The Naked Truth

by Maggie Aldrich

  Darcy snorted.

  “Omigod. So, you’re telling me that while you were busy lighting up a joint, my dad was trying to kill my husband.” My dad and Fritz looked abashed, while Michael heaved loud, heavy sobs in the background.

  I felt like I was on a reality TV show. Was this really my honeymoon? I looked at Darcy and clenched my teeth. We’d been locked up by people with guns on a drug lord’s property after chasing after my “presumed dead”, possible FBI double agent dad, who had put my husband in a choke hold while my oblivious hired private investigator was getting high to relieve pain from his sciatica. Despite the seriousness of our situation, a giggle escaped my lips. Darcy looked at me, pressing her lips together, also trying to muffle a laugh. However, neither of us could contain ourselves, and we soon both exploded in laughter, tears running down our cheeks. Fritz looked at my dad, and soon they too were laughing. Michael wedged his way in between the two of them, his tear stained face red from crying.

  “Babe,” he hiccupped, “you okay?” His mouth hung open and his eyes looked glazed as he stared into the screen.

  I nodded my head and doubled over in laughter.

  “My head hurts,” he said, sighing heavily as he turned around to walk off.

  The laughter eventually died down and, sadly, we were again faced with the seriousness of the situation. Darcy went to the soda machine and filled up two glasses, returning to give me one.

  “Wait, something doesn’t make sense here,” she said. She slowly stirred her drink with a straw. “Mr. P., how didn’t you recognize Michael today when you saw him last weekend at the wedding?”

  “I wasn’t at the wedding,” my dad replied. He shook his head and looked at me. “I knew all about it, hon, and I’m sorry. But I’d never put you in that kind of danger. What’s she talking about?”

  “Someone left me a note, and they signed your name.” I explained the note to my dad, and how it had turned to goo once it hit the water, and Fritz’s resulting lab analysis.

  “Who gave the priest that note? What did he look like?” he asked, puzzled.

  “Well, apparently he was a tall, white male with dark hair. Mid-thirties, pretty muscular, with some body ink,” Fritz said. He walked off-screen for a moment and I could see Michael passed out on the pool table. Loud snores escaped his mouth.

  “Hmmm,” my dad said quietly, furrowing his brow in concentration. “There is one person I can think of that fits that description, but…”

  “Who?” I asked when his voice trailed off. “Who was it?” I wanted to know who’d followed me to California. Who knew so much about me, and apparently my dad, that they’d show up at my wedding and risk being seen, only to leave a forged note? It didn’t make any sense.

  “No one you’d know,” he replied. He leaned back against the pool table behind him, Michael oblivious to the company.

  There was so much about my dad that I didn’t know. So many questions I had. I only hoped we’d both live to see the day when I could get those questions answered.

  I walked over to the soda fountain to refill my drink. Grabbing some peanut M&Ms off the counter, I made my way back over to the screen.

  “So, what’s your big plan to get us out of here, Mr. P? Oh, and Darcy Jensen of KVKX by the way.” She tipped a finger to her forehead in a mock salute. My dad nodded in return.

  “I haven’t thought of that yet,” he replied. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. I still couldn’t believe he was alive and that we were in this miserable situation. All I wanted to do was go to him and hug him. But reality dictated otherwise.

  “Well, we can’t really go anywhere until this lug wakes up,” Fritz said, jerking his thumb at Michael. “And when he does, I have a feeling he’s gonna be a force to be reckoned with. Actually,” he continued, “I’d kinda not like to be around for that.” He looked around at the exits.

  “Don’t you dare leave my husband behind,” I warned him. “You’re the reason he’s in this condition.” I gave Fritz my sternest glare and he chuckled.

  “Oh, Emily. I’m not going to leave this guy behind, trust me. Plus, if I could get out, I would’ve already,” he muttered.

  “And no more joints.”

  He raised his hands in defeat and walked away.

  My dad sat there, pondering what to do next. After several minutes of silence, he spoke, his tone grave; it was the voice he used only when I was in serious trouble as a child.

  “I’m going to come break you out. I’ve got to get you out of here before Izzy gets here. We can’t wait any longer.”

  “You’re coming with us, Dad,” I countered.

  He looked up at me, his face set with determination. “I already told you. I will come down this mountain when Izzy is dead.”

  “But Dad, I think the best idea might be to—”

  Suddenly, I heard a scratching at the door. Darcy’s head shot up, her eyes frantic. She slashed a finger across her throat and I hissed at my dad, “They’re here! They’re here! Cut us off!” I heard a small click and the door began to swing open. My breath caught in my throat and I willed the screen to go black, my hands shaking in fright. Darcy grabbed our cups and threw them in a trash can like a teenager about to get caught drinking, while I stuffed the peanut M&Ms in my pocket. She threw herself into a Barcalounger and pretended to be asleep. Just as the door swung wide, the screen blessedly went black. A huge breath escaped from me, and I thought I’d pass out from relief.

  “What are you doing in here, mis chicas gringas?” The shorter man, Diego, entered. The Ruger sat comfortably in my waistband, but that knowledge gave me only a smidge of confidence. Most likely, I’d use it to hit someone over the head before I’d shoot them with it. But again, he didn’t know that. Diego gave me the creeps, and I was sure I could be persuaded to pull the trigger if I had to.

  Darcy opened her eyes at the sound of his voice, stood up, and edged closer to me. She took my hand to stop the trembling. “What do you want?” she said slowly, in a loud voice. “Remember, I no-espeako-de Espanol.”

  “Stupid bitches,” he muttered, shaking his head, a sneer on his face. “You understand that?”

  I had known what he and Marco were saying all along. And most of it wasn’t nice. But I stayed quiet, still pretending I didn’t know any Spanish.

  “Listen, why are you holding us here?” Darcy asked. “We haven’t done anything wrong.” She looked at me and continued. “And, uh, my friend here needs her medicine. She’s diabetic, and she could go into a coma.”

  Oh, boy, I thought, she’s using the oldest line in the book. I thought of the two cups of soda I’d had and the peanut M&Ms in my pocket. I hoped Diego wouldn’t look in the trash can.

  “Mierda,” he said. Bullshit. “You no look sick.”

  Darcy nudged me none too gently. “Play the part,” she whispered. I staggered to the side at her jab, feigning light-headedness.

  “Hmmm,” Diego said, rubbing the spotty goatee on his greasy face. Why do some men insist on growing facial hair when they so obviously shouldn’t? A spotty goatee doesn’t make you look like a man. It makes you look juvenile. The large semiautomatic, however…well, that makes you look like a crazy juvenile.

  “Izzy no like this. You no get sick on Izzy’s floor.” He glared at me, held up his gun, and retreated, shutting the door and taking care to lock us in once again.

  We both exhaled in relief when he was gone.

  “Maybe that bought us some time,” Darcy said.

  “Or maybe they’re going to check on us more often, now that they think I’m ‘sick.’ Why did you even say that?”

  “I don’t know.” She started pacing back and forth. “That’s what reporters are taught to say whenever we’re covering a story about a missing child. You know,” she looked at me pleadingly, “to try to convince the kidnappers to release them.”

  I heaved myself back into a lounge chair. “Yeah, well, I’d say most kidnappers have no compassion, and neither do these guys.”


  “Well, they did let us pee.”

  I rolled my eyes and thought a second.

  Marco did. And he had looked a tad bit remorseful when Darcy had yelled at him for prodding her with the gun. Out of the two of them, he was the most compassionate. He was definitely the one we’d have to work on to get him to help us if we wanted to get out of there alive. But how?

  ●CHAPTER 25●

  DARCY RESUMED HER LOUNGING POSITION, and I paced in the media room, anxious to hear back from the guys.

  “We have to find a way to get out of here,” I said, arms crossed. I chewed on my bottom lip and gazed around the room. There was only one exit. No windows, not even a bathroom. That seemed odd to me. You’d think there would be all kinds of escape routes available in a drug lord’s house. Tunnels, even. I thought some more, looking around the room. Maybe there were. Maybe they were just hidden.

  I started gently knocking on the wall, moving up and down, pressing my ear flat against it in an attempt to listen carefully for any change in pitch.

  “What the heck are you doing?” Darcy asked, disdainfully. I shushed her, and after a minute, she stood up to join me.

  “There’s got to be a secret passage out of here, don’t you think? I mean, Izzy’s a freaking drug lord, for goodness’ sake. Surely, he has more than one exit from a windowless room. I’m trying to find it.” I kept tapping up and down the wall, listening for a subtle change in sound. Of course, I had no idea what kind of sound I was supposed to hear. A hollow sound? An echo? Someone on the other side telling me to knock it off (no pun intended…okay, pun intended.)

  Darcy sighed. “Someone has played one too many games of Clue,” she mused. “If we find one, do you think it will lead us to the study or the conservatory?” I chose to ignore her. She shrugged her shoulders and begrudgingly joined me. Together we gently tapped on all four walls in the room, taking our time. After about twenty minutes, we’d gotten nowhere. I began to doubt my theory.

  “There’s got to be another way out of here,” I growled. I walked up to the huge screen, which was really nine individual screens meshed together as one big screen. Looking behind them, I saw nothing but cords, holes, and mounting units. A large red power button on the side of the bottom right screen stared me in the face as I pressed my head against the wall and struggled to see a hidden lever that wasn’t there. What was I hoping for? A flashing light and a big red arrow?

  “What next, Sherlock?” Darcy said sarcastically. She lifted her arms in frustration. “Well, if nothing else, the station will notice I’m missing when I don’t show up for work in…oh…thirty minutes.” She leaned back against the wall behind me and closed her eyes.

  “Right,” I said half-heartedly. I wasn’t going to give up and wait to be rescued. We had to get out of here sooner rather than later. Of that, I was sure. There had to be some other way out of this room. We were so close, I just knew it. I rested my head against the wall, letting my vision blur for just a second. The big red power button swam in and out of focus. Wait a second. Would that just turn on the screens or did it serve some other purpose? Could that possibly be the key to our escape? I reached up tentatively and pressed the button. Holding my breath, I waited for something to happen.

  Nothing.

  Frustrated, I banged my fist against it, not really caring if the whole place heard us. We had to take action. We had to get—suddenly, the wall started to shake. I froze and turned my gaze slowly.

  “Whoa!” Darcy chirped. Her arms flailed as she struggled to keep her balance. She stumbled back as the wall behind her gave way, her body falling into darkness. I whipped around and tried to grab her arm before she hit the ground, but my boot caught on the lip of the floor, and we both tumbled to the ground. The wall then closed up behind us and we were swallowed up by darkness.

  “Nooooo!” Darcy said. “I need light. I need light! I’m claustrophobic!” Her voice began to rise in panic, and she started to squirm, putting a death grip on my arm. I grabbed my phone to turn on the flashlight.

  “Breathe,” I told her. “Breathe. Everything’s going to be all right.” Overhead, lights started to flash, and I could see small fluorescent bulbs slowly flickering to life. A dim glow began to light up the space, and Darcy’s grip on my arm relaxed just a bit.

  “This is unbelievable,” I said, my voice just a whisper. I pushed myself up to standing and looked around. We were in a small, enclosed hallway of sorts. It was no more than two feet wide and windowless. A musty smell filled the air, and I knew Darcy wouldn’t be able to keep her claustrophobia at bay for long in here. The passageway was long with randomly placed doors on either side. I figured it must run the length of the house. The doors must open to each room that had access to it.

  Turning around, I desperately grabbed the doorknob that led to the media room. It was locked. What kind of secret passageway lets you in but has no way back out? Chills crept down my spine, and I began to feel a bit claustrophobic as well. I bolted to the next door and tried the knob. Nothing.

  Had we triggered some kind of alarm when we escaped our room? Was the house fully locked down? Would they come looking for us? They’d have to know where we’d gone. Besides the door to the hall, which had been, presumably, guarded, this passageway was the only way out.

  Our only option was to continue moving until we found the exit. I just hoped we could find it before the banditos or Izzy found us.

  “Emily,” Darcy said, her voice breaking as she fought to hold back tears. “I gotta get out of here.” Her eyes darted back and forth around our small, enclosed space. “I can’t do this.” Her breathing quickly became shallow and rapid. I grabbed hold of her hand and she squeezed mine so hard I thought my fingers would break. “I really, really can’t do this. We’re trapped in here!”

  “Hey,” I said, wresting my hand from her grip and putting both hands on her shoulders, “we’re going to get out of here.” I pointed down the passageway and kept talking. “Like in every good mystery game, there’s an end to this secret passage.” I gave her what I hoped was an encouraging smile. “We just have to find it.” Grabbing her hand, I began to pull her down the hallway. “One of these rooms has the guys in it, right?” They could be in the basement for all I knew, but I was trying to think positive.

  “I guess,” she said quietly.

  “Then we need to figure out which one it is. Pay close attention to anything you hear.” We tiptoed to the next door and pressed our ears against it. I could only hear my shallow breathing and looked up at Darcy to make sure she wasn’t holding her breath. The last thing I needed was for her to pass out on me.

  “Nothing,” she whispered. Her eyes darted to the next door and we hurried down the hall.

  We both put our ears to the door and I held my breath. I could feel a subtle, intermittent vibration against my cheek. What was that? Tilting my head a bit, I pressed my ear harder against the door. The quiet, rumbling noise faded, only to come back a second later. It was quite rhythmic…almost like breathing. Was that Michael snoring?

  My eyes darted up to Darcy’s, and she nodded, indicating she’d heard it too. We waited a beat, quiet as mice. My breathing was so shallow, I was amazed I didn’t pass out then and there.

  Suddenly, I heard mumbling from the other side of the wall. Could that be Fritz or my dad talking? Darcy and I both strained to hear, our foreheads touching. Darcy whipped her head up, jacking my forehead in the process, and gave me a big thumbs up.

  “It’s them! It’s them!” she whispered excitedly.

  “How do you know?” I asked, rubbing the sore spot on my head. I hadn’t been able to make out anything discernable. For all I knew, Izzy could have been in there, and I didn’t know what Izzy sounded like at all.

  Darcy looked at me like I was crazy. “Don’t you recognize Fritz’s voice?” I frowned and shook my head no.

  “Well, you are older, and the range that older folks can hear decreases with every passing year.” She nodded her head li
ke she’d just explained one of the secrets of the world. As if I can’t hear as well because I’m a full—what—five or so years older than she is? Whatever. I rolled my eyes and sighed.

  “Are you sure it’s them?” I asked. How would we get their attention? We’d have to make some kind of noise for them to notice us so they could open the door to the secret passage. If we were wrong about who was in that room…well, I wasn’t going to think about that.

  “Yes. I’d stake my life on it.” Darcy looked completely serious, and I hoped she wasn’t only set on getting out of this passage to relieve her claustrophobia. If she was wrong about who was in that room, we were dead.

  I hesitated a brief moment, then slowly began tapping on the wall. My dad had taught me Morse code when I was little, and we used to tap to each other from different rooms. Funny, I’d always thought it was just a game. I had no idea he probably used it on a regular basis, and I’d have a need for it in real life down the road. Would he remember our special code and be able to decipher it?

  I tapped out “DAD” using softer, quicker taps for the dots, harder taps for the dashes. I paused for five seconds when I was finished, and then began again. The room on the other side of the wall became silent but for Michael’s rhythmic snoring. Either they couldn’t hear me, were listening intently and silently, or had visitors. Or we had the wrong room altogether. Dare I knock any louder?

  After tapping through his name twice, I paused again, held my breath, and counted to five. Immediately, distinct tapping could be heard coming from their side of the wall. Darcy and I both jumped for joy, muffling the taps entirely.

  We quieted down and pressed our ears against the wall. Silence. Oh please, God, I thought, let them try again. Then I heard it. One soft tap, followed by two harder taps. “EM”. He was communicating with me! He remembered!

  Relief filled my body as I shakily began to tap out abbreviated instructions for them to look for a red button to open the wall. My dad was an FBI secret agent. Surely, he’d be able to figure this out, right?