Savage Plan: A Mystery Thriller Read online

  Savage Plan

  A Mystery Thriller

  A J Faris

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: A Shot in the Dark

  Chapter 2: Drugs and Wellbeing

  Chapter 3: On Deaf Ears

  Chapter 4: Lack of Evidence

  Chapter 5: Without an Appointment

  Chapter 6: A Treatment for the Soul and the Mind

  Chapter 7: House Guest

  Chapter 8: Escape is Futile

  Chapter 9: A Private Tour

  Chapter 10: Door Number Seven

  Chapter 11: Carver

  Chapter 12: An Ally’s Absence

  Chapter 13: An Escapee’s Dilemma

  Chapter 14: Sandra’s Sacrifice

  Chapter 15: Charles Knows All

  Chapter 16: Evil’s Long Reach

  Chapter 17: Hope Comes

  Chapter 18: Till Death

  Chapter 1: A Shot in the Dark

  Even on a beautiful day, when the sun streaked through the few clouds in the sky, Amelia Carter’s guilt cast a deep shadow over her. For the things that always haunt a person are the faces of those they’ve lost. Yes, and it was failure that had settled like sediment at the very core of Amelia’s mourning for those who had died at Selas Harbor two years back. And since then, it was that same feeling that drove her forward, that made her dedicate herself to one thing and one thing only, to bring justice to the man responsible, to find Carver.

  She had been driving for two days straight, all the way from Chicago, after thinking that she ought to keep her head down for a couple of days, maybe do a few assignments, get a few paychecks to come her way. That was the only thing that fortuned her, that she found a gig as a journalist on the road with the national paper, The State. So, from time to time, she drove somewhere, reported on something, and then she was set up for a couple of weeks. All that fell to the wayside, however, when a colleague sent her a tip, something she was beginning to think would never happen.

  And the thing she had been waiting for would come from the death of a man who she had not known and had died in a small-town Amelia had never heard of. Though, what she did recognize was the chemical compound listed in the man’s toxicology report. The colleague, who operated out of Washington State, came across the report when they were granted access to recent death records while Amelia’s colleague was writing a piece entitled “The Meticulous Art of Toxicology.” Subsequently, the article was never published, but the accidental findings of the synthetic opioid ‘U-47’ remained. A compound so elusive and specific, that it was almost too good to be true and impossible to doubt that anyone else could have supplied it but Carver.

  Ask any law enforcement agency if they had any knowledge of a drug empire headed by Carver, or even of the drug itself ‘U-47’ and more than likely you would be presented with nothing but a blank stare. In fact, if Amelia herself didn’t experience firsthand the devastation these experimental drug methods could do to a community, or if her brother Mark hadn’t been murdered in cold blood, or if she wasn’t dragged deep into a conspiracy that saw a whole town’s police force slaughtered under a whirlwind of bullets, or if her friend, colleague, and man she persuaded to help her find her brother, Terry, wasn’t slayed just moments before she could reach him, then yes, maybe she would have a hard time believing it all as well, but that was the thing, wasn’t it? It did happen, and that sort of pain doesn’t just go away.

  Approaching the small, picturesque town of Amber Falls, “a town built from trees,” it was hard to imagine it as a place home to any kind of drug epidemic. No folk out on the corners, scratching at their yellow-scabbed arms with that knowable desperation in their eyes; no, not here. Here, you saw wholesome-looking people; farmers and organic food shop owners, quaint vegetable vendors, bakery, café, a red-roofed bar and an extinct sawmill plant renovated into a restaurant.

  Amelia drove through the town in her station wagon, her life’s few possessions in the back, the necessities only, and the folders of documents she uses to research and search and search again for any signs that could give confirmation of Carver’s existence, a trace to follow, anything to point her in the right direction. The death report came from a wellness spa in the area, one that was adequately sign posted, though that seemed to be not so necessary as the whole town, it seemed, lined both sides of the one road that both took you in and out of Amber Falls. The wellness spa, at the far end of the town’s perimeter, was situated about a mile and a half up the main road’s incline, overlooking a vast view of nothing but a sea of Red Cedar and Ponderosa Pine trees.

  When Amelia parked her car in the front parking lot of the wellness center, she looked onto the sleek, pyramid-shaped building with a certain sense of confusion. Where the town of Amber Falls had its building primarily made from wooden structures, their beams exposed, the exterior of the spa seemed worlds apart in the fact of how modern it looked. With a glass front and supporting steel structure, its entire front facing wall and entrance reflected the light and trees, almost giving the observer the sense that the building was trying to become invisible.

  “Welcome to the Amber Falls spa for wellness.” A young lady with smooth pale skin and dark caramel eyes greeted Amelia as she arrived through the front automatic doors. “Do you have an appointment?” she asked. A pretty thing with her blonde hair tied back. In the background, a mellow, calming melody played that was mainly a combination of a piano and a violin.

  Amelia, with a certain kind of readiness that she always had in such situations, pulled from her pocket her credentials. “Hi, my name’s Amelia Carter. I have an appointment for a tour of your facilities?”

  “You’re the journalist?” the receptionist asked, a genuine tone of interest in her voice. Amelia had rung a day prior to confirm an appointment. “And you’re writing an article?”

  “That’s right, for the national paper The State; we’re in the middle of writing a piece on the country's most recommended wellness centers.” After conducting a little research on the spa, it appears that the Amber Falls spa catered to a clientele that could be considered as exclusive.

  The receptionist, with her kind tone and attractive smile, told Amelia to take a seat in one of the many empty chairs that ran
in rows to one side of the vast entry hall of the spa. The place was seemingly empty, causing Amelia to actively check both the time and date. “Slow Monday?” she asked, her voice echoing off the interior of the glass walls before landing on the receptionist’s desk.

  “No, quite busy.” The receptionist smiled then placed her eyes back to the screen in front of her.

  Amelia looked left to right, as if needing to confirm the absent population from the waiting room. She frowned at the receptionist, making a mental note of the exchange, as she tended to do. Soon after, a man arrived, appearing from a door on the left. He made his way to the reception desk, where he made quick work of leaning over to hear what the receptionist had to tell him.

  He looked over to Amelia, adjusted the glasses that rested on his nose, and approached with his hand extended. “Welcome. My name is Charles Taker, I’m the director of the spa. I’m told that you’re the reporter interested in including us in your article?” he asked in a slight southern twang.

  Amelia nodded. She offered her identity, and he leaned over, hinging at his hips to read it.

  “And may I ask how you came to hear about us?”

  “A colleague of mine had a relative who used your facilities before, and you guys seem to have quite the reputation.” Amelia found herself riffing on the little information she did actually manage to acquire during the short time she had to research the place. “In particular, there seems to be a rising trend of treatments amongst CEOs. I’m sure a lot of our readers would like to know if there’s a connection between wellness and success.”

  “Is that so?” The spa director looked over Amelia, to the overall unassuming attire, which was no more than a black buttoned shirt and jeans. “Unfortunately, Miss Amelia Carter,” he read the name from the identity card, “ordinarily we scarcely grant tours to the media. If you consider that the majority of our residents are here to escape their often-frantic lives, it’s of the utmost importance that we ensure a safe and seclusive environment for our clients. However, in a show of good faith, we wouldn’t be opposed in allowing you a small tour of our daily clinic.”

  “Daily clinic?” Amelia questioned, feeling that her knowledge was rather limited on the subject.

  “How about we walk and talk, Miss Carter?”

  ***

  Charles Taker walked Amelia around the immediate facilities that Amber Falls spa had to offer. “Here, we accommodate a whole manner of treatments.” They walked through the pristine yet repetitious room that, in effect, was a set of several rooms adjoined by one open space. “Mainly deep tissue messages, aromatherapy, salt peels, acupuncture, and once a week, we hold meditative consultations.” From time to time, someone would exit one of the therapy rooms dressed in a bathrobe and accompanied by a person in white scrubs. They would smile upon seeing Mr. Taker, then were ushered into another room.

  “Ah, Mr. Jacobs.” Charles Taker called over a man as he exited the far room on the right, “Amelia Carter, allow me to introduce one of our senior therapists, Austin Jacobs.”

  The man Charles Taker pointed to reached out his hand to shake Amelia’s.

  “Amelia is a writer for The State newspaper.”

  “Wow, very nice to meet you. Are you writing a piece on Amber Falls?” Austin Jacobs asked. A handsome man, with a subtle stubble that angled his already symmetric face. He swept his hair to the left side of his head, but as he spoke to Amelia, three strands of hair dangled over his forehead, swaying each time Austin moved.

  “That still remains to be seen,” Amelia answered, the way in which Charles introduced her gave her the impression that the man was in debate with his own pride, that the idea of an article written about him gave him a hint of pleasure. “It would be great to include Amber Falls’ wellness center in an exclusive. I think the paper’s eighty million or so readers would be interested in learning why some of the country’s most successful players have chosen your spa when seeking good health, but that would require a little more of an intimate understanding of the treatments you run, and perhaps a full tour of your facilities?”

  Austin Jacobs, although presenting a smile, looked awkwardly toward his superior, who in return, seemed to be entertaining the idea of Amelia’s proposition, even if her methods were unorthodox.

  Then Charles smiled. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you come back tomorrow, and we can discuss this article of yours further? Either way, if we do agree to a more extensive tour, it would only be right to inform our residents of the fact, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Amelia nodded in agreement to the proposal, though felt a certain disappointment rise in her emotions, feeling that, apart from an overly sterile place, Amber Falls was nothing more than some getaway for the rich, that this apparent lead from her colleague would end up, just like all her previous attempts in finding Carver, a dead end. That was, if upon leaving the open hall of the daily clinic, she didn’t get a glimpse through a door set ajar off the main hall, one that held inside four bald men lined up in a row, their hands stuck by their sides, and their mouths drooling as if they were taking a ‘trip’ of a lifetime, as if they had been given ‘U-47.’

  After leaving the center, Amelia thought about the faces of those four men as she waited for sundown. She even had to shake her head at the idea that the toxicology report from the man that died in this very center may be the only tangible evidence she had that could lead her to Carver. Yeah, the problem was, she had no idea how she was going to get her hands on the actual report, or better still, get access to a room holding the drug. And as she parked her car off the main road and onto a graveled path to get some sleep for the night, all she could do was to try and plan her next move.

  Chapter 2: Drugs and Wellbeing

  In the beginning, after Amelia decided to ditch her apartment for a permanent residency at the back of her station wagon, getting any amount of actual sleep was tough. However, over the course of time, like most things in life, you become accustomed to even the most unusual of things. And for the most part, it was the lack of comfort that appealed to life on the road. It kept her on her toes, always ready to move at a moment’s notice, to act without care of what she was leaving behind, because going back was not an option, not anymore. Especially when the absurd image of four bald men, drooling as if they had no more sense than a three-year-old, could well have been the first indication that Carver was indeed still at large.

  After leaving her car in the parking lot, Amelia was welcomed once more by the receptionist at the Amber Falls Wellness Center front desk. Though, that time, she was quickly accompanied by senior therapist Austin Jacobs. “Are you staying out of town?” he asked while readjusting his gray tie that hung down to the navel area of his navy-blue shirt, a white laboratory coat on top of that.

  Amelia frowned at the question. “What makes you think that?”

  Austin smiled, curving the left side of his lip. “It's a very small town, Miss Carter, and I know Mrs. Ashbury pretty well, the lady that owns the only hotel in town.”

  Amelia followed Austin down a side corridor that seemed to run alongside the day center. “So, you asked about me?” she questioned, unsure what to make of this smiling, and quite honestly obscure, senior therapist, whatever that meant, who must be no older than Amelia herself.

  They stopped at the end of the corridor when they met a double locked door that was operated by key card only. Austin Jacobs turned to face Amelia. “It's not every day that a big-shot reporter visits us here in Amber Falls.” He smiled again. “Please, after you.” From his shirt pocket, Austin pulled a key card that he swiped on the door's control station. He held one of the doors open, waited for Amelia to walk through, then firmly closed it so that an audible confirmation in the form of a beep sounded out.

  She was then led through a corridor on the left, followed by a bizarre sequence of turns. Amelia looked back with every directional change, as if taking a mental photograph, should she have to find her way out unaccompanied by any members of staff. “How
big is this place?” she found herself asking, the thought simultaneously appearing in her mind and voiced at the same time.

  “The residential therapy wing covers 6,000 square meters.” As Austin Jacobs spoke, almost as if to clarify the vastness of the center, he walked Amelia to another open hall. The glass ceiling was three, maybe four times the size of the day clinic at what appeared to be the center of the building’s pyramid-like shape. “I know, it’s quite something, isn’t it?”

  Amelia agreed as she slowly continued to follow Austin. The open hall on this side of the clinic was occupied by guests sitting in armchairs, or at tables, all with identical white robes and of various ages. Much like the day clinic, various rooms lined each side of the hall that under closer inspection resembled a cross, as four distinctive corridors, one of which Amelia arrived from, led to and from the big hall. At the northern side of the open hall stood Charles Taker with arms behind his back looking over the residents as they shuffled through the space, as if he was a shepherd keeping an eye over his herd. “Ah,” he exclaimed upon seeing Amelia, “welcome to Amber Falls wellness center; isn’t she magnificent?”

  With trepidation, Amelia smiled. “It’s certainly not what I expected.”

  Charles Taker looked at Amelia from above the rim of his glasses, then shifted his focus onto Austin. “You can leave us now and return to your schedule. I’ll show Miss Carter the facilities myself.”

  ***

  “So, as you can see, Miss Carter, here at Amber Falls Wellness Center, we aim to provide our residents with an extensive range of therapeutic procedures to aid in a whole manner of issues, from physical to cognitive health.”

  “Does that include a medical wing?” Amelia, having taken various notes on the procedures described to her, held her pad ready to note down the answer Charles would give her.