Poison Orchids: A darkly compelling psychological thriller

by Sarah A. Denzil

  “Megan—hello,” answered Bronwen. She sounded tired and perhaps a little anxious.

  “Bron, can I have a minute?”

  “Shoot. But I’ll warn you I’m pretty flat-out right now.”

  Megan took a breath before saying, “I can’t be certain, but I thought I just saw Gemma.”

  “You did?” she said with surprise. “But you’re not sure?”

  “It was at a distance.”

  “Where are you?”

  “The farm.”

  “The farm? You mean Llewellyn’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hell. Why?”

  “I know it’s wrong of me, and I know I shouldn’t be here. But after reading Leah’s files…” She sighed. “Look, I told Tate a lie about the department getting complaints from some former workers. I just wanted to come and check things out for myself. Bronwen, I’d really like you to read those files. Lots of the things that Clay Durrell told Leah ended up being true. There’s every reason to believe the rest of what he told her, and—”

  “Hold on. Listen. Don’t say any more. You need to get yourself out of there. We have reason to believe that it’s not safe.”

  “It’s not safe? What—?”

  “Just find an excuse to leave. Say you’re feeling ill or whatever. Just go.”

  Megan fumbled for words, stunned at the sudden flip in Bronwen’s attitude towards the farm. She’d been almost blasé last time they’d spoken. Even her voice was different—back to Bronwen’s usual direct tones.

  “Have you discovered something new?” Megan said, a small surge of hope rising in her.

  “I can’t say right now. Please, go,” Bronwen replied. “Oh, and Megan, leave quickly but don’t let on that anything’s wrong. I don’t want him tipped off.”

  “Okay. Got it.” Putting her phone away, she headed back to the hall.

  The group was still sitting and meditation with their eyes closed. Tate was watching on with an encouraging smile on his face, his ear to his phone.

  Maybe she could just leave—and then phone Sophie with an excuse when she was on the road. Say she was sick or something. Yes, that sounded easier.

  But when she turned to walk out of the hall, Sophie was there near the door.

  A frown stippled Sophie’s forehead. “Is everything all right?”

  Megan shook her head, giving herself a second to think. She could hardly say she was sick now. She needed a different excuse. “I’m terribly sorry. Just got an urgent call. One of my clients has gone off his meds, and he has his wife and kids bailed up inside their house—with a knife no less. I’m going to have to run.”

  She spilled the words out to Sophie, almost stuttering in her haste. It was a real story, but it had happened six months ago.

  “Oh, that’s terrible! I’ll drive you back to your car.”

  Megan gave her a grateful smile. She didn’t want to get back into a buggy with Sophie, but it’d seem odd to refuse it, seeing as she was meant to be in a hurry, and it was quite a distance by foot.

  Sophie started chatting about the mango harvest as they walked out and into the buggy.

  Instead of heading directly to the gate, she veered towards the house. “I’ll just grab you some information about our farm operations. The office is on the bottom level of the house.”

  “I’ll get that next time,” Megan hastened to say. “I’m in a bit of a rush.”

  “It’ll just take a second.” The cheery voice gone, Sophie drove the buggy around to the back of the house and parked it.

  Another buggy cut across in their direction. It was Freddy again.

  Megan tensed. The farm seemed even emptier than when she’d first entered the property. Everyone was now in the hall. Behind the house was just miles and miles of nothing. Just scrubby red bushland.

  Sophie jumped from the buggy. “Come through.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll wait here.” Surely this couldn’t be what it seemed? It was only Tate who posed a possible danger, right? Not his staff.

  Freddy pulled up alongside. Megan cast a sidelong glance at him. His expression was cold and intent.

  Something was very wrong.

  The keys in the ignition caught her eye. Before she could act, Sophie snatched the keys out. In an instant, Freddy was beside Megan, his hand closing around her upper arm.

  This isn’t happening to me. It can’t be.

  Freddy tugged her towards the back entry of the house while Sophie watched on.

  They’re kidnapping me. They’re really kidnapping me.

  Struggling, Megan whirled around to Sophie. “What are you doing? I’m sure you don’t want to force me in here. I was actually on the phone to the police when I was in the hall.”

  Sophie’s expression turned brittle. “I know. Tate asked me to watch you. I overheard your entire conversation.”

  Freddy tightened his grip. Sophie took her bag and checked her pockets. Her phone and car keys were ripped from her.

  Freddy pulled her into the house and along a hallway. The hallway opened into a private lounge area with a library. A waterfall washed down over gleaming steps of black marble.

  Sophie turned the waterfall off, and then tapped another screen that made a loud click. Stooping, she raised a step in the marble and then a door. Megan stared down into a set of dark stairs.

  Her heart skittered.

  Freddy prodded her back. With legs of jelly she walked down the steps.

  A young man stood in the middle of the room. He glanced warily from Megan to Sophie and Freddy. “Who the hell is that?” His accent was Irish.

  “Never mind,” replied Sophie sharply. Turning her head, she gestured towards a dim area to the side of the staircase. “How long ago did you give them the injections?”

  The young man shrugged. “Don’t know, hey. Maybe ten minutes.”

  Megan followed Sophie’s gaze, inhaling an abrupt breath as she caught sight of two girls lying face down on the floor. Their hair had tangled together—their limbs at odd angles—as if they’d been crawling across the floor in painful spasms. Two syringes sat on the table near them.

  Gemma and Hayley.

  Dead.

  39

  Megan

  Megan cried out loud. Anger flamed white-hot in her chest.

  The police hadn’t found the girls in time. Neither had she. Everyone had failed them.

  In death, Gemma and Hayley faced each other, their hair half fallen over their still faces.

  Who were these people? How could they do such terrible things?

  It seemed that Sophie and Freddy were waiting for something. A minute later, Tate entered the room. Megan understood then that they’d been waiting for him.

  Tate closed the marble door behind him. A brief look of regret flickered in his eyes as he stared at the two bodies on the floor, but his expression quickly sharpened.

  When Tate glanced at Megan, there was none of the charm he’d exhibited earlier. He looked ruffled, no longer as self-assured, his lips drawn into a taut line. She knew with all certainty that he intended to kill her too. The overheard phone conversation had sealed her fate.

  Her heart pounded like a fist against her ribs.

  The young Irish man crossed his arms. “I swear I did what you said. Gave them the sedatives and all. It went belly-up somehow. Not my fault.”

  “Well, that’s not looking good for you then, is it, Eoin?” said Tate coolly.

  Eoin’s jaw slackened. “What the hell are you saying?”

  “What I’m saying,” said Tate, “is that you’ve just caused the death of two people. Aside from that, we have some problems. And you’re in it up to your neck. What I need to know is, are you with us, or not? Make your choice.”

  Swallowing, Eoin nodded. “I’m in with you all the way.”

  Sophie eyed Tate, nervously scraping sweat-soaked strands of hair from her forehead. “You promised that things wouldn’t blow up like this. The police weren’t supposed to have Leah’s files
. Rodney said he destroyed them, right?”

  A vein jumped in Tate’s temple. “She must have hidden the real files. White wasn’t smart enough to realise the ones he found were dummy files.”

  “The police know too much now,” said Sophie, her voice thin. “They’re sure to want to do another search.” She sucked in a shrill breath. “God—the recordings. I'm on some of those.”

  “They won't find this room,” Tate told her. “They didn't before. They won't now.”

  Sophie shot him a horrified glance. “This room? You encrypted the data online, right? We spoke about—?”

  Tate ran a hand in jagged lines through his hair, ruffling the perfect waves. “Anything you put online can be compromised, for a price. Don't worry. I've got this. Okay?”

  Sophie nodded stiffly. “Okay. But you know they'll look harder this time. We’ve got two dead runaways on our hands. And a fucking police psychologist.”

  Megan realised then that they’d probably known who she was as soon as she’d contacted them. But they gotten one thing wrong. She wasn’t a police psychologist. She was just a psychologist who’d stepped way past her professional boundary lines. And now she was about to pay the ultimate price. Just as Leah had.

  One thought rang clear: survive.

  “The police are on their way.” Megan’s words rushed out. “You have to let me go.”

  “You should have thought more carefully before you invented a fake reason to come here,” Tate told her icily.

  “This is insane. You’re making things far worse,” Megan countered.

  “Thank you for your diagnosis,” he said. “Now keep quiet, or we’ll make you quiet.”

  He turned his attention back to Sophie. “It’s all right. Everything’s wrapped up watertight. We just need to manage the current situation. Let’s take a moment to consider our options.”

  “We don’t have a moment,” Sophie snapped.

  He met her gaze with irritation. “If you want to do something right, you don’t rush.”

  “You don’t understand, Tate,” she said. “It’s not just the current situation we need to worry about. It’s this whole place. The employees. If the police know about the memory research, then they’ll question every single worker, one by one. And if too many of the workers have the same exact nightmares, then what do you think is going to happen?”

  “That’s understood. Completely.” Tate straightened his shirt and collar, as if putting himself in order. “But there isn’t anything that can’t be fixed.” Leaning his back against a cabinet, Tate seemed to remove himself from the others and sink into deep thought.

  Sophie and Freddy had a heated exchange—Freddy backing Tate up and telling Sophie to be patient. Freddy dropped his hold on Megan, gesticulating angrily at Sophie. Eoin stood alone, staying silent.

  Megan sensed the seconds ticking away faster and faster.

  Walking to the girls, she dropped to her knees next to them. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You deserved much better. So much better…”

  When she raised her head, she found Tate gazing at the girls, an abstracted look on his face, as if he were looking at mere objects.

  Tate faced Sophie. “This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to solve all the issues at once. We’re going to have it that Hayley and Gemma went crazy and poisoned everyone. They’re here, and the police suspect they’re here, so why not put them in plain sight?”

  Poison everyone, Megan mouthed silently, a cold stone forming in her stomach. She stared from Sophie to Tate in horror.

  Sophie’s mouth dropped incredulously. “Dead girls can’t poison anyone.”

  “They’re not dead yet,” Tate told her. “It’s a slow acting medication. And untraceable.”

  Megan watched on in shock as Tate crossed the room and knelt on one knee, as if he were about to propose to the girls in some macabre gesture. Picking up the wrist of each girl in turn, he held two fingers to their veins. “I have a heartbeat on Hayley. And Gemma too.” Tate was surprisingly gentle as he replaced their arms on the floor.

  You’re both still alive. Megan reached to touch Hayley’s shoulder and the top of Gemma’s head. “Call an ambulance,” she pleaded. “And don’t do this. You can’t.”

  Ignoring Megan, Tate stood. “Everything fits. The girls have shown police that they are troubled liars. They claimed to have been chased by Rodney White on the highway that night, yet he was the one who ended up dead. We’ll have it that Rodney White was running a secret cult together with some of our members. And Hayley and Gemma were among his willing acolytes. They left the farm to go and be with him on his property. Forensics is going to find that their ridiculous story about being kept in his aviary is false. And there was no wrestle between the tanker driver and White—the driver will surely tell the police as much. It was Gemma who pushed the bleeding Rodney into the flames.”

  Sophie nodded, but she still looked dubious. “So, the girls plotted to poison everyone here as some kind of tribute to their dead cult leader? How on earth do we pull this off?”

  “There have been rumours of a cult running around here for years. It’s even in that dead psychologist’s files. We can use that to our advantage,” Tate said calmly. “After we carry out the plan, we’ll tell the police that the girls arrived at the farm this morning. We’ll be emphatic that we told them we’d have to contact the police. This only enraged them. Next thing we knew, they’d stolen chemicals from the supply shed and poisoned the lunch. Unfortunately, people died before we had the merest clue what was happening. And afterwards, the girls drank the poison straight, as a suicide gesture to their leader—Rodney.”

  Megan’s breath caught fast. The plan was brutal, unimaginable. But he’d spoken as if this was just some ordinary business meeting.

  “Okay.” Sophie exhaled a long breath. “What do you want me to do? Which poison? The same one that Gemma and Hayley were given?”

  “No,” he said. “It’s too slow. And it must be ingested with food, not injected. We have a large quantity of pentobarbital here. Lots of farms do, to euthanise sick animals. It won’t be questioned that we have it in storage. It’s bitter, but it doesn’t take much to do the job. But give me a minute, if you will. I need to figure out which poison is the best choice and then formulate quantities.”

  He shot a sharp look at Eoin. “You’re looking a bit pale. You’re still with us, right?”

  “Yeah, man. All the way.” Eoin met Tate’s eyes but then looked away.

  Megan could tell that the boy was terrified and struggling to hide it. Because of that, he would be killed too. She guessed that Tate would use Eoin for as long as he needed to and then dispose of him.

  Tate wrote down some things on a notepad, his pencil moving quickly on the page. “Okay, we have things sorted.” He showed Sophie what he’d written. She nodded.

  “Sophie and Freddy,” he said, “listen carefully. Go directly to the supply shed. Select what I’ve written here. Be sure to smash the cupboard to look as if the girls broke into it. Leave some of their hairs about for DNA evidence. Then head to the kitchen. Help with the lunch, ensuring that an exact dose goes into each plate. Dharma won’t question it. She knows we put drugs via eye droppers in every lunch. Get the kitchen hands to serve out all plates. One of you stays in the kitchen and one of you stays in the hall. Ensure that no one so much as has a taste of the food. Tell them you’re going to say a meditation or something before everyone eats. Then have everyone begin eating at precisely the same time. They’ll die quickly.”

  “And then return for Gemma and Hayley?” Sophie asked. She tossed a glance in Megan’s direction. “And her?”

  “Yes,” he told her. “You, Eoin, and Freddy will bring the three of them to the hall. They’ll die in the kitchen. Be sure to get the girls’ fingerprints all over the drug containers. You and Freddy must wear disposable gloves the entire time. Then of course, raise the alarm. Call the police. Sound hysterical. Sophie, you say you were in the office at
the time of the vicious attack by the girls. And Eoin and Freddy, you’ll be fixing machinery in one of the top fields. None of you had any idea what Hayley and Gemma were doing in the kitchen.”

  “How do you know this is all going to work?” said Sophie anxiously.

  “Of course it will work.” A hard edge moved into Tate’s voice. “If you do it right.”

  “What’s your part in it?” Sophie asked him with a slight tone of suspicion. “What are you going to be doing?”

  “I need to prepare this room, in case the police find it,” he told her. “As you said, they’ll be more thorough this time. I’ll have to destroy the recordings. And clean out all the vials and drugs. There isn’t much left. Most of it was already taken away before the police search. Then I have a private flight to catch.”

  Sophie shook her head hotly. “You can’t run out and leave us with this mess.”

  “Learn to shut up,” Freddy told her. “Tate knows what he’s doing. You’re just slowing us down with all the questions.”

  “It’s under control, Sophie,” Tate said. “I have business to attend to. And it fits in well—Hayley and Gemma knew that I was going to be away, and they took their chance to do this terrible thing.” Tate was almost smiling as he unlocked a drawer in the same cabinet that he’d taken the notepad from. He pulled out two handguns, handing them to Sophie and Freddy. “Trust me, you won’t need these. But if they’ll make you feel more secure, perhaps you should take them. You’ve both had enough practice at the range by now.”

  Tate walked Sophie and Freddy across the room, speaking assurances to them in a low voice. Sophie stopped to yank handfuls of hair from Gemma and Hayley’s heads. For a second, her eyes met Megan’s glare.

  Sophie and Freddy vanished up the stairs. Tate opened the door for them.

  “Eoin,” Megan said in a whisper that she hoped Tate couldn’t hear. “He’s going to kill you too. Please. Get help.”

  But Eoin just eyed her coldly.

  The door closed.

  Tate spun around. “Eoin, keep a close eye on Ms Arlotti. Won’t be long now. Everything will be sorted, and we can all move on from this.”