“Okay, how tall do you think?”
Drew guessed, and he continued to ask her some questions about that night: the make of car, the model, and the color. Could she describe the weapon? Did she have the sense she’d ever seen him before or heard his voice? He made notes as she answered.
“Why didn’t you make a report two nights ago?” he asked.
“I was scared. When this guy, Ben, when he picked me up, the only thing I could think of was getting out of here. He was heading back to Bristol, and it seemed like that guy had quit following us. I just wasn’t sure what to do. I was scared because I knew if this guy was actually working for a United States Congressman, I might not know who to trust. I was scared, really, that’s the bottom line why I waited. I wanted to talk to my parents. They almost convinced me to drop the whole thing and that was after I convinced them in the first place it had even happened. They weren’t ready to accept everything at first.”
“I’m going to need to talk to Ben. You have a number?”
She recited it, and he wrote it down along with a few more things. He went back and clarified a few points. He tried to get a timeline from her, but she had only a vague idea. She had no idea how long she’d been running through the woods that night. It felt like many hours, although it might have only been two or three.
“I’m going to run up to Frank’s place. You might as well tag along. If you’ve got time? Maybe something else up there will jog your memory about that man. You have time?”
“Of course.”
They rode together down the highway and turned into Fallen Oaks Trailer Park. Drew’s heart skipped. They drove past the bridge and up the road. They turned into the driveway that led to the Chase cabin.
Drew started having a panic attack. “Maybe I should have taken a Xanax.”
“Post traumatic stress. Take a few deep breaths.” He looked over at her and told her that if anything seemed out of the ordinary he’d head back down the hill and call for backup. The chance that anybody was sitting up here two days later waiting for trouble was extremely unlikely. “We’ll be just fine. You can wait in the patrol car. I’ll go up first and check the place out.”
Drew looked up and gasped. There was nothing to check out. The cabin had been burnt down. The stone chimney was the only piece of architecture still standing.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
I have no desire whatever to reform myself. My only desire is to reform people who try to reform me. And I believe that the only way to reform people is to kill 'em.
~ Carl Panzram
I had nothing to do with the alleged attack on Drew Stirling. That’s all I’m going to say about that matter. Next question, please.
~ Congressman Lance Boyd
Congressman Lance Boyd left the Stirling residence and drove towards his downtown office. He had just promised Peter and Monica that he’d do everything he could to get to the bottom of this story about Drew being assaulted. He asked them before he left to please try everything they could think of to make things right with their daughter. He had subtly reminded Peter of the joint interest they had in Genaplat Technology Labs. Because of Boyd’s tips and little hints, nothing too blatant, Peter Stirling had invested a considerable amount into the lab. Boyd had hinted that costly government contracts were being discussed in committees he controlled. Boyd knew he could count on both Peter and Monica, but he saw a fierce independent streak in their daughter and feared the worst.
He called Hull on a new burner phone. He’d destroyed the one that had Drew’s number stored in it, and he’d destroy this one by tomorrow.
Hull answered. “Yes.”
“I just left the Stirlings. It didn’t go so well. Drew left. She’s going to talk to the press. I told you I didn’t want her hurt. Now you’ve made it worse.”
“These things happen.”
“Is that an excuse? Goddamn it, Hull. This is my career on the line.”
“No excuses. You’re in a battle here. You have to expect casualties on both sides.”
“Fuck. Fair enough. But, FUCK! What do you suggest our next move should be?”
Hull spoke briefly and told Boyd his opinion.
Boyd told him to sit tight for half an hour or so. He needed time to contemplate. He turned off the freeway and headed uptown. He purposefully took a longer route to drive to his office. He drove under the speed limit and even stopped at a yellow light.
The long term-plan for himself was to seek a position in the Senate. That would never happen if he got caught in a major scandal. The party wouldn’t back him. He’d probably survive a challenge for his seat in the House. Probably. But maybe not. He’d been reelected enough and had coalesced enough power to keep his seat even with a minor sex scandal. A bigger scandal, especially one involving sex with a missing girl, would be a death sentence to his political career. He could survive a career change. But going to prison? Not so easy.
There are points in every man’s life, when looking back, he knew if he’d taken an alternate path, everything in his life would be different. A different college would mean a different wife. A different first job would mean a different career path. He would have never made it to where he was today without the connections he’d made in business, especially with men like Peter Stirling.
Boyd decided he’d prefer giving up his career in politics over facing the possibility of getting caught up in a scandal that would not only end his career, it would place him in risk of going to prison. But he was also conflicted because he felt a strong urge to continue doing what he thought was right. He wasn’t involved in this mess over just money or power or women. He really believed that he was securing a better future for America and protecting the lives of servicemembers. By giving up the work at Genaplat it would almost be like admitting that he never really believed that what they were doing was the right thing in the first place. He didn’t want to admit that could be true. He’d remained a major proponent of the research from the beginning. Creating the worst possible weapons the world had ever seen was the best deterrent to future acts of terrorism by rogue nation states that had nothing to lose by attacking American interests.
No. He would not change his position on this. When it came to his nationalism, he was a man of character and integrity. He’d sworn to defend America and her Constitution against all enemies. Against all enemies. All of them. He called Hull again.
“Hull.”
“I’m giving you twenty-four hours. That’s it. Anything after that is only going to make it worse.”
“Yes, sir. Understood. I’m already heading up to Glenley. Someone from up there just tried to call a cell phone I have from—”
“No details. Just don’t…” He remained silent for a moment.
“Sir?”
“No more fuck ups.”
“Have faith, sir,” Hull said.
Boyd knew he meant those words. He was a patriot too.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
A former CIA agent and a former FBI agent both told me to begin checking into the body count around Hillary and Bill Clinton, during Clinton’s rise to governor of Arkansas and since he has become President.
~ Linda Thompson
Of course there are things I know. If I mentioned them… Look have you ever heard of Jimmy Hoffa?
~ Brandon Hull
Drew Stirling felt sick. She thought of Marc again. His tenderness. Their first kiss. She realized now that she saw the cabin reduced to ashes, he was dead. She assumed before that he was no longer alive. But that wasn’t the same as realizing he was dead. Dead. Gone. The burnt out pit that was once the cabin they’d shared was confirmation that she’d never see him again. The feelings, emotions, and intimacy that had started between them was irrevocably lost.
Sheriff Forrester got out of his police cruiser and put his hands on his hips. “Looks like your attacker came back.”
Drew stood outside the car and felt a wave of shock and sadness. She could sm
ell ash. She watched the sheriff walk closer to the remains of the cabin and investigate. He had a notepad, and after writing a few notes, he looked at his watch. He walked back to Drew. “I’ll need to get a team up here. Arson investigators. We’d better head back. I’m sorry.”
She could hear the sympathy in his voice. He must be assuming Marc was dead too. He wasn’t going to state that out loud, not now, not to her, but she sensed that was what he thought.
He asked Drew a few more questions. He wanted her best estimate of the places she had been when her attacker had fired his weapon at her while she was escaping. She pointed to the direction she thought she’d run, but it had been so dark, and she had been running for her life. He made a few notes.
“We’ll bring up a metal detector. Maybe find some rounds. But, up here? God knows how many rounds there are out in those woods.”
Drew got back into the sheriff’s car. She put on her seat belt and waited.
He made a few more notes, looked around, and came back to the car.
“Just a few more minutes. I want to get a few pictures. This whole place is about to become a crime scene. We don’t get much violent crime up here. A few bar fights once in awhile. This could turn into a circus.”
When he finished they drove back down the hill. When they approached the bridge, Drew explained where she had been hiding when she thought she had seen a cigarette. “I figured that was my one break, and I ran for it.”
After they crossed over the wooden bridge, she explained she’d walked up to the first trailer and then the barking dogs signaled the man. Then he chased her to the main highway.
Sheriff Forrester wrote down additional notes while slowly driving past the trailers.
When they got back into town, he asked her what her plans were. He needed to know where she’d be in case he had any more questions. She thought about it and said she wasn’t sure. She’d let him know, but for now, she was going to grab a bite to eat and think. She promised not to leave town without talking to him again.
Drew drove to the Broken Yolk. She was trying get her thoughts straight when her phone chimed.
Incoming text: Hello Drew, it’s Dallas. I’m in Glenley, can we talk soon?
Outgoing text: Sure. I’m at a place called the Broken Yolk.
Drew jumped. Someone had lightly touched her shoulder. She turned around.
“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Dallas Brown.” He laughed.
He had a kind, friendly voice and his accent placed him from the south, probably Texas based upon his name. He held out his hand. She took it and shook hands with him. He had a strong grip, but he didn’t squeeze too hard. He released her hand first like a gentleman.
“I guess we both came to the only place in town with fresh coffee. I’m assuming you’re Drew?”
“How’d you guess?” She laughed.
They both looked around. The only other people in the place were all over sixty.
“May I sit?”
“Of course, please.”
Drew appreciated that he took his time to make her feel comfortable before starting to grill her on what had happened. He was empathic and compassionate.
“I’m sorry about your friend. I wasn’t close to Brad Novak, but he was a colleague I respected. A nice guy too. I don’t believe he just disappeared on his own. I’m sure these things are connected. I’m sure my editor told you that it’s important to find corroboration. We need to really dig deep for confirmation of the things we suspect. We can’t print assumptions and guesses. You understand?”
“Yes, I know. But we do have things like the cabin. It didn’t just burn down by itself.”
“Let’s talk about the cabin. You say it burnt down? This was the night of the attack?”
“I’m not sure. It wasn’t burning when I left. I guess this guy went back after he decided not to chase me all the way back to Bristol. I suppose he felt he couldn’t catch us, so he went back. He must have decided to burn up any evidence that was up there.”
“And you found out it was burnt down how then? If you didn’t know before?”
“Oh, that? I just got back from there, just now. I mean literally a few minutes ago. I had gone to make a report with the sheriff and we drove up there. He came right back saying he needed to get a team up there.”
“I need to ask you a huge favor. Can you guide me up there? I mean right now? It’s important or I wouldn’t ask. It could really help our story.”
“I suppose so. But why’s it such a rush?”
“Well, you have permission to be there, right? Your friend Marc, he invited you up there, correct?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, once the arson team gets up there, they won’t let any press on the property. It’ll be buttoned up tight. But right now, well, it’s fair game. The sheriff can’t get a team here immediately, so we probably have an hour or two. Depends. But we can go now and get some exclusive photographs. We won’t touch any evidence. I know you don’t want to impede their investigation. I don’t either. But we both want the same thing, this story brought to light. Isn’t that fair to say?”
Drew considered it. She’d recently been up there walking around. If she went back to the same spot, there’d be nothing disturbed.
“Okay,” she said. “You want to drive and I’ll navigate?” She wasn’t too keen on driving her mother’s Cadillac up the mountain on crappy dirt roads.
“Sure, I’m parked right outside.”
They drove away from Glenley and headed towards Fallen Oaks. Drew retold parts of her story. Dallas asked for details when he thought he might have misunderstood parts of her ordeal. It felt good to talk about it, even though it was sad. There was a catharsis in talking about a tragedy to a good listener.
When they turned into the Fallen Oaks Trailer Park, Drew started pointing out where she had been and where she’d ran across the highway. “I was almost hit by Ben when I came out of the trailer park onto the highway.”
“That would have been tragically ironic. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“It’s funny. He’s a nice guy, Ben. I’m hoping to go to California someday and visit him. He literally saved my life.” Her phone chirped and she noticed she had a voicemail. “The service is so spotty up here. I must have missed a call while we were driving down,” she said. She started pushing buttons to retrieve her message. “Do you mind pulling over for a sec? Once you get close to the bridge there is no service the rest of the way up.”
Dallas pulled the car to the side of the road. They’d just passed the last trailer in the park. He parked and waited.
Incoming voicemail: Hello Drew, it’s Dallas Brown, I’m in Bristol and can be reached at this number—
Drew didn’t hear the rest of the message. As she turned towards the driver he reached over and grabbed her arm. He had a gun pointed at her.
“Drop the phone and put both your hands under your ass. Now!”
His voice was no longer empathic and kind. He was no longer speaking with a slow drawn-out country twang. His voice no longer matched the name Dallas. He spoke in a rough, commanding voice. A voice she recognized. He removed a wig and dark glasses and threw them onto the back seat. Drew complied with his order and sat on her hands. She looked straight ahead. He put the car back into drive and pulled out onto the road. He headed in the same direction as before, away from Fallen Oaks towards the bridge.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To your friend.”
When she heard those words she panicked. She tried to open the door, but it was locked. He reached over and grabbed her by the hair before she had a chance to unlock it.
“You aren’t going anywhere. I lost you once. It’s not going to happen again.”
Drew was being held down by her hair. Her attacker was steering with his left hand and holding her down with his right arm. If anyone saw them, they’d assume they were lovers. She wanted to fight,
but the seat belt restrained her. He was much stronger than she was.
“Please. The Congressman, he promised he would never hurt me. Why are you doing this?”
“You might have stood a chance, if you’d done what was asked of you. All you had to do was keep your cute little dick-sucking mouth shut.”
“But you know I’ve already talked to the press and the sheriff. You seriously don’t think you can get away with this?”
He laughed.
“I’m serious. You think people are going to believe I just disappeared?”
“I’m going to let you in on a little secret. People believe things they want to believe. They’ll make up all kinds of justifications to fit facts to their preconceived conclusions. I’ll admit, you’ve caused a lot of extra problems by being alive these extra days. I’ll give you that. You complicated shit. I do respect your effort. I’m still amazed you escaped. But let me tell you something.
“You not being around to go on the news is a big deal. You not being able to answer questions is a big benefit. Those things will mean a lot in getting this story killed. You’ll see the brilliance of my plan here in a second.”
They stopped right before reaching the bridge.
“I’m going to have to kill you. I’m not happy about it. It’s nothing personal. Really, even after the other night. Even after,” he reached down and rubbed his leg, “even after that trap. Which really fucked up my leg by the way. Even after that, this isn’t personal. I’m just doing a job.”
Undressed To The Nines: A Thriller Novel (Drew Stirling Book 1) Page 24
