk as soon as possible. Could you please ask her to return my call?”
Drew handed the phone back to Ben. “I need to get a new phone. I don’t even have my ID. No cash. No credit cards. I guess I should go back to the cabin and check to see if my stuff is still there.”
“Would you like me to take you?”
“No, I couldn’t ask that. Besides, it’s too dangerous. I’ll have to go to the police. I need to find a way to contact Marc’s father. This is too much. How did people survive before smartphones?”
“You want to call your father back?” He held his phone out to her.
“No. Not yet.” Drew closed her eyes and thought about her options. She could have Ben take her back to her place, but that would involve Julie. For all she knew, that crazy stalker was sitting outside her condo right now waiting for her to show up so he could silence her forever. She needed a strategy. “Can I borrow your computer? I need to do some research.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
When all else fails, complicate matters.
~ Aaron Allston
Part of my job is to minimize damage. Lots of little mistakes. No big ones.
~ Brandon Hull
Brandon Hull drove into Bristol in the early morning. He went to the emergency room and explained he’d had a construction accident. He filled out all the paperwork with a fake name and presented fake identification. The bone was bruised with a possible hairline fracture that didn’t show up on an x-ray. The doctor told him he needed an MRI. A nurse bandaged him up and provided crutches. Several hours were wasted, but he was out before ten.
There wasn’t much he could do before he talked to Boyd again. He could attempt to track down the girl. He did have a cell number, but the plan was to give Boyd a chance to reason with her first. He considered calling the cell number Drew had used to call her father, but that was too rash at this point. He tried reverse directories and searched online, but that wasn’t helpful. He could try calling the carrier, but that was rarely useful. They didn’t give out personal information, and the number could belong to a burner cell in any case.
Hull didn’t have time on his side. If Boyd wasn’t successful, he’d only have half a day to make Drew disappear. Even that might be too risky. It depended. It was going to be a long day, no matter what happened. If the story broke in the media, he might have to disappear himself. Such was the way in this business: Once a shot was fired, plans went to shit.
He drove by Drew’s apartment. She wasn’t a stupid girl, so he doubted she was there. He realized he’d underestimated her. That was obvious. It wouldn’t happen again.
He parked near her apartment out of direct sight. He winced as he lifted himself off the driver’s seat and limped to the trunk. His leg bothered him more than he thought it would, but there was no time to worry about the pain. He opened one of his bags and put on a windbreaker. It had the power company’s logo on the front and back. He placed a cap on his head with a fake ponytail hanging out the back which gave him long gray hair. The baseball cap had the same logo as his windbreaker, “Bristol Gas & Electric.” He put on dark, thick-framed glasses that were tinted and had large lenses. He held up a small mirror and looked at the fake goatee on his chin. It’ll do.
Hull walked across the street with a clipboard. He approached Drew’s apartment and glanced around. Seeing nothing of interest, he knocked on the door.
Julie Brown answered. Hull had questioned her before, but he was now unrecognizable. He didn’t sense that she was suspicious, and he held out the name badge that was clipped to his windbreaker stating he was George Wilson, Supervisor, BG&E. He told her that several neighbors had complained about a gas leak. “Have you smelled gas?” She told him she had not. He pulled a small electronic device out of his pocket. He waved it at her and walked into the apartment. She didn’t stop him. “I’ll just be a second, miss. I need to be sure the range isn’t going to, you know, leak gas and cause an explosion. We don’t want anyone getting hurt. I’ll only be a minute.” Julie was flustered, and as Hull expected, she didn’t object to him entering the kitchen. He pretended to test for gas.
“Anything?”
“Nope. Nothing wrong here. No problems. I just need to get your signature, miss.” Hull pulled a piece of paper off the clipboard and pretended to read it.
“You are Drew Stirling, correct?”
“Oh, no. I’m her roommate. She’s not home at the moment.”
Hull nodded. He told her it was okay, she could sign the paper
herself. He passed her a pen and she scribbled her signature on the phony document.
“Sorry to bother you, miss.” Hull left. He wasn’t disappointed. He hadn’t expected Drew to be there, but he needed to check.
He still had the cell number that Drew had used last night to call her father, but that was probably a one shot deal. He’d wait. He needed more information from Boyd. Being patient was also an action when in a battle. Sometimes the best action.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
People believe what they are told.
~ Jacqueline Carey
I love the simplicity and grandeur of morning services. I wish Peter and Drew shared my enthusiasm. I can’t imagine living life without my faith.
~ Monica Stirling
Lance Boyd drove himself to the Stirling residence. It was better for everyone to not have an official record of the visit. He trusted his staff, but it was better not having anyone witness or remember any conversations about Drew Stirling. Her name could be in every newspaper and on every newscast in a matter of days. He needed to stop her from talking about the affair. He needed to present a plan of action to Peter and Monica Stirling. He wanted to build a united front against the lies that Drew was telling. His career depended upon it.
“Congressman, good morning,” Monica Stirling said when she opened the front door. “It’s a pleasure to have you in our home.”
He entered the foyer and shook her hand. “It’s nice to see you, Monica. Although I wish under more pleasant circumstances.”
She smiled and told him to follow her.
“Peter will be right down. May I pour you a cup of coffee?” She was the perfect hostess. She displayed no distress and no emotion.
He accepted coffee and sat. They waited in silence for Peter Stirling.
“Lance,” Peter said. “No, don’t get up, please.”
The Congressman stood. They shook hands and then sat down together.
Monica Stirling excused herself. Boyd, however, told her it was important that he talk to them both. “Please, stay.” He spoke sternly, but with enough emphasis on the word please that it didn’t come out like a command.
She looked to her husband.
“Yes, dear. Please sit. Drew is both of ours, after all.” He smiled at her while she sat.
Boyd watched them in silence.
“So, first, let me tell you how sorry I am about all this. If I’d known she was, not, well… If I’d known she was going through some trouble, I’d never have asked her to help with my public relations project. I should have come to you first, Peter.”
“Well, she is an adult,” Peter said.
Boyd weaved a story about how he noticed she seemed distracted when they’d met to discuss the projects he needed help on. She seemed distracted by family problems, he explained to them. “Not that she said anything specific, of course. She was discreet, but she implied she was having trouble with both of you. I didn’t want to pry.”
The Stirlings both looked concerned and embarrassed.
“I felt she was having some emotional problems. I wanted to help. I’m sorry. I should have come to you,” he said looking at Peter. Boyd was spinning a complete fabrication. He didn’t like this kind of lie. It was too risky to completely fabricate stories. Lies worked best when they were mostly true. But Boyd knew they were accepting the story. They nodded and confirmed that there was tension between them all. He knew that people were willing to accept lies when the lie conformed to what they wanted to be true or what they thought was true. Peter and Monica, he knew with confidence, would never want to believe that their daughter was a lusty little kitten.
Boyd thought of the last time he’d been with Drew. Her perfect skin, her perky breasts, the way she… He had to stop thinking about her. He was getting distracted by his own memories.
“I’ll call her, honey,” Monica said to her husband. “If you think it will help. I’ll take her shopping. Talk to her woman-to-woman.”
“I concur, Peter, if you don’t see any downside to a mother-to-daughter talk? Talk to her about how negatively this will reflect on all of us, especially my Linda. If Drew starts talking in public about an affair, it will really hurt a lot of people. You can’t take that kind of stuff back. Some mud always sticks. You both understand politics. This could snowball into a lot of bigger problems. She’ll hurt a lot of people.”
Peter nodded his head.
Monica wiped her eyes.
“I want you both to know,” Boyd said. “I truly appreciate your friendship and support through all the years. We’ll get through this. I really need to know that you both trust me when I tell you I would never betray our friendship. Never. I didn’t have any kind of inappropriate relationship with your daughter. I didn’t make any advances. I didn’t suggest anything other than a business arrangement. I do regret breaking protocol. Meeting with her alone was a mistake. I overstepped the bounds of my friendship with you both. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, please,” Monica said. “This isn’t like it was thirty years ago. If women want to be respected, they can’t go around expecting all these special exceptions and arrangements. They really should behave like businessmen if they are going to be in business. I’m so sorry for my daughter’s behavior. I’ll talk to her. I’m sure I can talk some sense into her.”
“Yes,” Peter added, “you’ve done nothing wrong, Lance. Don’t apologize. We’ll fix this.”
Boyd felt satisfied. He had them on board, so it was time to leave. He told them he was in town for another day or maybe two. He’d wait for their call. He told them he’d be happy to come back out to the house.
“You know, maybe the best thing is for you guys to talk to Drew. Then have me back out to the house. The four of us can sit down. I’ll hear her out. Maybe I gave her a mixed signal. Maybe I said something she misinterpreted. The four of us can get to the bottom of this. We can all work it out. I know Drew is a good person. She has the greatest parents. Thank you both for having me out.”
They walked Boyd to the door. Monica gave him a hug. Peter shook his hand and told him he’d be in touch. They hadn’t mentioned the crazy story Drew had told about someone trying to kill her in the woods.
That was just too crazy. Nobody was going to buy that. On the other hand, the last thing I need in the press is someone asking questions about a missing girl. I need to rein in Hull.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Look at the Chandra Levy case. It's become a Star Chamber. The major networks, the cable networks, they're being prosecutors. They're judges and jurors and executioners. Well, c'mon, that's ridiculous. But they're doing it.
~ Ray Bradbury
Sure, conspiracy theories aren’t real stories, that’s true. But men like Gary Webb, do you think he committed suicide by shooting himself twice in the head? Maybe. But it doesn’t matter. The government killed him, even if he was the one that pulled the trigger. Twice.
~ Dallas Brown
Drew Stirling felt a sense of self-control and power over her own fate. She wasn’t going to allow Lance Boyd to lie about her. She wasn’t going to forget that someone that said he was connected to the Congressman had killed Marc and tried to kill her.
She remembered the last time she’d been with Boyd. He had surprised her in bed. He was fit, good looking, and an experienced lover. She had hoped to get together again before she found out he was a lying, conniving, evil bastard.
She had Ben’s computer in front of her, and she Googled the Congressman. She looked for any recent news. She tried his name plus her name together. Nothing came up. She added details about the lab, but nothing new was listed. She searched for Marc Chase. She got hits for his website and some photo industry news, but nothing showed up in a Google search about him being missing. She knew she was going to have to speak to Marc’s father, but that would have to wait until it was safer.
Drew looked online for an editor that worked at the Washington Post. She couldn’t remember the name
Marc had told her. When she read Cindy K. Wells’ name, it sounded familiar. She borrowed Ben’s phone again and called the Post. She asked for Cindy Wells, gave her name, and waited on hold. A professional, no-nonsense voice picked up the phone.
“This is Cindy Wells. Am I speaking with Drew Stirling?”
“Yes.”
Drew was feeling victorious. The story was going to get out. She wasn’t going to be killed in the woods. She was going to prove her case. The Congressman would be voted out. Marc’s family would sue. The public would find out about the lab, and the illegal research would be stopped. She would get that bastard.
Drew started talking. The words flowed out of her so fast she had to stop several times to catch her breath. Each time she paused, Wells would say, “Go on, dear. Continue.” Drew told her story. She explained the affair and how she came to possess the thumb drive. She told her about the day Marc didn’t come back. She went through the events that evening from the initial attack to her meeting Ben. “I was ready to give up. I thought I was dead for sure. Then Ben nearly ran me down in the street. As it turns out, he’s a really great guy. I’m at his place now. I’m not sure it’s safe for me to go out yet.”
“So, dear, are you saying the man that called me, Marc Chase, has been murdered?”
“I know he’s missing. He promised to come back before dark, and then he didn’t show up. While I waited for Marc, this crazy madman shows up, the one that attacked me. I think he must have killed Marc.”
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