Deadly Payload (Rim Country Mysteries Book 4)

by Karen Randau

  Katy added that she wanted to bring her daughter Neri home from Tucson now that Travis was better. “We need to get back to our homeschooling. There are rules about the number of hours we put in.”

  I asked her to give me two more days before she left the hospital for Tucson. “I need to work with Mary’s brother David to find out where authorities found an infected cow. Then David will test the dirt. Taylor seemed to think that was important.”

  When I repeated Taylor’s warning to check everyone’s IDs and the labels on any medications, Katy trembled and leaned against the bathroom’s sink.

  “What have we gotten into?” She rubbed her arm as if to calm herself. “Why are they guarding Mary, Travis, and Cliff? Is Neri in danger? My parents? Us?” She gestured toward the door. “Does that guard in the hall mean we’re prisoners in this hospital suite?”

  I wrapped my arms around her and reminded her that the guard was there because someone tried to attack Cliff last night. “I’ll find out what’s going on and what we’re up against.”

  Her creased forehead and questioning stare looked skeptical, concerned, and confused at the same time.

  I cupped my palms around her jaw. “If the guard lets me leave in a few minutes, we’ll know we aren’t prisoners. I can’t imagine why we would be. With the police officer out there in the hallway, I believe you, Travis, and Cliff are safe.”

  “What about you if you leave the hospital? Will you be safe driving alone? Or by yourself in the house?”

  “David and I will stick together.” I made a mental note to invite David and Emma to stay with me because of my advanced security system.

  Katy’s stomach growled. She slid her hand over it. “I’m hungry. I don’t remember when I last ate. Have you tried the cafeteria food? It’s gross.”

  I grasped the doorknob. “No, I haven’t tried the food. I saw a Whole Foods Market around the corner when we first got here. Before I leave, I’ll go there and bring you something healthy to eat.”

  Her eyes brightened as she named items for me to buy.

  I opened the bathroom door, surprised to see Cliff standing in front of me in his hospital gown and bare feet, his hand on the rolling pole that held his IV.

  “What are you two doing in the bathroom?” he asked.

  “We thought you were asleep and didn’t want to disturb you,” I said. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  He gestured for Katy and me to step aside. “Gotta go.”

  Filled with delight over Cliff’s progress since last night, I helped Katy arrange the guest chairs next to Cliff’s bed and continued our conversation while he used the facilities.

  “I will go see if I can talk to Mary,” I said. “Mostly, I just want to see her, but she might also shed more light on the things I’ve discovered through my research and what you overheard her say.”

  When Cliff returned to his bed, I asked how he felt. He held the back of his gown closed, climbed into bed, and said he felt more like himself. “Whatever they’re using on me now is making a huge difference. Maybe I can go home tomorrow.”

  “Let’s not rush it,” I said with a laugh so strong it must have revealed the heavy burden his words had lifted. “They said you’d be here two weeks, not two days.”

  I told him my plan to go back to Rim Vista with David, find the spot at the reservoir where they found the cow, and test the dirt.

  He caressed my hand. “I should be the one doing this. I’m the police detective.”

  “I’m the private investigator,” I said. “If I weren’t your wife, you’d be sending me to do this.”

  His smile and the way he stroked my hand warmed my heart.

  “I know you will do it anyway, so I won’t try to stop you. Be careful. Since you will drive those forest roads again, you need to stop off and buy a spare tire.” He found a pad of paper in the nightstand drawer and jotted down the type of tire I should buy. “Where’s my phone? I want to let the chief know what you’re doing.”

  “No,” I said. “He’s busy and tired. Almost everyone in the department got sick. Also, things haven’t felt right in Rim Vista since the outbreak, and for more reasons than illness. I’m afraid the authorities are restricting the information they give to our local law enforcement. What if they’re monitoring their phone calls? If I find something that will convince Ronald the government is keeping our community in the dark about the potential danger we’re in, I’ll visit him personally.”

  A nurse entered the room carrying two bags of clear liquid. I checked her credentials and the medicine. As I moved to the closet to get Cliff’s phone from the plastic bag containing his belongings, the nurse checked vitals on both Travis and Cliff and changed their IV bags.

  The pleased look on her face lifted my spirits higher.

  When she left, Cliff, Katy, and I agreed on our plan to stay fed, safe, and informed.

  My phone buzzed, alerting me to a call from David. He said he sent me an email attachment containing the photo of the dead cow on the banks of the reservoir. I told him my plan to go to the reservoir to find the spot.

  “I think we should stay together,” I said. “I have errands to run and want to visit with Mary for a few minutes, but I was thinking we could meet at the entrance to Fishhook Trail in two hours and stay together while we find the right spot at the reservoir.”

  He agreed.

  “Do you own a gun?” I asked.

  “Of course, but I don’t have it with me. Do you?”

  “Yes. I keep it with me most of the time.”

  We finished our call, and I collected my belongings. As I left the room, the guard, a muscle-bound man named Officer Lopez, tried to tell me to stay inside where I was safer.

  “I’m going home for a day or two,” I said. “I need to get clothes for bringing my husband home. I’ll be back soon to bring my daughter-in-law some healthy food to eat.”

  Lopez stepped aside and let me pass. I gave Katy a reassuring glance. At least we weren’t prisoners.

  27

  I turned right from Cliff’s room and walked to the end of an eight-foot-wide hospital corridor with a buffed floor. An arrow pointed left toward the ICU.

  Entering a room with twenty patient bays covered with beige curtains, I spotted the nurses’ station in the center. There, a rail-thin woman in purple scrubs sat with her elbow on a laminate desk, her chin resting in her palm as she read.

  She ignored me until I tapped my fingernails on the speckled counter that separated her from me.

  “May I help you?” She narrowed her bloodshot eyes under the fluorescent light.

  “I’m here to visit Mary Zagby,” I said.

  “Your name?” She fluffed the back of her short, dark hair and waited for my answer.

  “Rita Avery.”

  She tapped on her keyboard, squinted at the screen, and shaded her eyes from the light. With a nail-bitten finger, she gestured toward a tall, mid-thirties police officer sporting a short buzz cut. He folded his ebony arms across his chest in front of a closed curtain two patient bays down.

  “Five minutes only,” the nurse cautioned. “Mary needs her rest.”

  The officer uncrossed his arms as I approached. His nametag identified him as Officer Quaid.

  “Hi.” I hoped my smile and friendly tone would keep him from turning me away. “I’m Rita Avery, and I’m here to see Mary. She’s my neighbor and a dear friend.”

  He lifted an eyebrow and looked at the nurse.

  She nodded and gave a thumbs-up before returning to her reading.

  Officer Quaid opened the curtain, let me pass, and left a three-inch gap when he closed it. He stood outside the bay facing us, his legs shoulder width apart and the muscles in his arms bulging as he folded them across his chest. I wished he’d smile but gave up and turned toward Mary.

  Dark circles surrounded Mary’s closed eyes. Her lips and cheeks looked too pale. An IV tube protruded from her chest, an oxygen tube from her nose. Chords attached her chest and finge
rs to buzzing and beeping monitors on both sides of her railed bed.

  When I stroked her hand, she opened her eyes and gave me the grin I craved.

  “You look better,” I lied. “How do you feel?”

  “Stronger. More fog has lifted from my brain. The doctor says he might be able to help me recover with medication, diet, and lots of different therapies. I need to get through this for Emma’s sake.” Despite her smile, a tear rolled down the side of her face. “They say I’m a drug addict, but I’ve never taken drugs.”

  I squeezed her hand. “Do you have friends who have given you anything?”

  “A doctor visits me. He gives me a shot that helps me sleep.”

  “What’s his name?”

  She shrugged. “He told me to call him Friend.”

  Unsure of what to say, I tried to remain positive. “I’m so glad the doctor has high hopes for you, but I’m even happier to learn you’re determined to recover. You’re right when you say Emma needs you. I’ve been looking into the incident in Afghanistan. Did you realize Major Park described the events differently than you did?”

  “That’s why I couldn’t get any help,” she whispered. “I suspect Park convinced Colonel Brandish to go out there, so he’d die. I was collateral damage.”

  “Why do you assume that? Wasn’t Brandish the commanding officer? Couldn’t he have insisted that another soldier go with you?”

  “Yes, but Park told Brandish the Afghan woman wanted to talk to him. When I questioned her, she said she asked for a female officer. That would have been me, not Brandish. Someone always accompanied me when I left base, but Park lied. That makes me suspicious.”

  She explained why the Army sent her to Afghanistan. Besides being a nurse, they taught her the language and trained her on how to make Afghan women feel comfortable when she needed to question them.

  “It wasn’t until the Afghan woman and Brandish stepped close to the cow that it exploded. They died, and I was injured. As villagers rushed out to help me, a drone sprayed us with a green liquid that smelled sweet. It was like a pine-scented cleaner my grandmother used to use.”

  A memory sparked alarm. The produce I bought at the farmer’s market smelled like sweet pine. I forced myself to focus on this conversation rather than the blueberries in my refrigerator at home.

  “Did someone detonate the bomb remotely?”

  “Yes.” She closed her eyes and yawned.

  “How much time passed between the explosion and the drone showing up?” I hoped Mary wouldn’t fall asleep before I got all the information I needed to move my investigation forward.

  “A minute.” She nestled her head deeper into the pillow

  “If you were talking to the Afghan woman, why weren’t you close enough to also die?”

  Her eyes snapped open, a sign she hadn’t yet wondered that. She drew her eyebrows together and squinted as if thinking. “I got a call. I stepped away a few feet because Brandish and the woman were talking too loud, and he talked quietly.”

  “Who was on the phone with you?”

  “Captain Jason Wall.”

  “Did you say Wall and Park found you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where were you after the explosion?”

  “The villagers hid me. I’m unsure where I was. They took care of me for a few days, and then someone brought Wall and Park to me. But…”

  She paused with her eyes shut, the eyeballs moving under her lids as if she watched a movie.

  “After Park put me into the Humvee, Wall said I had a baby. He sounded like he was pleading with Park to give me something. Then Park said, ‘It won’t make any difference.’ There was a gunshot. Park pulled Wall in beside me and raced away. It seemed like another strike. Park took Wall and me to the base hospital. Wall was already dead.”

  She opened her eyes. “That’s all I can remember right now.” She turned to her side and folded her hands under her face.

  Did I miss Wall’s death in Park’s report? Was it even there? Or was it censored? I made a mental note to read the report again, but I needed Mary to stay awake a few seconds longer.

  “What happened to the villagers who got sprayed with the green liquid from the drone?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. It took a few more days before I got food poisoning in the hospital. As I’ve pondered it, I assume the green spray made me sick. You should check to see if the villagers also got ill.” She yawned. “I’m sleepy.”

  From behind the closed curtain, the nurse said, “Time’s up.”

  “Okay,” I said to the nurse. I leaned closer to Mary and whispered, “David and I are going back to Rim Vista in two hours. We’ll come back in a day or two.”

  “He told me. He said his Iraqi employee is returning to work, and he might be gone longer than two days. He wants to keep an eye on the guy.” The last part of her sentence trailed off.

  I turned and met the deep brown eyes of Officer Quaid.

  He glanced at the nurse, who had returned to her reading behind the enclosed counter. “I’d be careful if I were you,” he said in a quiet tone. “From the conversations I’ve overheard, it sounds like this woman is a loose end in that skirmish you talked about.” He opened the curtain. “She’s a war hero. I presume I’m guarding her because she knows too much. She’s talked about a PI friend. Is that you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m a Marine and served in the Middle East. You and that scared CDC lady find out what happened to this soldier.” He stepped aside.

  “Taylor Finnegan?”

  “Yeah. That was her name. Something has her spooked.”

  “I’m doing everything I can.” I left the bay.

  “Don’t get yourself killed in the process.” He pulled the curtain closed.

  “I’ll try.” I rushed away, now unable to keep my thoughts off the pine-scented produce I bought at the farmer’s market before everyone got sick.

  As was my custom, I washed the fruits and vegetables right after buying them from the Hawthorne Farms booth. Everyone got sick a few days later. The morning the water got nasty, I gave the blueberries to Cliff and Travis for breakfast. Neri wanted strawberries, but I only had frozen. I mentioned that if I saved enough blueberries, I could put them in pancakes the next morning. That was why Neri, Katy, and I ate the frozen strawberries.

  We didn’t get sick.

  I had thought the water made Cliff and Travis ill, along with a lot of other people.

  Did I poison my husband and son by giving them blueberries I lovingly chose from an organic produce booth at last week’s farmer’s market?

  Would my family ever forgive me?

  Would I forgive myself if they didn’t make it through this?

  What kind of low-life would do something this awful to us? A burst of anger consumed my oxygen.

  I had to get out of that hospital and out into the fresh air.

  28

  I ran through the hospital’s shiny corridors, out the revolving glass door, around the front circular driveway, and down the steps toward the Jeep.

  With each step, my self-accusations got stronger, eclipsed by the anger that boiled inside me.

  Someone used me to poison my family. Both Officer Quaid and I recognized fear in Taylor, and I now had no way of contacting her. Who had done this to us?

  In the parking lot, my purse slid from my shoulder and toppled to the asphalt between a red Toyota and a white Ford. A tube of lipstick, my wallet, and an endless supply of pens spilled out. As I scooped my belongings into my purse, the backpack fell from my other shoulder.

  The expletives I shouted didn’t make me feel better. Did the backpack land so hard that my computer broke? I needed it to help Cliff, Travis, Mary, Taylor… my whole town.

  I told myself to calm down. How could I? I gave my family the poisoned produce. Who did I blame more? Myself for not washing the produce better? The low-life who poisoned our food? The CDC for not already having a cure?

  All of us!


  Hitching the backpack on one shoulder and the purse on the other, I forced myself to walk, not run, to the Jeep. I focused on taking deep breaths, blowing them out to a slow and steady beat, and admiring the cloudless blue sky.

  I leaned against the Jeep to remind myself that I couldn’t have known the blueberries I chose for my family at the farmer’s market contained the pathogen that put Travis and Cliff in this hospital.

  Did Hawthorne Farms realize drones tainted their produce? I doubted it. I needed to warn them. What about other farmers in the area, the ones whose booths I didn’t visit? Did Taylor and the CDC know?

  A plan formed.

  While traveling to the Rim Vista reservoir, David and I also needed to visit Hawthorne Farms.

  First, I needed a new spare tire. Cliff told me what to buy, not where. I fished through my purse for my phone. Google could help me find a store near the hospital.

  Where was my cell?

  I hurried back to the red Toyota and white Ford where I dropped everything. My favorite fine point gel pen peeked out from under the Toyota. I sank to my hands and knees, saw the phone under the Toyota, and lowered to my stomach to stretch toward it. Before rising, I glanced under the Ford.

  My keys!

  I wiggled toward the Ford, retrieved the keys, bolted to the Jeep, and leaned against the passenger side door until my breathing slowed, my heart stopped pounding, and my shaking subsided.

  With my backpack and purse nestled onto the passenger seat, I slipped in behind the steering wheel and cradled my phone in my hands to search online for a tire store.

  Finding one in the same shopping center as the Whole Foods market I needed to visit, I used cruise control to avoid speeding while Google Maps led me to my destination. I needed to listen to soothing music, but I turned to a news station hoping to learn the status of my community.

  I parked in front of a picture window that showed displays of stacked tires, taking both my backpack and my purse inside.

  At a counter in the middle of the store, I approached a smiling twenty-something man. He greeted me with a deep voice that sounded like it belonged in a commercial for something manly.