Transparency: Bio-Tech Cavern Secrets Untold (11 page)

Santa Reina Hot Springs Resort touched the rear border of Genevive Labs. Beyond that they had no connection as far as Halliday knew. Across the street a public spa attracted students from Santa Reina Community College. A sign on the locked gate read “SPA CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE,” in big red letters.

Since the Santa Reina PD had held a retreat here last summer Halliday knew his way around. The ten acre wooded property sat above a natural hot springs. Single story cabanas with spas in the master bedrooms, fed from the hot springs, surrounded a huge climate controlled glass atrium. A group of talkative parrots hopped around amid exotic plants in the oasis.

People flocked to the atrium restaurant, “Tropical Pines,” during the winter to watch the snow fall outside while sipping on mai tais beneath palm fronds.

Halliday stood in the knotty pined lobby. A large oil mural of one of the California missions hung above the huge rock fireplace. Two smiling receptionists wearing red blouses over white skirts adorned the front desk like cherries atop cheese cake. One of them directed Halliday, pointing out the office where Laurel McKittrick had worked during her employment.

He found the spa manager, a cordial auburn-haired woman in her late twenties seated at her desk in a private office at the end of the hallway.

Jillian Andrews didn’t have Laurel’s drop-dead beauty. Halliday found her complete calm to be very settling. The blond haired woman appeared mature beyond her years. She wore glasses set in a round face with freckled cheeks and large blue eyes. When he mentioned Laurel’s name her eyes lit up.

“Laurel was such a vibrant soul,” Jillian said.

“Yes, I understand she was an energetic young lady,” he said. “Someone broke into her home in Paso Robles before the estate sale. They stole among other things, her canoe.”

Jillian’s brows lifted either from surprise or that she knew Laurel’s canoe hadn’t been stolen.

“It was worth more to her than a Mercedes,” she said, as if describing the importance of Moses’ staff.

“Did she own a Mercedes?”

“Laurel? I don’t think I ever saw her drive a car. She bicycled everywhere. That girl was so into nature.”

Halliday was getting a picture of Laurel McKittrick as a gregarious and active girl. A free spirit. So why did she marry the always-in-control Brad Palmier? “What was her address before she married?”

“Laurel stayed here. We have some studio apartments out back. Occasionally, I rent them out to workers. There’s no public transportation out this way except to Genevive Labs, of course.”

So far, Jillian was the strongest link to Laurel. “When’s the last time you saw Laurel?”

“I saw her once after the divorce. She dropped by to ask directions to a hot spring up in Sonoma County. We had discussed it before. I gave her the address.”

Halliday waited as Jillian appeared to have another thought.

“Curious, now that I think of it. She wanted to know if I knew of any natural caves here in the area around our hot springs.”

“Are there?”

“I told her as far as I knew there were none. Even if there were any caves in this area they would be on Genevive Labs’ property, off limits to
normal
people.”

Jillian’s expression conveyed a mild annoyance.

“At the time I didn’t know about Laurel’s interest in caving. She valued her privacy. The tragedy in the New Mexico cave, well...”

She swallowed hard.

Halliday said, “Yes, it was a terrible tragedy.”

Jillian swiveled the monitor so he could see Laurel’s blog photo. She said, “I wasn’t aware of Laurel’s caving blog until before her disappearance.”

“Is this a good likeness of her?”

“Oh yes, it’s perfect,” she said, as if viewing the Mona Lisa.

“Jillian, do you still have the address of the Sonoma hot spring?”

“Yes, but I don’t believe she ever made it there. She visited us right before her New Mexico trip.”

She pulled a card out of an old Rolodex file. “Let me make a copy of the address for you.”

“Did Laurel leave a forwarding address when she left here?”

Jillian reached behind to the copy machine. “She moved into Palmier’s Sierra Chalet apartment after they married.”

She turned back. Regarded him with skepticism, she said, “Detective Halliday, your visit has to do with more than a stolen canoe, doesn’t it?”

“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.”

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 located 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 31
st
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.