Read All The Beautiful People (A Dread Novel Book 1) Online
Authors: Jonathan Yanez
The speed in which the support crew arrived told Taylor they were already prepped for the incident. More than likely they were already on their way, prior to her call. In a matter of minutes, three black SUVs pulled into the Jones’ driveway. No lights or sirens heralded their visit. Tinted windows hid the car’s occupants until they exited the vehicles. Taylor watched them approach from the second story window.
She instructed Mrs. Jones to greet them at the door while she remained upstairs. Against all reason, James Jones continued to struggle against his bonds, flopping on the floor like a fish out of water. Despite the blood loss and the multiple concussions at Taylor’s hands, he refused to lie still. He persisted in his incoherent mumbling while Taylor pinned him to the floor. Her right boot secured his lower back to the study’s carpet.
“Why?” he said, clearly enough for her to hear. “Why wouldn’t you want my gift of freedom? The darkness that lives inside us all is begging to be released.”
“Thanks for offering the impromptu plastic surgery, though I’ll have to pass. I like my face arranged how it is.”
Her comment didn’t faze her prisoner, who continued to ramble on about beauty and darkness.
Seconds after the SUVs arrived, car doors slammed and an army of medics, investigators, and even a psychiatrist, all on the company’s payroll, entered the house.
They really pulled out all the stops for this one,
Taylor thought.
Footsteps on the stairwell preceded the office door opening and a familiar face poked through. Despite his youthful appearance, Wade Treadstone was a senior member of Lazarus Pharmaceuticals. He handled public relations for the company and headed her own department. Outside of tonight, Taylor had only seen him a handful of times at the office, never outside the Lazarus Pharmaceutical buildings.
“Taylor,” he said with a wide smile.
Men and women in black suits and sterilized medical uniforms entered the room behind him.
“Mr. Treadstone, I wasn’t aware you handled cases in the field.”
“Please call me, Wade.” He motioned to James Jones’ struggling form on the floor beneath Taylor’s boot. “Reliable as always. Did he put up much of a fight?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Wade’s team wasted no time in containing the situation. Lights were found and flipped, two large men in suits relieved Taylor’s vigil on her prisoner, and a medical team began their examination on the secured subject.
“You’re sure no bodily fluids came in contact with you?”
“No. I anticipated that may be an issue so I handled him at a distance. What exactly are we dealing with here?”
Wade scratched the stubble on his jaw. His eyes traveled from his team working in the study to Taylor. “You know as much as I do. You’ve handled these calls in the past. The medical team will let us know exactly what it is. Probably an overdose or a cocktail of the wrong medications.”
Taylor bit her tongue. In the last two years she had worked for Lazarus Pharmaceuticals, nothing like this had ever happened. In the years she spent working for big corporations and government agencies, nothing like this ever even came close. Sure, there were always drugged-up maniacs. Overdosing on pills messed with people’s minds, but this was somehow different, darker.
“We’ll need a full report. As soon as possible,” Wade said. “Taylor, I trust I don’t have to remind you that our company values discretion above all else.”
Something in his tone threw warning flags in Taylor’s mind. Everything was off about the night so far. The edge in Wade’s voice only confirmed her suspicions.
“Of course, sir. That’s why you pay me so well.”
Wade smiled as Taylor knew he would. People in position of power always enjoyed the mention of money. Their religion told them if someone could be bought, they could be trusted.
“Good, I knew you were the right person for the job,” Wade stated. “Despite the late hour, however, I’d like you to get checked out by our medical team tonight. To be on the safe side.”
“Of course.”
Taylor’s eyes shifted to the rest of Wade’s team. Three men were holding James Jones in a chair. He was secured now with handcuffs and a mask that brought to mind images of Hannibal Lecter. A fourth member of the team injected what Taylor assumed was a sedative into his right arm. Two more men stood nearby ready to jump in if their captive’s constant struggling became too much. The idea of six large employees all restraining a single man past his prime was almost comical…almost.
James Jones was beyond words now, gnashing his teeth. The repetitive motion of his enamel striking each other made a disturbing clicking sound. He struggled with every ounce of his strength to rise from the chair.
“Perfect,” Wade said, motioning Taylor out of the room. “There’s a car waiting for you downstairs that will take you to the office.”
Taylor raised an eyebrow.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to insist,” Wade said with a smile. “I’ll have someone drive your car to the medical wing. Once you’re cleared, it will be waiting for you.”
Despite the minimal interaction with Wade Treadstone in the past, Taylor knew his type. Arguing the point would get her nowhere.
“That’s fine,” she said without missing a beat. “I’ll just need to grab my notebook.”
Lazarus Pharmaceuticals was the largest and most respected distributor of prescription medication in the world. Specializing in the newest cutting edge drugs, their main office was located in Los Angeles, California. The office was only thirty minutes from the Jones’ household. Her driver wasn’t the talkative type. That was fine with Taylor; she had enough on her mind without the empty banter most company chauffeurs insisted on.
She sat in the cushioned black leather seat with her notebook opened on her lap. She worked best when she could write down her thoughts. Ever since she was a child, Taylor kept a pen and paper close. For the first time in a very long time, she didn’t know what to put down. Sure, there were the normal housekeeping items like time, location, names, but these facts were already written. What she needed now were words for what she’d witnessed.
Calling James Jones crazy or drugged didn’t do the event justice. She filled the gap of time her brain needed to process the correct words by writing down and circling the drug’s title:
Vanidrum
.
It was impossible to pen what she felt. She needed more time to process. Taylor’s hand hovered over the page for a second, then she wrote down one more word and closed her notebook:
Darkness
.
The company’s headquarters were located on a square mile of land. Multiple gates and guard checkpoints stopped her driver as they approached the medical research wing. Each time, they were waved through with minimal delay.
Soon the black SUV pulled to a stop at a side entrance. Taylor exited the vehicle and headed inside. As she walked to the front door, she noticed the driver didn’t pull away until he was sure she entered the building.
“Well, hello there,” a friendly female technician in a long white lab coat said. “You must be Taylor. We were called and told to be waiting for you.”
Taylor stifled a yawn. “Yep, that’s me.”
“Great,” the woman said with a large smile uncommon for the late hour. “If you’d be so kind as to follow me, we’ll get you checked out as fast as we can and have you on your way.”
“Sounds good.”
Taylor followed her down a white-tiled hall, lit by bright florescent lights. Even at this hour the medical wing was as busy as ever. A corporation as large as Lazarus Pharmaceuticals operated around the clock.
Soon the lab technician ushered Taylor into a large room equipped with every kind of medical device she could imagine and more she couldn’t. The scent of hydrogen peroxide was thick in the air. Taylor wrinkled her nose on instinct as the fumes caught her by surprise.
“Oh, and I’ve been so rude. My name is Jean. Please take a seat,” the lab tech said, motioning to a large padded table covered in thin tissue paper.
Taylor complied without hesitation. The lab tech started her examination. “This will be quick and we’ll get you on your way. Mr. Treadstone ordered a full panel as fast as possible. With the technology at our disposal, it won’t take long. If you can remove your jacket, we’ll start with a blood sample.”
Taylor shrugged off the brown leather jacket that felt like a second skin to her and extended her right arm. Jean was efficient at her job. In a matter of minutes she had removed two vials of blood, swabbed Taylor’s mouth with a cotton tip, and called an attendant to pick up the samples.
“Great,” Jean said with another smile. “I’ll need to take a look at your eyes, ears, and throat. Once that is done we’ll see the results of your test and you’ll be good to go. How are you feeling?”
Taylor shrugged and stifled yet another yawn. “Besides tired I feel fine.” Given Jean’s youthfulness and cheerful disposition, Taylor decided to push the conversation toward events of that night. There was no way the young lab tech could know what happened. Still, she might be able to shed some light on the situation. “You said Mr. Treadstone ordered a full panel of tests as soon as possible?”
“He sure did,” Jean said, peering through a silver hand tool and into Taylor’s left ear.
“Is that normal for someone like me? I’ve never had to do this.”
Jean jotted notes on an open folder. “What do you mean by ‘someone like you?’”
Taylor raised her eyebrows. Apparently Jean knew less than even Taylor. Wise on Wade Treadstone’s part, not letting his right hand know what the left was doing. Taylor didn’t skip a beat.
“I mean a normal, everyday employee like me.”
“No, I guess not.” Jean stopped briefly to think before going back to work. Using a similar instrument she flashed a light in Taylor’s eyes and leaned in to examine her pupils.
“What tests were ordered with my blood and saliva?”
“Pretty much everything,” Jean responded, sticking a wooden depressor against Taylor's tongue and flashing another light down her throat. “Oh, I get it, nerves kicking in, right? Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re fine. There’s nothing to be concerned about. You’re as healthy as anyone I’ve seen. You must work out. What’s your secret? Yoga? Pilates?”
“I get so nervous about these things,” Taylor lied. “Thanks for the compliment. I try to get as much exercise in as I can.”
“So far everything looks great. If you’ll wait here for a minute I’ll go check on those blood and saliva reports.”
Taylor nodded and was soon left alone to replay the night’s events in her head. She had handled dozens of similar cases. In every instance a large corporation had something to hide, they were willing to pay people by the truckload to brush their messes under the rug. Taylor had no problem admitting to herself what she did for a living. She was paid to clean up messes prior to them making their way to the authorities or worse, the tabloids.
She was personally responsible for keeping the pin in more than a few hand grenades that would have torn large companies to pieces. For her current employer, she handled situations ranging from overdoses to faulty medication. Taylor estimated she saved Lazarus Pharmaceuticals millions of dollars in lawsuits and recalls over the years. Not to mention keeping their spotless track record intact.
Despite all of this, for some reason, tonight bothered her. Maybe it was the look of pure madness in James Jones’ eyes. Perhaps it was the way he wouldn’t stay down after numerous blows that would have sent men twice his size into a coma.
“Vanidrum,” Taylor whispered out loud. Vanidrum was what he had started taking when the madness began. That was the connection. It was more than coincidence. Vanidrum was Lazarus Pharmaceuticals’ largest success in history. People were waiting in line at their doctor’s offices to be prescribed the mood-altering drug.
Dots began to connect in Taylor’s mind. A light knocking on the door interrupted her. She looked up to see a smiling Jean holding her bloodwork. “I told you it would be fast. As promised, a clean bill of health. Mr. Treadstone said you are free to go and wanted me to remind you that a full report is due first thing in the morning.”
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP
Is that my alarm or an air raid?
Taylor thought to herself.
For all that is holy what I wouldn’t give for another five minutes
.
She reached out with her left arm in a blind flailing motion, swiping her arm through the air in a wild, half-conscious attempt to stop the incessant noise. She got lucky on her third try and hit the snooze button. Her joy at the silence didn’t last long. Responsibility and the events of the previous night brought her out of bed.
Faint memories of a nightmare encroached the edges of her consciousness. The more she tried to remember it, the further it faded into oblivion. The events from her dreams and the incident from the night most recently passed were so closely related, she was having trouble telling one from the other.
Taylor soon disregarded her current train of thought for a shower. The shower’s steaming water did its best to fight the weariness from her bones and comfort her troubled mind. While it helped, nothing would solve the dilemma of needing more sleep or chase away the images from the previous night.
Her choice of clothing was similar as every other day; boots, jeans, plain tee, and her brown leather jacket. Hair falling in every direction but where it should, she wandered into the kitchen for whatever she could put in her stomach in a hurry.
Fifteen minutes and a cold Pop-Tart later, Taylor found herself pulling into Lazarus Pharmaceuticals’ main entrance. Unlike the previous night where her driver took her to the medical wing of the facility, Taylor headed for the main entrance. Parking was always a zoo and usually involved more than a few minutes maneuvering around row after row of expensive cars. Taylor’s usual plan was simple: park far and walk.
Walking was good. It would give her time to think about what exactly she was going to put in her report. Wade Treadstone would want very specific details on what happened. What
did
happen?
As Taylor traversed the pavement to the building’s large glass doors, she was no closer to getting an answer than when she started. The two things she kept going back to were the name Vanidrum and the fact that Mr. Jones wouldn’t stay down no matter how hard she hit him. The memory of his clicking teeth echoed in her mind.
Employees in white lab coats and business suits walked to and from the doors. Taylor didn’t recognize any of them, nor did she expect to. Her job as a Cleaner meant she rarely visited the office. Her special skillset was only called on every few months. When Taylor was needed, her Operator would get in contact with her, she would resolve the issue in a discreet manner and visit the office to file a report.
In the nearly two years she’d worked for the company, her Operator had only called on her a total of eight times. Her job was to be ready whenever they had a situation and handle it.
Taylor’s thoughts on the looming report were soon lost as she entered the main building. An energetic young female voice welcomed her with a pre-recorded message. Any other day Taylor wouldn’t think twice about the generic commercial. The advertisement followed the events on moving slides projected on the building’s far wall. Today Taylor stopped in her tracks at the mention of the word “Vanidrum.”
“Lazarus Pharmaceuticals has been the leading name in prescription medication for the last four decades. With our talented team of scientists and using the latest equipment technology has to offer, we continue our proud tradition of groundbreaking medication by introducing Vanidrum.”
Taylor realized she was standing rigid in the middle of a lobby teeming with people busy to be about their way, her back stiff. She didn’t care. Security guards eyeing her, she stood anyway, refusing to miss a word. The slides continued to pass over the wall showing scenes of working lab-coated technicians, the manufacturing of hundreds of tiny red pills, and smiling men and women tossing the drug down their throats.
“Vanidrum is one-of-a-kind. Scientists at Lazarus Pharmaceuticals are now able to provide the assistance our customers deserve. Each and every one of you are perfect inside and out. Why not feel that way? Everyone should be entitled to be perceived as they desire. Whether it’s the external or the internal, complexion or anxiety, Vanidrum can help. Vanidrum targets the part of your brain that deals with inner happiness. Within a few weeks, realize pure joy. Ask your doctor today if Vanidrum is right for you.”
The woman’s voice stopped talking and one last slide hovered over the wall. It was a picture of an average looking woman with a huge smile plastered on her face. In her right hand she held a mirror. The reflection that stared back at her was clearly someone else. The woman in the reflection had undergone hours of makeup work and had obviously been touched up by Photoshop. The likeness looked like a movie star ready to walk the red carpet.
Taylor raised an eyebrow. There were a multitude of possibilities of what could have gone wrong with Mr. Jones. However, if Taylor followed her gut instinct, she would put her money on Vanidrum. The exact details evaded her but it wasn’t her job to theorize.
It’s not your job to play Sherlock Holmes,
Taylor reminded herself as she started moving toward the lobby’s main desk.
You handle the mess when it comes, that’s it.
Taylor stopped at a large semi-circular steel reception booth where two attendants smiled with perfect white teeth.
“May I help you?” one of them asked.
“Yes.” Taylor reached into her pocket and handed a Lazarus Pharmaceuticals ID card to the woman. “I’m a field tech, here to make a report.”
The woman nodded as she entered Taylor’s ID card information into the computer. “Here you are, Mrs. Hart.”
“It’s Miss.”
“Excuse me?”
“You said Mrs. I’m not married so it’s just Miss.”
The attendant blushed. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Taylor shrugged as she accepted her card over the counter. “That’s okay. I’m not.”