The Stone Serpent, page 9
“I won’t,” Laura said. “And I promise to help if I can. Is there anyone I can talk to about stopping the wedding?”
Meredith shook her head. “My father is the Shepherd. There’s no one above him to talk to. This is what he’s decided for me, which means it’s what’s going to happen. That’s why I wanted Mal to take me with him, but I never worked up the nerve to ask him. And now it’s too late.”
“I’m so sorry about what happened to your brother,” Laura said.
“Me, too,” Meredith said. “Sometimes I can’t believe he’s dead. Like, maybe he faked it so no one could find him and force him to come back here.”
“I’m so sorry,” Laura said. “It’s not fake.”
Meredith looked down at her feet. “I know. It was just something I liked to pretend.”
“I came here to find out what happened to Malachai, but your father won’t tell me anything about him.”
Meredith rolled her eyes. “Of course he won’t tell you anything. Neither will Sharon. She’s so stupid. She just does whatever he tells her to.”
“That’s not true,” Laura said. “She’s the one who let me talk to you, even though she knows your father wouldn’t like it. She cares about you very much. She cared about Malachai, too.”
“Mal hated her as much as I do.”
“Why?”
“He and Sharon are the same age!” Meredith exclaimed. Realizing she’d raised her voice, she lowered it to a whisper again. “She keeps trying to be our mother, but she’s not our mother.”
They were getting off track and Laura was running out of time. Eliezer could return at any moment.
“I was hoping you could tell me something about Malachai that might help me,” she said. “You mentioned before that he didn’t have any enemies. What about illnesses? Was he sick at all before he left?”
“No,” Meredith said. “He was happy and excited about leaving. He got into so many arguments with Father about it. Father didn’t want Mal to leave, but only because of how it would look for him. He didn’t like that Mal had a job outside Valley Grove. He didn’t want him being around outsiders because he said their secular ideas would make him question the Church, but he had it backward. Mal was already questioning the Church. Taking the job was how he saved money to start a new life somewhere else.”
“I didn’t know Malachai had a job,” Laura said. “What did he do?”
“He worked at Thurmond Biotech, that big building on the other side of the lake,” Meredith said. “They make prescription drugs, I think. I don’t know what Mal did for them, but they must have made him work really hard because he always came home tired.”
She’d seen the gleaming glass building across the lake when she’d driven into Valley Grove. Malachai working at a biotech company was an interesting wrinkle. Could he have been exposed to something there that was responsible for his petrifaction? It was worth digging deeper to find out.
Laura stood up. “Thank you, Meredith. You’ve been a big help.”
“You’re welcome.”
She started toward the door but stopped and turned back to Meredith. “I meant what I said before. I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
Meredith smiled, but Laura knew it was only for her sake. There was no happiness in it. Laura walked back to the bed and hugged her. Meredith hugged her back, tighter than she thought the girl would.
Laura left the bedroom, closing the door gently behind her so it wouldn’t make a sound, and started down the hallway back toward the kitchen. She promised herself she would find a way to get Meredith out of her predicament. There had to be something she could do. She couldn’t let this marriage happen.
Eliezer’s agitated voice bellowed from somewhere in the house. “Elder Francis thinks he can take the Shepherdom from me? He thinks he has what it takes to lead this congregation? This community? He’s a fool!”
Laura froze, staying quiet. She heard Sharon’s voice trying to calm Eliezer down. Laura crept silently into the kitchen. She peeked through the open doorway to the dining room and saw them both standing by the table. Eliezer had his back to her. Laura wanted to storm up to him and give him an earful about Meredith’s impending marriage, but she knew the repercussions would only come down on Meredith’s head. Hiding in the kitchen, she waited for a chance to make her exit.
“I had a visit from Emma Richter,” Sharon told Eliezer. “She says her daughter Beth has gone missing. She went looking for her when it was time for Beth’s midday chores, but she was nowhere to be found.”
“She’ll turn up,” Eliezer said. Laura couldn’t see his expression from where she hid in the kitchen, but his voice betrayed his lack of concern.
“Beth’s only fifteen,” Sharon pressed. “No one’s seen her since this morning. Her mother is going out of her mind. I know she’d appreciate your help.”
Whoever Beth Richter was, Laura couldn’t help wondering if she had run away like Malachai did. Like Meredith wanted to. They couldn’t be the only ones desperate to get out of Valley Grove. But there were other reasons teenage girls went missing. Darker reasons. From what she’d seen of the Church of the Divine Chariot so far, there was a sick obsession with teenaged girls among the older male population.
“Enough, Sharon. I said she’ll turn up,” Eliezer said. “Emma’s a worrier, that’s all. I’m sure the girl is fine. Now, don’t disturb me with anything else.”
Sharon sighed and looked away from her husband, suddenly noticing Laura in the kitchen. She froze a moment, then darted her eyes briefly to one side. It was a message, Laura realized, telling her which way to go. Nodding her gratitude, Laura doubled back and found a door in the kitchen leading to the backyard. She slipped quietly out of the house.
At the far end of the yard, standing at the head of the driveway that ran alongside the house, was a wide concrete garage. Laura made a break for it, staying low as she dashed across the yard, hoping she wouldn’t be seen from the house. She darted behind the garage and into the woods in back. Picking her way through the trees as she circled back toward the main road, she wondered again about the missing girl, Beth Richter. Had Beth fled through these same woods, desperate to escape the oppressive life of the Church of the Divine Chariot, or had something else happened to her? Something worse?
12.
* * *
It was a half-hour drive from Valley Grove to Thurmond Biotech. With no direct route around the lake, Laura was forced to drive through the streets of the next town over while her GPS recited directions. Occasionally, the gleaming building would show itself in the distance atop a tall, craggy cliff above the lakeshore.
Booker called. She put it through to her car’s hands-free speakerphone.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“The Church of the Divine Chariot is more messed up than I thought,” she said. “They’re marrying off girls—children—to older men like it’s nothing, like the only purpose these girls serve is to bear their children. One girl went missing today, and the Shepherd, the leader of the Church, doesn’t give a damn. I hope she’s okay. I hope she ran away from this madness and is somewhere safe.”
“It sounds awful,” Booker said. “How much longer are you going to be there?”
“Probably not much longer. I’m just following a lead. Malachai Applewhite had a job at a pharmaceutical company called Thurmond Biotech. The president of the company agreed to answer a few questions.”
“Great. In the meantime, I found something interesting,” Booker said. “It turns out spontaneous petrifaction isn’t unheard of in nature. Have you ever heard of Lake Natron in Tanzania?”
Laura stopped at a red light. “No, I can’t say I have.”
“It has a reputation as the deadliest lake in the world,” he said. “It’s believed that any creature that enters its waters is instantly turned to stone. That’s an exaggeration, of course, but it’s not far from the truth. Lake Natron is a landlocked salt lake, so over time, as the water evaporates in the desert heat, it leaves behind a higher and higher concentration of salt, just like the Dead Sea or the Great Salt Lake in Utah. Except here, there’s also an active volcano nearby that spews a dark, muddy lava that’s rich in natron, which is a naturally-occurring sodium. In fact, it’s the same stuff the ancient Egyptians used to dry out cadavers for mummification.”
The light turned green, and Laura drove on through a sleepy neighborhood of small, two-story houses.
“The natron must make the lake even saltier than it already was,” she said.
“Hotter, too,” Booker said. “The natron-rich lava pours into the lake and turns the water hot enough to cause third-degree burns. All of this results in a lake that’s like a caustic, preservative cauldron. Now imagine a passing bird dives into the lake, thinking it’s going to get itself a nice fish to eat. The heat kills the bird almost instantly, and thanks to the natron and the high level of salt, its carcass becomes calcified into a hardened, stonelike state and sinks to the bottom. When the lake waters recede during the dry season, the shore is littered with chemically-preserved carcasses. It’s like a sculpture garden of dead birds.”
“You always tell me the most romantic stories,” Laura said.
“That’s not even the weirdest part,” Booker continued. “Only three creatures are known to survive the waters of Lake Natron. One is a species of tilapia that has evolved to exist in the hypersaline environment. The second is a blue-green algae called Spirulina. And the third is…flamingos.”
“Flamingos?” she said with a laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“It’s true. Flamingos evolved in such a way that Lake Natron’s high salinity doesn’t bother them. On the contrary, it gives them a plethora of algae to eat and a chance to breed safely away from their natural predators, all of whom avoid the lake because it’s deadly to them.”
Laura shook her head. “The deadliest lake in the world, except to flamingos. The same big pink birds people in Florida put plastic replicas of on their lawns.”
“What can I say? The natural world is full of wonders and terrors alike,” he said. “Flamingos aside, Lake Natron proves spontaneous petrifaction exists.”
“The dead birds in Lake Natron were petrified by the introduction of an external chemical catalyst,” Laura said. “I was already thinking Malachai might have been exposed to something at Thurmond Biotech. If it was a similar chemical catalyst…”
“Bingo,” he said. “Let me know what you find out. I’ll keep researching.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I love you.”
He scoffed. “You only love me when I bring you weird science facts.”
“True. The rest of the time I only tolerate you.”
“I tolerate you too, dear,” he said. “Be careful. Call me later.”
She ended the call and continued driving. According to the GPS, Thurmond Biotech wasn’t much farther now. She passed an abandoned gas station on the side of the road. Its pumps were gone, but the building still there, boarded up and graffitied. An old Sunoco sign, shattered and sun-bleached, sat on top of a rusted pole. It was clear this road didn’t get the traffic it used to. There were lots of old roads in the Hudson Valley like this one, all but abandoned after being replaced by newer roads and highways. Wherever this road used to lead, it only went to one place now. Thurmond Biotech reared up before her, a gleaming monolith of glass and steel that reflected the midday sun like an enormous mirror. Beyond it, the old road petered out into overgrown grass, weeds, and eventually the forest. Thurmond Biotech was the end of the line.
She turned into the driveway, which after a few yards split like a forked tongue. One side led around the side of the building to a loading dock, where several unmarked semi-trailers were parked. The other led Laura to a huge parking lot in front of the building, where she parked and got out of the car. There was no shade in the lot, and the sun beat down mercilessly as she crossed the shimmering asphalt to the entrance. In the distance, beyond the building, Laura could see the rippling water of the lake and, on the other side, Valley Grove in miniature.
The name THURMOND BIOTECH was etched into the frosted glass of the front door. The door slid open automatically for her, granting her access to a cavernous, air-conditioned lobby. Laura soaked in the cool air as the sweat evaporated on her skin. The walls and floor of the lobby were a polished white granite marbled with dark veins. The reception desk, made of the same granite, was manned by a single uniformed security guard. Standing next to the desk was the man she was here to meet—Hugh Robertson, president of the company. Wearing a crisp blue suit and a red-striped tie, he approached her with a smile and extended one hand.
“You must be Dr. Powell,” he said as he shook Laura’s hand. It was a salesman’s handshake, firm, steady, one pump and done. His skin was the color of bronzing cream, but his hair was gray enough to be almost white. “Welcome to Thurmond Biotech.”
Laura handed Hugh her business card. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Mr. Robertson. I just have a few questions about Malachai Applewhite.”
“I’m happy to answer any questions you have. Anything to help the police.” Hugh looked at the card and furrowed his brow. “Isn’t it, um, unusual for a medical examiner to interview people?”
She ignored the question. “Did you know Malachai Applewhite personally?”
He slipped the card into the inside pocket of his blazer. “Of course. I make it a policy to get to know everyone who works here. We were all shocked to hear the news about Malachai. He was a valued member of the Thurmond Biotech family.”
A chime sounded from the lobby’s elevator bank as one of the elevators opened. A young man stepped out, not yet thirty, with sandy-blond hair and soft features. He wore a black Dio t-shirt and pulled a vape pen out of his pocket as he went out to the parking lot for a smoke break.
“Mr. Robertson, who notified the company about Malachai’s death?” Laura asked. “Was it his family?”
“Oh no, definitely not,” Hugh said. “As I understand it, his family lives across the lake in Valley Grove. They’re with the Church of the Divine Chariot, and so they—how should I put this?—weren’t exactly supportive of Malachai’s decision to work here. I’m sorry to say we received the tragic news directly from the Sakima PD. Apparently, Malachai’s keycard and company ID were found in his wallet. Honestly, I’m not sure what I can tell you that I didn’t already tell them on the phone.”
“Let’s start from the beginning,” Laura said. “What was Malachai’s role here?”
“He worked on the manufacturing floor downstairs. I can show you, if you’d like to see.”
She told him she would like that very much, and he led her past the elevators to a door that he opened with a swipe of his key card. Beyond it was a corridor that looked much more like an average office than the highly polished stone lobby, complete with gray industrial carpeting and off-white plaster walls. The corridor let out onto a large administrative space made up of numerous cubicles and a few private offices separated by frosted glass walls. Along one wall, picture windows overlooked the sparkling waters of the lake. Men and women in business-casual attire sat talking on their desk phones or moving between enormous file cabinets the size of walls.
“This is our order fulfillment department,” Hugh explained, brushing a hand through his white hair. “Forgive me for crowing, but we just closed out the best quarter in our company’s history, with revenue of two-point-five billion dollars. We also just received FDA approval on a product that we estimate will increase revenue by another fifteen percent by the end of this quarter.”
“That’s very impressive,” Laura said. “What exactly do you make here, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I don’t mind at all, Dr. Powell. Thurmond Biotech originally made its name with biofuels and pest-resistant crops, but today we specialize in life-saving medicine and medical research.”
His words were well practiced, as if he were giving a tour to prospective investors. She wondered how many times he’d done this before. They passed into a hallway. At the far end was a heavy-duty stainless-steel door with a keypad on the handle. She started toward it, but he stopped her.
“That’s our Research and Development Department,” he said. “It’s off limits, I’m afraid. This way.”
He used his key card to unlock another door in the middle of the hallway. Behind it was a concrete stairwell leading down. As they descended, Hugh resumed his speech, his voice echoing off the austere concrete walls of the stairway.
“Currently, the project we’re most excited about is an anti-aging remedy that enhances immune function to increase longevity. Just think of it. No more macular degeneration, no more hearing loss, no more osteoarthritis. No more atherosclerosis, cataracts, or osteoporosis. No more dementia. All thanks to one little pill. I don’t have to tell you how competitive the anti-aging field is. The first company to make it to market with a pill that actually works stands to make a fortune. I intend for that company to be Thurmond Biotech.”
“An anti-aging pill sounds like a dream,” Laura said. “How would it work?”
“I’m afraid that’s proprietary information, Dr. Powell. I’m not at liberty to share.”
She nodded. “Research and development.”
“Precisely. However, I can tell you this: What sets biotechnology above the pharmaceutical industries of old is that it allows us to manipulate microorganisms and certain biological substances to perform specific processes.”
“Genetic modification?” Laura asked.
Hugh grinned. His teeth were as white as his hair. “Mother Nature always has the answer, Dr. Powell, but sometimes you just need to give her a little push.”
He used his card to open a door at the bottom of the steps. Inside was a small locker room with private showers and changing areas. At the far end were two more doors, one labeled MANUFACTURING, the other OBSERVATION. He took Laura through the second door and into a long, narrow room with a window of thick glass along one wall. On the other side of the window was a gymnasium-sized space filled with rows of gleaming, stainless-steel machines. Workers moved back and forth between them in the harsh artificial light, covered from head to toe with protective body suits, gloves, goggles, hair nets, and respirators.
