by Blake Pierce
His boss, George McHugh, had said he really liked caring for plants; that he had a green thumb. Even years ago, back in Elkhurst, he had mowed lawns.
Then she recalled the language of the letters. They were littered with terms like “pruned,” “grow,” “uprooted,” “soil,” “weeds,” and “fertilizing.” She even recalled a reference to a “hothouse” which now seemed obvious in retrospect.
He loved gardening and plants. What better place to keep Jessica than an isolated, out-of-the-way greenhouse within walking distance of his apartment? It wasn’t soundproof, but somehow she suspected Petrossian had found a way around that.
She got out of the car and approached a middle-aged woman who looked like the manager of the nursery. She had a tight perm and eyeglasses that hung from a chain on her neck.
“What’s up with that one greenhouse behind the fence?” Keri asked.
“What?” the woman said distractedly as she stared at the smoke rising in the air. “This isn’t really a good time.”
“Ma’am,” Keri in her most authoritative voice, “I need your full attention. I’m with the Los Angeles Police Department and I’m asking you about the small greenhouse that abuts this property. Is it part of your business?”
The woman turned to her. She was still irritated but one look at Keri’s flashing eyes and she decided not make a fuss.
“It still belongs to the owner of the nursery,” she said. “But it had some leaks and water damage so he stopped using it. A local man offered cash to use it, said he’d fix it up and pay monthly rent. He only asked if he could put up a privacy fence so customers wouldn’t mistakenly walk in there.”
“Have you ever been inside?”
“Once or twice to collect the rent,” the woman answered, becoming more interested with each passing question, “why?”
“What’s it like in there?” Keri demanded, answering the question with one of her own. “You see anything unusual?”
“No. He did a nice job. It’s just a greenhouse with a lot of plants. He’s more into tropical vines than I would be. But I think he likes to experiment. Can you tell me what this is about?”
“Just one more question. Is his name Johnny Peters?”
“Yes,” the woman said. “You’re starting to scare me.”
“Listen. I need you to close the nursery. You and all your employees and customers should leave the property. Do it quickly and quietly. Go down to the local coffee shop or something.”
“Is this on the level?” the woman asked suspiciously.
“It’s on the level,” Keri said, taking her gun out of her holster, knowing it would have the desired effect. “Johnny Peters is very dangerous and you don’t want to be anywhere near here when I talk to him.”
That seemed to make an impact, as the woman stepped away from her, turned, and shooed everyone to their cars. She started to lock the nursery’s front door but Keri stopped her.
“Is there any way back there other than through the fence door?” she asked.
“I guess you could go around the back of the property and climb one of the hedges. They’re high though.”
“Thank you,” Keri said. “Now lock up and get out of here.”
As the woman closed the main office and scurried to her car, Keri returned to her own vehicle and opened the trunk. She attached the small pistol inside to her ankle holster and put on the department-issued bulletproof vest Hillman had forgotten to collect from her yesterday. She had forgotten it at Petrossian’s apartment and been lucky she hadn’t needed it. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.
Then she walked along the fence line to the back of the nursery property. She saw the hedges the woman was talking about. They were high but had thick branches that she was pretty sure she could negotiate to climb over the wall.
Before she did, she took out her phone and typed a text. It read:
Found abductor’s location. Small greenhouse adjacent to Ocean View Nursery at Centinela & Rose. Not far from his apartment. Suspect name is Johnny Peters aka Jason Petrossian. Concerned he knows he’s been made and may take drastic action. Evacuated employees. Going in. Silencing phone. Need backup.
She sent it to Ray, Jamie, Hillman, Edgerton, Suarez, Patterson, and even Frank Brody. There was no way to hide her involvement now. She was committed, no matter the fallout. She might go down for insubordination but if it meant saving Jessica Rainey, it was a small price to pay.
Keri silenced her phone, holstered her gun, and began to scale the most sturdy-looking hedge. The branches held up and she was able to peek over the fence. The greenhouse was only fifteen feet away. No one was in sight and she couldn’t hear anything unusual.
As quickly and quietly as she could, she climbed over the wall and made the six-foot drop to the ground. The earth was hard because of the cold and her knees rattled. She thought they might buckle and she’d collapse. But despite the ache, they held steady.
She pulled out her gun again and carefully made her away around to the front of the greenhouse, taking care not to step on any of the crinkly dead leaves on the ground. When she got around to the front she saw that the door was slightly open. She knelt down as low as she could get and approached slowly.
When she was right outside the door, she held still for a moment, straining to hear anything other than the wind, the chimes from the nearby nursery, and the distant sound of sirens, hopefully from an ambulance rushing Winchester, Ray, and Jamie to the nearest hospital.
She slowed her breathing and noticed that when she did, her exhales were visible in the chilly air. With her left index finger, she pulled the door open slightly, listening for any creak. There was the slightest dull whine, barely audible even to her.
She was in a vulnerable position now and knew she had to move fast. Without waiting to think, she pushed the door open hard with her left hand and rolled into the greenhouse at what she hoped was an unconventional angle. She immediately scurried behind a huge pot and surveyed the space.
No one was immediately visible and she still heard nothing. As expected, the greenhouse was filled with plants of various sizes and colors. She had no idea what any of them were and didn’t really care. She was just looking for movement from behind any of them.
She made her way around the edge of the place, staying near the larger plants, looking for anyone hiding behind others. At one point, she bumped into a small stool, almost knocking over a can of wasp and bee spray. She managed to right it before it toppled to the ground. After covering the entire length of the space, she felt fairly confident that he wasn’t in here.
She delicately stepped out into the center of the greenhouse, fully aware that this place was even more likely to be booby-trapped than his apartment. Now that she finally had a clear line of sight, Keri noticed something she’d overlooked before.
What had initially appeared to be a stone work table in the middle of the room was actually something else. She stepped closer and saw manacles attached near the four corners of the rectangular table.
There were dark bloodstains at one end, about where Keri imagined a prone person’s neck might rest. The realization of what was in front of her hit her in a wave and she fought back the urge to retch. This was a sacrificial altar.
As she looked away, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Peering in closer, she saw what appeared to be small droplets of fairly fresh blood on the edges of the altar and more, just above the dark bloodstains, where a person’s head might be positioned. They were only just starting to dry. Keri guessed they were less than ten minutes old.
The amount of blood was too small to be from a knife slitting or even poking into skin. And then she saw more of them. They were on the ground next to the altar with even more along a line that led toward a thick clump of vines, apparently the ones the nursery manager had mentioned.
They did seem unusual compared with everything else in the greenhouse, thick and curled, like green snakes. And they had sharp thorns, c
learly the source of the blood droplets. They must have been difficult to cultivate and maintain. They were so lush that it was hard to see through them into the shadows beyond.
As that thought passed through her mind, she involuntarily lifted her gun and pointed it toward the vines. They were dense enough that someone could easily have hidden in them and come out behind her when she had been studying the altar. She silently chastised herself for not noticing that earlier.
But no one had come out. And now she was aiming a gun into the darkness. If he was in there, he’d given up his tactical advantage.
Or has he? Is this part of his trap?
“Come out with your hands up,” she ordered in a voice barely louder than a whisper. There was no movement or sound in front of her.
She took out her pen flashlight and shined it into the darkness, looking for any tripwires or indications of a false floor. Seeing none, she stepped carefully into the thick, ropy foliage, squinting her eyes almost shut to avoid them being poked by the thorns. It was only when she felt the thorns ripping into her skin as she moved forward that she realized they might have been poisoned. It wouldn’t have been difficult to dab some of them with a chemical that could incapacitate or even kill her.
Too late to worry about that now.
She moved forward another step to discover she had reached the end of the vine tunnel. She was at the back wall of the greenhouse. But something seemed off. The wall in front of her was too thick to be the polyethylene sheeting that covered the rest of the greenhouse.
She reached out with her flashlight and gently tapped the wall. It was metal, something very thick, maybe even soundproof. She shined the flashlight over the middle area of the wall and saw what she was looking for—a small lever that was clearly some kind of handle. The huge piece of metal was a door, one that almost certainly led underground, which explained how Petrossian was able to create a soundproof environment in a cheap greenhouse.
Pleased with herself, Keri put away the flashlight, got a better grip on her gun, and reached for the handle. She took a deep a deep, calming breath and allowed the stillness and silence to envelop her. Only it wasn’t completely silent.
She was just about to open the door when she noticed the faintest noise coming from somewhere above her. It almost sounded like a dull buzzing. She took out the penlight again and pointed it up. Above her was some sort of wooden roof, well hidden among the vines. She moved the light along the wood until the point where it met the door. That’s when she saw it.
Protruding from the wooden roof was a tiny nail head, no longer than a centimeter. But it was close to the door and would surely catch on the top of it when opened. And that would force down the door of what was apparently a trap roof, releasing whatever was quietly buzzing inside. Remembering the spray she almost knocked over, she needed only one guess as to what it might be.
Keri briefly considered trying to pull out the nail head. But she worried that doing so might open the trap roof. Besides, there was no guarantee that he hadn’t created backups in case she found that one. Frustrated, she stepped out of the short tunnel and back into the main section of the greenhouse.
I don’t have time for this. He must know about the raid on his apartment and the explosion. He has to assume that we’ll canvass the area and discover that he rents this place. There’s not enough time to be so careful. I could already be too late to help Jessica.
Keri walked over to the wasp spray and shook it. It was about half full. She looked around, desperate for some solution, when her eyes fell on a roll of string. Glancing around, she noticed pieces of it all over the greenhouse, being used to pull some plant branches away from each other so they’d grow straight.
If it’s strong enough for that, maybe I can use it for something else.
She rolled out a ribbon of the string about ten feet long, cut it with some shears, and returned to the vine tunnel. She placed the spray on the floor near the entrance and stepped back into the thorny cave.
Using her penlight to guide her, she gently twisted the middle section of the string around the nail head several times. Then, holding the two ends of the string carefully, she backed up to the mouth of the tunnel, holstered her gun, and picked up the spray can again.
She got a good grip on the string, wrapping it around her fingers. Then, refusing to think too much about the consequences, she yanked hard. Almost immediately she heard a click and a squeal as the hinged roof trapdoor opened. A moment later there was thud, followed by loud, angry-sounding buzzing.
Keri took a step and waited, knowing what was coming and yet, still terrified.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Keri wanted to run for it but stood her ground, knowing she’d have more success if all her tiny enemies were in one concentrated area. It was taking longer than she expected, as if the little bastards were lost in the vines and couldn’t find their way out. And then suddenly, they did.
A massive swarm of bees emerged from the tunnel seemingly all at once, so thick in the air that they created their own dark cloud. They converged toward Keri as she lifted the can and sprayed them in a long arc from front to back.
She saw dozens of the little monsters fall immediately, but the others temporarily dispersed and, seemingly even more livid, swarmed about, trying to regroup. Keri took advantage of their confusion to run for the door. She grabbed a heavy, empty pot along the way. Once the door was halfway open, she propped it with the pot and took a few steps back, waiting for the next inevitable onslaught.
It only took a few seconds before they began flying outside. But because the door was only partially open, she was once again able to hit them in one tight pack. They poured out for a good ten seconds and she sprayed them the whole time.
Finally the horde diminished to a trickle. Keri stopped spraying, stepped back into the greenhouse, kicked the pot away, and closed the door. Looking around, she saw that there were still some bees inside but only a few were still flying with any sense of purpose and they seemed more focused on escaping than attacking.
She was tempted to douse each of them individually but knew she needed the remaining spray for the hive, which she assumed had thudded to the ground in the vine tunnel and would still be housing some additional soldiers.
Stepping over to the vine entrance, she flashed the light inside. The hive was indeed there, lying smashed like honeycombed watermelon. There were bees buzzing desperately around but not as many as she’d expected. She stepped forward, and, holding the crook of her other elbow up to her mouth, nose, and eyes, she sprayed the hive until the can was empty. Then she kicked it into the corner and stepped forward again.
She felt more stings but this time wasn’t sure if they were from thorns or bees. She didn’t care anymore. She put the penlight away, took out her gun, and pulled on the lever of the metal door. It opened easily and, to her surprise, silently.
She stepped to the side of the entrance where she was out still out of sight and peeked in. The doorway did indeed lead down. There was a steep flight of wooden stairs, lit only by single naked light bulb hanging from an overhead string. She could see just beyond the bottom of the stairs, where what appeared to be a tunnel extended out into the darkness.
Keri was about to step down when she had a thought. As quickly as she could, she took the string she’d used to yank the nail head and wrapped it around the metal hinge of the roof trapdoor. Then she took the other end and tied it to the handle lever so the metal door stayed propped open. That way, she and Jessica would be able to make a quicker escape. It would also allow any law enforcement who found the greenhouse to locate the underground entrance without searching forever.
Satisfied that it was strong enough to hold, she started down the stairs with her eyes focused on the bottom and the tunnel beyond. Even stepping carefully, she found the fourth step to be a little rickety and quickly stepped down to the next one to regain her balance.
The hinge of the fifth step flexed, then popped straight, turni
ng into a vertical slab of wood. The step itself disappeared. Keri realized she had fallen for another one of Petrossian’s traps. But there was nothing she could do about it as she lost her balance and careened forward. She hurtled the final ten feet to the ground, her fall broken intermittently by the remaining wooden steps.
Sprawled out on her stomach at the foot of the steps, Keri waited a beat, preparing to deal with the pain of whatever injuries she might have just suffered. Her knee throbbed where it had slammed a step on the way down and her palms felt raw where she’d extended them to take the brunt of her landing. But other than that, she seemed functional. Apparently the soft dirt floor had protected her from anything worse.
She looked around in the dull light, searching for the gun she’d dropped when she’d needed both hands free to brace for the fall. But most of the tunnel was in shadow. It could be anywhere.
Acutely aware of how defenseless she was, Keri reached down for the small pistol in her ankle holster. As she was removing it, she heard movement in the darkness ahead of her. As quickly as she could, she freed the gun and twisted to point it in the direction of the sound.
But she wasn’t quick enough. Just as she was extending her arm forward, but before she could pull the trigger, a body rushed forward and a foot kicked her hand hard, sending the pistol flying off somewhere behind her.
She tried to roll away from the figure so she could buy enough time to get to her feet. But her back jammed up against the bottom step, giving her nowhere to go. The figure was coming at her again. While she couldn’t see his face, she was able to see that his hands were empty. They were balled up into tight fists headed straight for her face.
Keri was in an awkward position, lying on her side, trapped by the stairs at her back. Still, she managed to raise her right arm to deflect the first punch. She wasn’t as fortunate with the second one, which slammed down hard on her right cheekbone.
