Drew’s head was still being held down against the seat. He undid his seat belt with his left hand and then reached under her and undid hers.
She pleaded. “Won’t this make it worse? People will know you did this. How can you expect people to think I just disappeared?”
“You’d think. Wouldn’t you? I’ll tell you a little story.”
Drew frowned. He continued talking.
“It was before your time, but there were a bunch of people killed, connected one way or another to a southern governor who became President. Some died in plane crashes. Some killed in the line of duty as law enforcement officers. Others of mysterious means. Hell, they made a movie based on some of the crazy shit he did. Changed the names, of course. He’s a sexual addict too. Just like your Congressman.
“Not thinking straight when they get a boner they can’t control for some sweet-ass blonde. People suspect things, sure. They assume that all those things can’t be a coincidence. But then it seems like crazy conspiracy talk to most folks. So nothing ever gets resolved. You’ll be in a watery grave with your boyfriend. It’ll be weeks, maybe months if I’m lucky, before they find your bodies. Anybody that tries to make a connection to the Congressman will be called a conspiracy nut.”
Drew struggled to get free. He pushed her face harder into the seat.
“Quit fighting, Drew. It’s only going to make it worse.”
She remained still.
“I’m going to offer you some advice. I outweigh you by fifty or sixty pounds, and I’m highly skilled in hand-to-hand. You don’t have a gun. I don’t have a lot of time here, and I’d rather not hurt you. But I will if I have to. If you’ll cooperate, I’ll make this painless.
“Drowning is painless. You’ll drift off into a deep sleep. The water is cold. You won’t feel anything but a deep sleep. I’m going to hold you under. All you need to do is just swallow a big breath. It only takes a teaspoon, you know, only a teaspoon of water to drown a person.
“You have an entire creek. If you don’t fight and don’t struggle, I won’t have to use pain. Drew, that’s the best offer you’re going to get here. You can say prayers. Talk to Jesus if that’s your thing. Whatever you want. But if you fight me right now, I’ll cause you pain you didn’t think was possible.”
He opened his door and dragged her out by the hair.
CHAPTER SIXTY
Travel is never a matter of money but of courage.
~ Paulo Coelho
It didn’t take me long to figure out the best I could hope for was a good friend. But I didn’t admit this to myself, of course. Why ruin the fantasy prematurely?
~ Ben Davis
Ben Davis stopped for gas and snacks. He had left Bristol after saying goodbye to Drew, and he found himself thinking about her more than he expected. They’d barely known each other. They hadn’t slept together. He was moving across the country. But he did have her number and her email. Maybe she’d follow up on her dream to go to college. He would encourage her. Maybe she’d come to California too. He hoped so. He hoped she’d be okay and safe. He hoped she’d work out the giant mess she was in. Maybe it would be better not to pursue her.
She was from his hometown. How many people really left Bristol or any hometown for good? How many people actually moved to California, Hawaii, or Florida and started new lives? So many people talked about moving somewhere exotic, somewhere new. But so few people followed through. Not many people really wanted adventure and risk. He’d realized this himself nearly a year ago. He had often doubted his own resolve over the last several months. He eventually decided for sure that he was going to put himself into that small percentage of people who actually left. Those that chased dreams would be his role models and heroes.
Facing west, he took a picture of an interstate highway sign. He posted it on Instagram, tagged Drew, and left her a comment. Be careful crossing highways. He got into his car and pulled back onto the interstate. California was still a long drive away.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.
~ William Goldman
Life is difficult. I read that somewhere. True shit. No, I’m serious. Mostly pain, struggle, and boredom. But, you know, sometimes things happen to make it all worthwhile. Well, they say that too. I’m sure I read it somewhere.
~ Drew Stirling
Drew Stirling couldn’t fight against him. He was dragging her towards the creek. He was much stronger, taller, and trained as a fighter. He was a killer. She didn’t have a shotgun this time to protect herself. He didn’t need a gun to control her. He was going to pull her right into the creek and hold her under. She was going to die. She hoped someone would drive up. Maybe the sheriff or one of his deputies?
She started screaming for help. Her ears and throat began to hurt moments into her scream. She felt that her vocal cords were about to burst, but the pain she felt next was the worst she’d ever experienced.
He had used a swift motion to throw her off balance, and he grabbed her left hand. He applied a pressure hold to one of her fingers. He squeezed it in on itself with such force she was sure he’d broken it.
She dropped to her knees. She was in excruciating pain.
“Shut the fuck up. Nobody can hear you out here. I told you: this can be the most painful thing you’ve ever experienced. Or you can go peacefully.”
She started to kick and thrash. She wasn’t going to surrender without a fight. He applied pressure again to her bent finger. He twisted her wrist in such a way that she thought he was going to break her arm off at the elbow like a misused Barbie Doll. She gasped for air and gave up struggling. She slumped and started to cry.
“Get up.”
He pulled her to her feet and kept her hand in his grip. As they walked to the water she couldn’t slow her pace even for a second. If she did, he reapplied pressure and shooting pain went through her body.
When they entered the water she panicked. She struggled to free herself again. She didn’t care about the pain anymore. She didn’t care if her arm was ripped from the socket. She was going to live. Her survival instinct took over.
He hit her with a sharp snap at the base of the neck into the muscle above her shoulder, and she cried out in pain. She stopped struggling.
“Come on.”
She moved slowly along with him.
“Drew, I hate doing this. Really. You may not believe this, but I have no pleasure in killing you. I’m just doing my job. It’s up to others to decide when violence is necessary. I’m just a soldier. I hope you can accept that and have peace.”
Drew was silent. She felt her mouth go dry and her pulse quicken. Her body had quit registering pain. She was not listening to her attacker. Although she could hear his words, they weren’t registering in her brain. She’d entered an animal state. Survival at all costs.
“I’m going to walk you out a few more feet. I’ll give you a moment. Say a prayer, meditate, and shut your eyes. When you exhale, empty your lungs. When you feel yourself under water like a baptism breathe in as deeply as you can. I’ll hold you and you’ll sleep. This can be peaceful if you’ll let it be. Just let it be. Let it be, Drew.”
They walked a few more steps. Drew could feel the water at her waist. She waited until he shifted his weight from one side to the other. Then she drove her foot as hard as she could into his injured leg. He screamed out in pain. When he took the weight off of his injured leg, he began to lose his balance on the rocks, and he let go of her. She kicked his leg again. He screamed and slipped. Drew attacked again. She wanted to live. More than anything.
She knew he was screaming as he fell under the water. Exhaling. And now he was forced to hold his breath. She inhaled deeply before she submerged. As she landed on top of him she wrapped her legs around his chest and her arms around his neck. She squeezed. She had her legs holding on tightly and her arms drawing him towards herself like an embrace.
/> He struggled. She could tell he was trying to regain balance with only the use of one leg. He was top heavy, and he was out of breath.
Drew could feel him start to panic as she allowed some of her air to escape her own lungs. She knew she had time. Her lungs weren’t even burning yet. He struggled next to her. She knew his lungs, those of an older man who smoked, couldn’t supply him oxygen the way hers could.
Just breathe, damn it. Breathe! You know you need to. Breathe!
It finally came. His struggle for oxygen overrode his conscious mind, and he gulped. Drew could feel his body go into convulsions that seemed to last for minutes. Her lungs were now burning. She forced herself to hold her breath a moment longer. After his body stilled she released it and it drifted away. She burst through the surface of the water.
Air. Life.
She breathed in deeply and then ran to shore. Drew was hurt, cold, and stunned. She watched the surface of the water, ready to run if he surfaced in case he wasn’t really dead. She watched and waited, but the creek went back to being peaceful. The only sound was the the gentle babbling of the water and an occasional bird. I’m alive. A moment ago, I was dead. I’m truly born again. Nearly a religious experience, she thought to herself.
She walked back to his car and leaned against it. Her body was aching, but apparently she had no lasting injuries. She simply ached where he’d hurt her with the pressure holds. Her fingers were all unbroken. Her neck and leg muscles were sore, but she was not seriously injured. Drew walked around to the driver’s side hoping he’d left the keys. He had. He had been planning on a quick getaway, but now it was her escaping.
I’m getting away. I’m the one getting away. She kept reminding herself that she’d escaped death and that her whole life had just been handed to her as if it was a gift.
When she pulled up to the main highway she stopped and looked to the right. Up that road was Glenley. She could go to the Sheriff’s Department and tell him her attacker was caught and that particular crime had been solved.
She noticed the man’s cell phone on the seat. It was a cheap burner phone. She lit up the front screen and checked the contact folder. It had two numbers, one labeled “DS” and the other “The Man.”
Drew typed.
Outgoing text: She’s handled
Incoming text: Good job. Head to D.C., debrief tomorrow, 1 p.m.
Outgoing text: My father always taught me not to get mad
Incoming text: That’s right, Get even
Outgoing text: No, mother fucker. My dad is Peter Stirling. He taught me to fucking get ahead.
EPILOGUE
Do you know what love is? I'll tell you: it is whatever you can still betray.
~ John le Carre
I’d never go back.
~ Drew Stirling
Drew Stirling felt the California sunshine warm her skin while she watched Ben attempt to surf. He wasn’t very good. He enjoyed himself, however, and that was the important part.
“You’re going to burn,” he said. He set down his surfboard and dried himself with a San Diego Padres beach towel.
“I’ll be okay. I’ve worked hard on this tan. You hungry?”
They went straight to their favorite Mexican restaurant after leaving the beach. Ben ordered a pitcher of margaritas. Tonight they were celebrating. Drew had enrolled in classes at the University of California San Diego, and in two days she would start college. It had been a year since she’d made the decision not to go into Glenley and report to the sheriff. She had decided to hide instead, and to put Marc’s plan into action.
The second phone number that had been in her attacker’s burner cell phone had been Ben Davis. She’d texted him to keep her a secret. He agreed and she fled to California.
The Congressman never messaged her.
She’d missed Marc’s funeral. It was the hardest thing she did next to keeping her mother in the dark. Ben helped her hide in California for three months. The press had gone crazy just like Marc had predicted.
Congressman Boyd had been forced to admit on national television that he’d had a “moral failing.”
A political blogger had come into possession of a neck tie that Congressman Boyd had used to tie up Drew Stirling. The blogger had purchased the tie from an unnamed housekeeper at the Blackstone. He speculated that DNA tests would come back positive for both Boyd and Drew, but before that became necessary, Boyd acknowledged the truth.
Boyd had been forced to admit that he had betrayed his wife, his family, and his constituents. He remained steadfast that he had nothing to do with Drew Stirling’s disappearance. He claimed he had no knowledge of anyone sent to attack Drew. He promised to fully cooperate with law enforcement. He announced he would not seek reelection.
Drew had cried when she saw her mother on the evening news. Monica Stirling told the press about her own suspicions regarding the Congressman’s involvement in her daughter’s disappearance.
The inside story of Genaplat Technology Labs never made the national news. Maybe powerful leaders convinced the press that going public could cause a war. Maybe nobody would or could corroborate Brad Novak’s original story. Drew didn’t want these decisions on her shoulders and never talked about Genaplat with the press.
Marc Chase’s death was ruled a drowning. If Hull’s body was recovered, Drew never heard it mentioned in the press.
Her agent had contacted several major magazines and a bidding war ensued. Drew cashed in on her photos. Marc’s father also received a good sum of money. He and Drew talked once she came out of hiding. He planned to rebuild his cabin. He’d vowed to hire a private investigator to look into his son’s death.
Drew was happy with her new life. She was going to find a career she felt was meaningful. She and Ben had become close friends which was what she needed. Lovers were easy to find. True friends were rare. She cherished Ben like a brother.
Drew lifted her drink and toasted their future. She smiled. Ben smiled back. Life was good. She’d discovered recently that friends could become family.
She excused herself and walked towards the ladies’ room. While waiting her turn, she noticed a photocopied sheet of paper taped to the wall outside the restroom. It had a black and white photo of a pretty blonde.
Missing: Jillian McCormick ‘Jill’ Age 18
5’4” 110 lbs, Blonde Hair, Green Eyes
Freshman @ UCSD
Drew stared at the picture. Jillian was cute and petite. She looked like she was too young to be in college. Drew read the rest of the poster and learned the girl had been missing for about a week. Jillian McCormick had walked away from a college party sometime around midnight last Friday. Nobody had seen her since. Her parents had offered a reward. The poster stated that anyone with information should contact the San Diego Police Department.
Drew felt a dull pain. It was a mix of her sadness for the girl and her own feelings of relief.
I lived. I survived. I won.
The End
Coming Soon:
Undressed At Sea
A Drew Stirling Thriller
By
Jayden Hunter
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Undressed To The Nines: A Thriller Novel (Drew Stirling Book 1) Page 25