“It’s complicated, Jillian. I wish I could tell you more.”
Jillian handed him the copy of the Sonora address. Her cheeks caved. “Brad Palmier ruined Laurel’s life. Everyone loved her here then, out of the blue, she announced her resignation. None of us were invited to the wedding held on the Genevive campus. She rarely kept in touch afterwards. Several months later we learned of her presumed death in a cave in New Mexico.”
He placed the folded copy in his jacket pocket. “You must have been a good friend. It’s not clear whether the accusations against Laurel were true or not.”
She looked up. “What accusations?”
“The reports I’ve read indicate cause of death as suicide in the New Mexico cave. Her ex-husband Brad Palmier told me she attempted to take three other cavers along with her.”
Jillian took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. Halliday saw a new expression on her face that might have been frustration or just plain anger.
“It’s not true,” she said, slamming her glasses into a legal pad. “The Laurel I knew was a loving, caring person who always put other people ahead of herself.”
That’s the response he was after. “During her employment, did you ever detect signs of personality disorder, outbursts, or anything out of the ordinary?”
She sighed. “Detective Halliday, there was nothing wrong with Laurel McKittrick. Brad Palmier and those professional Genevive lawyers assassinated her character. They made up the ‘mental stories’ to speed the divorce process. Later, they labeled her demise in the New Mexico cave as a suicide because it made better press.”
He glanced at his watch. “Let me know if you think of anything further. Here’s my business card. There’s a fax number.”
Jillian’s saintly beam returned. “I’ll help you in any way possible, detective. I don’t think anyone got too close to Laurel. Our relationship was strictly professional. She was a good person.”
“Another thing, would you happen to have a document bearing Laurel McKittrick’s signature?”
She hesitated. “We probably have a box of her work documents somewhere in the back room. It might take some time to find something with her signature. If we find it I can fax it to you. Will that work?”
“That would be fine Miss Andrews.”
Instinct told him that Jillian had lied about her relationship with Laurel. They had been closer than she wanted to admit. How else would she have known to what extent Palmier had ruined his wife’s life? A bottle of spring water on Jillian’s desk jogged his memory. “What happened at the public spa across the street?”
Jillian’s eyes searched the hallway outside the office then she leaned forward. “They shut it down a few days ago. Just drove up, padlocked the gate. Yesterday, scientists from Genevive Labs arrived. They gathered samples of the water.”
“What do you think is going on?”
Jillian hesitated. “Why would they test the water?” Her eyes grew larger. “Was it to search for pollutants?”
“Did they check your water?”
“They said the public spa had been shut down for routine maintenance. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen it done. They told me not to worry, that my water’s fine.”
“What’s your opinion of Genevive Labs?”
“Well, they are secretive. No one knows what really goes on there. According to the Tribune they’ve made great medical accomplishments. In my opinion, Genevive does not necessarily work within the best interests of our community.”
He thought she was much too kind. “How so?”
“I wouldn’t know. Mr. Halliday, time will tell.”
Really Jillian? “I have a feeling that you have your hand on the pulse of the county.”
She leaned back in her chair and caught a breath.
He thought of Gennie One-Seven. “Have you heard anything about cattle rustling going on in the county?”
She paused before she said, “There are rumors. You should talk to the ranchers. They’re the ones raising concerns. I wouldn’t put it past Genevive Labs, though.”
They made small talk for a few minutes. Halliday learned about the spa’s security. Despite her angelic appearance, the righteous demeanor, he knew that Jillian was hiding something.
“Could you let me know if you hear any updates on what’s going on at the public spa? I’d be interested.”
“I’d be glad to, Detective Halliday. Some of our customers are VIPs from Genevive Labs. The main campus is just on the other side of the hill. We hear the wind chimes in the evening.”
“Wind chimes?”
“Genevive paid a well-known artist a small fortune to design a huge set of wind chimes that set atop the hill above the campus. A good wind activates them. Sometimes they can even be heard miles away. I’m told when the scientists stress out, they venture up the hill in the evening to bang the chimes.”
The chimes were what he had heard in the meadow while looking for Lamar Festus. “Is there access to the hill from the rear of this property?”
“No, Genevive is completely surrounded by a fence topped with coils of razor wire.”
“Concertina wire.”
She nodded. “I’ve heard rumors that they have security cameras in the trees. An employee’s boyfriend is an electronics engineer. He said they use all sorts of high tech stuff, including remote alarms. It’s all designed to keep the public off the campus.”
“Jillian, who do you work for? Who owns Santa Reina Hot Springs Resort?”
She avoided his eyes. “The Foxworth family had owned this land for over a century. Genevive Labs bought them out, after government intervention. The federal government required that they lease this property back to the Foxworth family.”
“I see,” Halliday said.
Jillian leaned in with conspiracy written all over her face. “I’ve heard rumors that officially Genevive Labs is not a corporation. It’s somehow connected to the Department of Defense.”
That explained a lot. “You know your territory.”
“It’s part of my job, as manager.”
She winced squeamishly. “Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned the part about the U.S. Department of Defense. As you know, rumors have wings in Santa Reina.”
“I’ll keep it to myself,” Halliday replied. “Mind if I look around before I leave?”
“Be my guest, Detective Halliday. Unlike Genevive Labs, we have nothing to hide.”
Chapter Eighteen
Before he left the office complex Halliday argued with the atrium parrots. He also made small talk with Jillian’s less talkative female employees. Laurel’s name conjured up sweet sorrows. They all praised Jillian, commenting on how she stayed in tune with life. One of the front office girls admitted that the spa’s casual, unstressed work environment was “way too cool.”
He was convinced that Jillian and Laurel had been close friends. Could she be involved with the voicemail he had received from the deceased woman?
Halliday took the nickel tour of Santa Reina Hot Springs, which according to Jillian had been soaking local nabobs and out-of-town VIPs since 1949. A rusted chain link fence ringed the facility to keep the wildlife out. He wandered the property along the fence. Strands of ivy intertwined with wild berry vines. Spider webs glistened with morning dew all along the perimeter. No one had ventured out here in quite a while. He breathed in the clear mountain air. The tranquil setting gave him a false sense of security, as if nothing could ever go wrong at Santa Reina Hot Springs.
At the rear of the property he found a small opening in the ivy. He pushed the vines aside. A rabbit froze in front of him. He stared at it for several seconds. The animal vibrated, as if it had a little motor inside churning around at several thousand RPM. When Halliday wiggled his nose the rabbit scurried off.
Twenty feet away he saw a Genevive Labs sign warning, KEEP OUT. Above the concertina wire fence the terrain rose to the flat hill he had seen during his visit to Genevive Labs. Jillian had said the chimes were locate
d on this end. From his vantage point he couldn’t tell.
He returned to the spa entrance. A footpath allowed visitors to return to their cabanas after parking their cars in the adjacent lot. Video cameras—at the insistence of Genevive according to Jillian—served as guardians along the well lit footpath that led to a gate where entry required a room key card. No guards patrolled the facility after hours. Attendants manned the reception desk 24/7.
As he walked to his car Halliday considered what he had learned that could shed some light on the Laurel McKittrick case. Jillian’s contention that the DOD owned Genevive Labs seemed worth checking into. He had seen no relationship between Santa Reina Hot Springs Resort and Genevive Labs other than the land dispute. Although Jillian Andrews had become Laurel’s close friend, she wouldn’t admit it. Jillian hated Genevive Labs and Brad Palmier, but would not admit it. Why?
He had gotten the biggest rise out of Jillian when he brought up Laurel’s possible mental problems. She alleged that Palmier and Genevive Labs had fabricated it. Halliday saw a motive for revenge. Jillian didn’t come across as a vengeful person or someone who would fabricate Laurel’s resurrection.
Halliday had left his car underneath a shade tree at the back of the parking lot. He got into the driver’s seat. With the window down, a soft breeze played. The phone buzzed. Another voicemail.
“Detective Halliday, Jillian is a good spiritual person,” Laurel said. “You can trust her. Genevive shut down the public spa across the street because they have been dumping refuse from their experiments into the ground water. Scientists in the ultra secret building C14 have been conducting hideous experiments. They dump animal remains. The natural well beneath C14 leaks into the public spa. Santa Reina Hot Springs is fed by a different underground waterway. I know this because I have explored the underground water systems.”
Unlike the other voicemails, she spoke at a rapid pace.
“Detective Halliday, I’ve seen terrifying things come out at the bottom of the well. Skeletons of animals and… Oh God, it’s too horrible to think about.”
During the long pause he smashed his fist into the dashboard. Why wouldn’t she just come out with things? Mixed feelings flooded his mind. A dull pain shot from his neck up to his temple. Part of him wanted to help clear Laurel. Another part of him wondered if Brad Palmier, despite being a rat, had told the truth when he said Laurel had needed psychiatric help. Genevive Labs, a respected corporation, prominent on the NYSE, a major contributor to charities, had accomplished much for America. They weren’t Arab terrorists, Chinese spies, or neo-Nazi fanatics.
Laurel’s voice continued, “Don’t believe what Brad may have told you. I’m not psychotic.”
Psychic was the better word.
“Brad Palmier knows full well what is going on at Genevive. One reason why he divorced me is that he messed up. He left a confidential memo in his trousers. It’s one of the files that I forwarded to you. It details Genevive’s concern that the experimental dumps might leak into the public water system. Well, it’s happened.
Please remind Brad of my October 31st threat. I need to keep the pressure on him. This could help pave the way for the unveiling of the terrible things that are occurring at Genevive Labs.”
Another long pause.
“Meet me on the hill above Genevive Labs, by the chimes, at 1:00 a.m. tomorrow morning. We need to discuss the files. The horrendous acts going on at Genevive labs must be stopped.”
Click.
Halliday slapped the steering wheel. He would meet her at last. Although the horn blared, he might as well have been alone in the forest.
He inserted the flash drive into the laptop’s USB port.
The memo came up on the screen. Genevive’s Chief Scientist Viktor Krabbi had voiced concern to CEO Robert Gartner that waste products would infiltrate the local ground water supplies. Dr. Krabbi described the well beneath building C14. Genevive had plans to replace the well with a twenty million dollar high tech stealth incinerator system. An alternate underground building under construction would house the incinerator system. He cited the strict California environmental laws. They would further alleviate any problems by burning refuse during the hours of 2:00 a.m. to 4:00 a.m.
This document, assuming its legitimacy, in the hands of the state Attorney General would give Genevive Labs a headache, not to mention lawsuits.
It bothered Halliday that Palmier’s M.O. didn’t fit Laurel’s description of a forgetful executive. He didn’t seem the type to mislay a top secret memo in his trousers.
The second document, a memo, written by Genevive Labs Security Chief George Altman, requested that funds be allocated to an unidentified member of the Santa Reina PD. It was in regards to compensation for pigeonholing farmer’s complaints over Genevive’s rustling activities. The memo listed the names of Redwood Bluff and Santa Reina residents who had filed complaints against Genevive Labs. Bob Rogers was first on the list.
Genevive’s actions were blatant. Halliday was appalled that a member of the Santa Reina PD would stoop so low.
Halliday that creative graphics artist could create an authentic document on the internet. He examined the jpeg file, a photo taken in a dark place where phosphorescent flowers grew in a pool in a grotto. He had no idea of the significance of the flowers. He placed it back in the folder.
Laurel’s omniscience baffled him. How could a young woman, let alone a ghost, accomplish all that she had done? Her latest superhuman episode of caving alone beneath Genevive Labs—if it proved to be true—added to her mystery.
He felt an eerie presence. His thoughts reverted to the cornfields of the other night in Redwood Bluff. The afternoon breeze whisked through the trees.
He craned his neck, twisting it when, outside, a halo of green translucence swirled in the air. When he blinked it disappeared. Hairs raised on the nape of his neck.
Damn the optometrist’s prognosis. He would need to see a specialist.
A pinecone smashed into the windshield, jolting him. He wanted to believe that Laurel was neither a ghost nor a psychotic living human. Activities far beyond “illegal” seemed to be occurring at Genevive Labs. He was determined to get to the bottom of this even if the Santa Reina police department was owned by Genevive Labs.
From this point on, Laurel’s ghostly contributions aside, he would be totally alone.
Part Three
Deception
Chapter Nineteen
At 10:30 p.m. in his apartment Halliday grasped a sci-fi novel while he moved around on the sofa to avoid a broken spring.
His phone rang. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation.
“Detective John Halliday of the Santa Reina PD?”
The general public did not have access to his number. “That’s correct. What can I do for you?”
“My name is Special Agent Roger Coulter. I’m with the Department of Defense, DARPA, and Emerging Technologies. I’m on temporary assignment at Genevive Labs.”
The voice sounded familiar. It also sounded slurred, as if he had been drinking.
“The reason I’m calling, Detective Halliday, is in regards to security at Genevive Labs. First of all, I request you keep our conversation in strictest confidence.”
The black suited agent from the meadow this morning. “What’s this all about, Agent Coulter?”
“We understand that you are working a case involving a disgruntled ex-employee at Genevive.”
Disgruntled ex-employee? “Get to the point, Coulter.”
“The name is Laurel McKittrick… ah, deceased.”
“Miss McKittrick? She was an employee of Genevive Labs?”
Coulter had unveiled a new wrinkle.
“Yes, she held the position of executive secretary for CTO Wendell Jackson, prior to her dismissal. Executive VP Brad Palmier subsequently divorced her. I believe you are acquainted with Mr. Palmier.”
“Palmier didn’t mention anything about Miss McKittrick’s employment. What prompted her dismissal?�
��
“Security issues.”
“Can you elaborate?”
“It was in regards to theft of company confidential documents. Listen, Detective Halliday, the real issue here is the voicemail Miss McKittrick sent to you. It’s the potential damage she—I mean the perpetrators behind her resurgence—could have on Genevive Labs.”
Palmier had passed the voicemail file on to Coulter. “Why is DARPA so interested in security at Genevive Labs?”
“DARPA has a vested interest in Genevive Labs. They are a valued contractor. Genevive’s security is of vital importance to us. We don’t like to publicize it. DARPA have been conducting exercises throughout Genevive Labs’ land grant. It has to do with military applications that are of vital interest to national security. There’s a third party involved that may jeopardize that security.”
That last sentence brought Halliday on full alert.
“I’m sure you are aware of the bio-extremist demonstrations planned at Genevive. We have reason to believe that the group may be responsible for the bogus Laurel McKittrick voicemail you received. The demonstrations are no coincidence.”
Palmier had filled him in, too. “What proof do you have?”
“It’s confidential. I can’t provide you any details. This is more of a courtesy call than anything else. As far as the public is concerned our conversation tonight never occurred.”
Courtesy my ass. “What do you want from me, Agent Coulter?”
Halliday waited out the pause.
“Because of the Laurel McKittrick factor, Detective Halliday, I’m requesting that you refrain from pursuing your investigation. It will only muddy the water.”
“What authorization do you have to order me off this case?”
“First off, I’m not ordering you off any case. Besides, I don’t need authorization, detective.”
“I worked for U.S. Diplomatic Security for a few years. Don’t bullshit me, Coulter. You’re aware that you would need authorization to order a civilian policeman off a case. Now tell me, who do you report to?”
Transparency: Bio-Tech Cavern Secrets Untold Page 11
