Hot Springs Murder

by Wendy Meadows

  Sarah felt her heart break. She loved her best friend and wanted her to be happy. It hurt to see her dear friend’s dream shattered all over the floor in the form of a dead body. “I’m sorry, June Bug. I really am.”

  “So am I,” Amanda sighed. “But hey—I might still be able to buy this land—right?” she asked, in a weak, pale voice.

  “I don’t think your husband will allow it,” Sarah told Amanda in an apologetic voice. “Sorry, honey.”

  “You can’t blame a husband for protecting his wife, I guess,” Amanda replied, and offered a weak smile.

  Sarah patted Amanda’s hand, grew silent, and let her thoughts wander around a bit. After a couple of minutes, she asked, “Amanda, honey, did you see a lot of the Grayman’s while you were staying here?”

  “Oh—only for breakfast and dinner. Every morning and every evening, Mrs. Grayman would bring food—eggs, pancakes, coffee for breakfast—beans, cornbread, chicken and rice for dinner. Real wilderness food. Not that I minded. Mr. Grayman told me over the phone what types of food would be served. That was part of the charm—although maybe it should have also been a red flag. But did I pay attention? No.”

  “Stop kicking yourself, honey.”

  “Oh, I can’t help it,” Amanda nearly cried. “I turned a romantic week into a bothersome holiday for my hubby, and now, because of me, I’ve trapped us in a bear cave. I admit that my hubby had every right to complain—but near the end of our holiday, he admitted that the land made up for the lumpy beds and bad food. He actually smiled, if you can believe that. Before we left, I took a walk—alone—and really fell in love with the land. And the potential of what it could become. Then, when Mr. Grayman told me he was selling, my heart nearly came out of my chest.”

  Sarah patted Amanda’s hand again. “I’m sorry, honey. I really am.”

  “Be sorry for that poor old man, not me,” Amanda told Sarah, and wiped a tear from her eye. “He's the one that was killed.”

  “And we have to find out why,” Sarah reminded Amanda. “I’m still a cop—a retired cop—but a cop, nonetheless. I can’t turn my back on justice just because we’re in a tight squeeze. The last thing we need to do is act like two terrified, helpless women running through the woods tripping all over themselves. We need to be smart and stay smart. Whoever is outside is trying to push our panic button. Panic is the last path we need to run down.”

  “Maybe we should try the phone in the front room then?” Amanda asked, trying to find courage to replace her fear.

  “We can try, but my guess is the line has already been cut.” Sarah grabbed her gun. “Get your knife.”

  Amanda reluctantly took ownership of the butcher knife again and stood up. “Ready,” she said, and carefully followed Sarah back into the front room. Sarah made her way to the old desk and picked up a black telephone. “Dead?” Amanda asked.

  Sarah nodded her head. “No dial tone,” she said, and placed the phone down. “Maybe there’s an old CB radio around?” she asked, and looked back toward the hallway. “Maybe in the basement?”

  “Oh no—no basement for this lady,” Amanda objected. “I’m not going down into a dark basement and risk being murdered in a horrible underground lair. No ma’am.”

  Sarah bit down on her lower lip. “We have to find a way to reach the outside world,” she told Amanda. “I’ll go search the basement. You can stand guard up here.”

  Amanda fretted again. “Oh, Los Angeles, what are the chances you’ll find anything of use down in the basement? Please, don’t go—don’t leave me alone.”

  Sarah took Amanda’s hands. “Honey, we’re trapped, and we need to find a way to reach Conrad. The station back in Snow Falls has a CB radio. If I can find a CB radio here, we might have a chance.”

  Amanda knew Sarah was speaking the truth. She looked down at the butcher knife and then back up at Sarah. “Please hurry,” she begged.

  “I will,” Sarah promised. “Now, show me where the basement door is located.”

  As Amanda walked Sarah back into the hallway, a shadowy figure began draining all the gas from the jeep and the truck in the parking lot. “No one leaves,” the figure announced, and looked toward the entrance trail with sad eyes. “No one.”

  3

  Sarah pulled open a heavy wooden door. The door moaned and cried, it fought against being disturbed, but finally surrendered. “I don’t know how long I’ll be,” she told Amanda.

  Amanda peered past Sarah’s shoulder and looked down into a dark, cold hole. She watched her friend reach into the darkness and managed to find a light switch. A pale, weak light flashed on, the light from a single bulb hanging from a bare wire. “Are you sure about this?”

  “I'm sure,” Sarah promised. “I’m sure the Grayman’s wouldn’t risk being trapped here with only a telephone. Even if the phone line is underground, that doesn’t mean it can’t be damaged. An animal could dig up the line—a hard freeze could hinder it—anything. It would make sense that a man Mr. Grayman’s age would have a backup communication device somewhere—at least I hope so.”

  “Please hurry,” Amanda begged.

  “I will,” Sarah assured her scared friend. “We have the front and back door secured. If someone tries to enter that way, they'll knock over the chairs holding the pots. If you hear anything, yell out and I’ll come running.”

  “The doors may be secure, but what about the windows?” Amanda worried. “I know we checked every single lock, but still—oh, now this place is giving me the creeps.”

  Sarah felt pity rise in her heart. She patted Amanda's hand and made her way down a steep set of wooden steps that delved down into a cold, windowless, concrete basement. She paused at the bottom of the stairs and looked to the left and then to the right. The basement extended the length of the cabin and was filled with old boxes stacked here and there. “Please let there be a CB,” Sarah begged, and decided to check the right portion of the basement first. She walked over to a stack of three boxes and examined them. The boxes, to her curiosity, had a strange design on them. Under the design was a name, “Viral Green,” she read the name aloud.

  “Los Angeles, what is it?” Amanda called down.

  “I found a stack of boxes with a design and name written on them,” Sarah called back. “Viral Green is the name written on the boxes. The design looks like—a straight line with a—crooked 'Y' on it.”

  “Maybe the boxes belong to the research lab that once stood here?” Amanda asked.

  Why would the boxes be in this basement? Sarah asked herself, and then called up to Amanda, “Could be.” Sarah bent down, placed her gun in the ankle holster attached to her right ankle, and then carefully opened up the top box and looked inside. “Glass beakers,” she whispered. “Why would Mr. Grayman have glass beakers in his basement?”

  “Los Angeles?” Amanda called down again, “Where are you?”

  “I’m checking out one of the boxes,” Sarah called up to Amanda. “The box is full of glass beakers.”

  “Beakers?” Amanda asked. “Like in science experiment stuff?”

  “That’s right,” Sarah called out. “How are things up there?”

  “Silent,” Amanda said, and shivered all over. “I feel like a fly caught in a spider web—waiting for the spider to show up at any second.”

  “Stay brave, honey,” Sarah pleaded. She picked up a glass beaker and examined it in the weak light. “This beaker has been used,” she whispered, spotting a grimy green residue stuck to the inside of the glass. She placed the beaker to her nose, sniffed it, and then yanked the beaker away as if it had stung her. “Awful smell.”

  Sarah placed the beaker down and looked around. “I'm going to walk deeper into the basement. Hang tight.”

  “Hang tight,” Amanda mumbled under her breath. She leaned away from the basement door and studied the empty hallway. In her mind, she saw Mr. Grayman stand up in the kitchen, look in her direction with furious eyes, and let out a loud and creepy cry. “Stop it—stop it—s
top it, Amanda! You’re better than that,” Amanda scolded herself.

  Sarah didn’t hear Amanda chastising herself. She walked deeper into the basement and began investigating one box after another. Each box had the same design and name. Some boxes contained copper wiring and pipes. Other boxes contained more beakers and plastic tubing that looked like silly straws.

  When Sarah reached the back of the basement, she was shocked to find a small chemist laboratory setup, complete with a long table set up with what appeared to be a mad science experiment straight out of the movies. A wooden desk was shoved into the corner of the basement. Sarah headed straight over to the desk and checked the drawers. “Empty,” she said, in a disappointed voice. But her disappointment was short-lived. A small box sitting under the desk caught her attention. “What do we have here?” she asked. She bent down, pulled the box out, and sat it on the desk. “Let’s see.” Sarah opened the box and nearly fainted. Two glass tubes full of liquid material were resting in what appeared to be a miniature steel rack. Each tube had a large red “X” on it. A slot for a third tube was vacant. “Oh—my,” she whispered in a panicked voice and quickly backed away from the desk and ran back to the stairs. “Amanda!”

  “What’s wrong?” Amanda cried out.

  “I found some sort of a lab—and a box holding glass tubes full of a strange yellowish liquid. I’m not sure if the liquid is some kind of virus or not?”

  “Get out of the basement!”

  “I—” Sarah felt panic rise in her chest. She hadn’t located a CB, but feared the yellowish liquid she had found. “I’m coming back up!” she called out, forcing her mind to think rationally.

  Amanda heard Sarah running up the stairs. As soon as Sarah was safely back in the hallway, she slammed the basement door shut and locked it. “What in the world is going on?” she begged.

  “I think I might have an idea,” Sarah said, breathing hard. She pointed toward the kitchen. “I think Mr. Grayman was more than just a harmless old man making money off a hot springs.” Sarah reached down and retrieved her gun. “I think Mr. Grayman was a scientist—a virologist maybe?”

  “Oh boy,” Amanda replied. “Los Angeles, we have to get out of this place.”

  Before Sarah could say a word, a shadow appeared in the kitchen door. “You can’t leave,” a woman's voice announced. Amanda screamed and nearly fainted. Sarah spun around and aimed her gun at the figure. “I’m not your enemy.”

  “Get down!” Sarah yelled. “Now! Get down!”

  “Or what?” the woman asked. “Will you shoot me? Perhaps that would be a mercy.”

  “Down—now!” Sarah yelled again. Instead of obeying, the shadowy figure turned and walked back into the kitchen. Sarah looked at Amanda and ran down the hallway. When she reached the kitchen, she saw a very lovely woman wearing a red and brown flannel shirt that hung over a long gray skirt standing over Mr. Grayman. “Who are you?” she demanded, keeping her gun at the ready.

  “Nobody,” the woman responded in a sad voice. She slowly turned and looked at Sarah with teary eyes. “This man was once a very dear friend.”

  Sarah stared at the woman. She stared into a lovely face scarred with misery, or so it seemed. “Who are you?” she demanded again. “I want a name.”

  “My name is Noel McGee.”

  Amanda stepped up next to Sarah and saw a woman with long black hair looking down at her hands. The woman resembled a sagging puppet that would never smile again. “Did you kill Mr. Grayman?” she asked, trying to sound tough.

  “No,” Noel replied and raised her eyes—brilliant eyes that could easily deceive even the most skilled detective.

  “Then who did?” Sarah demanded. “I want answers.”

  “If you are told the truth, you will certainly die,” Noel promised Sarah. “Sadly—you could be dead already.”

  “What do you mean?” Amanda gasped.

  “The basement,” Sarah whispered. “Those tubes I found—that liquid—it’s a virus, isn’t it?”

  Noel nodded her head yes and spouted confusing, meandering phrases. “The basement is a grave.” It was as if she was playing a game rather than speaking about reality.

  Sarah felt her hands begin to shake. She had just begun a new life with Conrad and now she was being told her life was over. “What kind of virus is down there?” she asked.

  Noel looked down at the dead body lying at her feet. “The worst kind,” she whispered.

  “Please, give us answers,” Amanda begged. “I came here to buy this place and—”

  “You were brought here to be a carrier,” Noel interrupted Amanda. “You and your husband were both brought here to be carriers.”

  “I don’t understand!” Amanda begged. “I found this place on a website for crying out loud!”

  Noel nodded her head. “A deception,” she explained. “They had to stay hidden from the government.”

  “Who?” Amanda nearly screamed. “Who had to stay hidden?”

  “Viral Green,” Sarah whispered.

  “No,” Noel corrected Sarah. “Viral Green was once housed in this very location, but the government shut them down.”

  “Then who?” Sarah demanded.

  “In time, you will have your answers,” Noel replied. “Right now, the man who killed Mr. Grayman is still at large. He managed to escape just before I arrived.”

  “We didn’t pass anybody traveling up here,” Amanda pointed out. “There are only two vehicles in the parking lot and—”

  “There is a hidden trail that leads into this place,” Noel told Amanda. “You can travel the trail on motorbike or four-wheeler.”

  Sarah lowered her gun. “You—slashed the tires on my jeep and—cut down the tree we heard fall.”

  “Yes,” Noel admitted. “I also drained the gas out of each vehicle in the parking lot.”

  “Why?” Amanda snapped. “We need to—” Amanda stopped talking as her brain latched onto the obvious. “We could be sick—contagious—is that it?”

  “Yes,” Noel placed her hands behind her back. “I can’t risk anyone leaving—and that includes myself. We could all be infected and contagious.”

  “Could be?” Sarah asked.

  “There is always a chance we aren’t sick. There is a chance the man who killed Mr. Grayman didn’t release the virus.”

  “The third tube was missing,” Sarah whispered to herself.

  “The third tube was stolen,” Noel confirmed in a whispery voice that barely carried across the kitchen. “The virus has no smell. It can be altered into a mist and sprayed in the air.” Noel looked at Sarah. “If we are infected—we’ll know in the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours.”

  “Then what?” Amanda begged. “Do we die if we are infected?”

  “If we are infected with the virus—once it incubates within the bloodstream—we will all die within twenty-four hours,” Noel explained.

  Amanda broke out into tears. “Oh, Los Angeles,” she cried and hugged Sarah. Sarah fought back her own tears and wrapped her arms around Amanda.

  “I’m sorry,” Noel said, her voice sincere. “I tried to get here as quickly as I could—to stop him.”

  Confusion gripped Sarah’s mind. “That man’s wife—”

  “I’m afraid she managed to escape to Europe.”

  “Europe?” Amanda wiped at her tears. “But she was supposed to be going to Florida and—” Amanda kicked herself for being so naïve. “And I bought right into the lie.”

  Sarah slowly let go of Amanda. “You said Amanda and her husband were brought here to be carriers?” she asked. “Please, explain. Why didn’t they get sick on their first visit?”

  Noel walked to the kitchen table and sat down. “There is a secret terrorist group at work, ladies,” she explained. “The terrorist group known only as White Cell is housed all over the world. We don’t know how many people belong to the group and who they really are—they are a secret society named after the white blood cells in the body. Why? Nobody know
s.” Noel looked down at her hands and continued. “Twenty years ago, when I was just beginning my training as a virologist, I came under the care of Dr. Grayman. I was assigned to this very location as an employee of Viral Green.”

  Sarah eased into the kitchen with Amanda. “Keep talking.”

  Noel nodded her head. “Dr. Grayman was a very brilliant virologist until—sadly, he went against the policies of Viral Green, which, at the time, was being funded and managed by a secret government agency hidden inside of the CDC.” Noel shook her head. “I was the person who contacted my supervisor and told her that Dr. Grayman was conducting unauthorized experiments. Dr. Grayman found out. He tried to kill me, but I managed to escape. He vanished into thin air before he could be captured.” Noel looked at Sarah. “He vanished with a great deal of supplies, research papers—and viruses.”

  “Why in the world did he come back here?” Amanda asked.

  “Viral Green tore down the compound and closed up shop. Only this cabin was left standing. This location would be the last place anyone would look for Dr. Grayman. Of course, his real name isn’t Grayman. His real name is Werner Kraus. I’m simply calling him by the name you know.”

  “Let’s call him by his real name,” Sarah ordered Noel.

  “Very well.”

  Sarah felt her temper flare. “So, who are you? Who do you work for? I want answers.”

  “I want to know if my husband is infected!” Amanda yelled. “You said we were brought here to become carriers!”

  “Your husband is not infected,” Noel promised Amanda. “Dr. Grayman—Kraus—backed out at the last minute. That’s why he was killed. He couldn’t go through with the orders given to him by someone in the White Cell.”