Oliver relaxed. If Neve had pressed, he wouldn’t have felt comfortable letting it go at that. He hoped they were both right. “Cappy Don won’t wait forty-eight hours to look into Kay’s dropping off the map, I assure you. He couldn’t stop me from looking for her if he tried. There were still a few lab techs in the house when I left. I’m assuming someone would’ve mentioned if she’d been forced out the door, right?”
“Two lab guys. One swabbing the floorboards, another fiddling with some equipment in the kitchen. They both said she was freshly showered and in a chipper mood when she waved on her way out this afternoon. Said she’d be back soon. They’ve since cleared out, so there’s no one to tell us when, or if, Kay returns.”
Oliver rubbed his chin. “I’ll stay there tonight, then. In case.” He’d also send officers to canvas the neighborhood and try to track Kay’s movements. Someone should’ve seen her get in a cab or a bus.
“Again?” Neve murmured, a smile evident in her voice. “I knew she liked you. We should’ve bet on it. I love winning.”
His pulse kicked up a notch. If Kay was already discussing him with her friends, well, that had to mean things were pretty serious, right?
Even in the midst of an identity crisis, she had a way of lighting up every moment she inhabited. He wanted to live in those moments with her indefinitely. Last night, an insecure part of himself wouldn’t let go of the possibility that the sex had been a means to an end for Kay—a healing act, a distraction. But maybe not.
The thought filled him with a completely foreign mix of anticipation, giddy excitement, and bone-deep dread. That way lies rejection. A caveman living inside him wanted to go the clubbing route, drag her back to his cave. The sane, modern part of him demanded a meeting of minds; if she didn’t feel the same about him, he wouldn’t force the issue.
No, that was a lie. He’d force it, at least a little. “I better go, Neve. I’m in a meeting...” He gave Molly a dubious look. “Kind of. Afterward, I’ll head to Kay’s. I’ll be there when she gets back.”
“Peachy. And I’ll call Seraphina, let her know the two of you are sharing babysitting duty the next few days. The timing is crap, but Duke loves his dog more than he loves me, so that should give you some idea of how important this is. And you’re right about Kay. She’s smart, and I trust her, but have a care, because an attack like the one she suffered has a way of leaving a mark. When she does come back, do me a favor and don’t mention Hannah. In case it’s nothing, I don’t want her to worry. She’s got enough on her plate.”
Oliver ended the call and turned around at the same time Cappy Don reentered his apartment.
The old man’s eyes were alert and his shoulders rigid. Things were in motion. He hitched his chin at Oliver. “Plainclothes are taking Amos Winston for questioning now. Discreetly. He’ll be held in Mr. Arnell’s office until we get to Free Leaf Concepts. Lab sent a text over while I was on the line. Some plants you two had tested?” His gaze swung between Molly and Oliver. “They’re still mapping the DNA sequence of the super shrooms, but they tested your samples first, hoping to fast track the process, and can confirm that neither are a match.”
Oliver groaned. “Kay’s mystery flower. Has to be. Kay questioned Amos once already. Maybe he’ll be a little more forthcoming with a detective.”
“Let’s hope,” Molly said, rising. “Because if we’re breaking the skin on our undercover operation, we’re about to tip off the whole organization that we’re onto them. We better have the right guy, or it’s for nothing.”
“Speaking of right guys, why don’t we take Brendan now, too?”
Cappy Don held the door open and motioned for them to get moving. “Because we’ve got more to connect Amos. The idea is he gives us enough to make an arrest when we move on Brendan. I want to question that guy behind a mirrored wall.”
It was just another day at Free Leaf Concepts, as far as anyone working there knew—besides Amos, of course—so Oliver and his team, plus two uniformed officers, took the stairs up to Mr. Arnell’s office. Oliver noted Cappy Don’s labored breathing by the time they reached the fourth landing. The price of promotion.
Amos and Mr. Arnell were waiting in strained silence when they arrived. Easton appeared distinctly uncomfortable and lingered near the plainclothes officer standing on guard by the door, while Amos perched on a stool near the drafting table.
Oliver nodded to Cappy Don. “Give me five minutes with him.”
The captain nodded. A single uniformed officer remained after everyone else cleared out. Oliver rolled his shoulders, relaxed his frame as if he were meeting a colleague for a chat over tea, and joined Amos at the table. All of Easton’s work had been stored away. Oliver wondered if he were concerned with proprietary issues or simply shy of his work.
Amos had his lips pressed together, his eyebrows raised high in a perpetual expression of surprise. Oliver scanned his features, searching for nervous tics and other signs of distress. There were none. Whatever Amos may be, scared wasn’t one of them, although he seemed slightly uneasy. He’d probably never been escorted from his labs by a member of the LRPD before.
Oliver smiled benignly. “Interesting work you do, Mr. Winston.”
“That right, Mr. Pierce? We misters now, that’s strange. Best you tell me what this is all about. I plan on having a picture-perfect salon design waiting for Kay when she gets back. That’s a lot of work.”
“It is,” Oliver agreed, nodding sincerely. “For now, we just need to ask you some questions about your old lab partner from Georgia Tech.”
Amos sat back in his chair easily. He was either genuinely unconcerned or a mastermind of body language. “Brendan Berkley? He works here, you know. Ask him anything you want yourself.” His black eyes trailed a curious path over Oliver. “Always knew there was something about you. You a little too smart for that dumb job you got. Should’ve figured.”
“I’m flattered. But all the same, your answers would mean a lot to me, Amos. We know you scrubbed your Georgia Tech classes from your transcripts and résumé. Can you tell me a little more about that?”
“Yeah. I suppose I could.” Amos nodded and relaxed even further. He gazed around the room, squinting and nodding as he recalled the details and spoke them without hesitation. “See, I had trouble with a girl. The kind that a man can’t properly defend himself against. She wanted me, I didn’t want her. She made up some bad stuff. Couldn’t be proved, lab tests were inconclusive, so I think she had a friend inside, because rightly done, those tests should’ve cleared me. A man might assume they weren’t rightly done, feel me? I laid my assumptions out for the dean, and we came to an understanding. I left the school, got a fresh start with University of Arkansas.” He stopped and folded his hands neatly. “There you go.”
Oliver didn’t pause. “Brendan’s roommate tipped us off to your connection. Old lab partners. What did you study?”
“Mycology, mostly.”
It surprised Oliver how quickly Amos dropped the term. He scratched his chin. “Kay sent you to Capital Acres not long ago. She had questions about some plants. Three of them, one she couldn’t identify.”
He scoffed. “None she could identify, you mean.” He wagged his finger at Oliver. “Now, that makes a man nervous, but sometimes you got to educate your boss. Kay’s a good boss; she took it on the chin. But she ought to have known the plants she was asking about were toxic. I went looking for the other plant she described, but Pattie told me she didn’t have nothing like that, and certainly not growing with other toxic stuff. I figured Kay must’ve got confused. I know she ain’t what her résumé said she is.”
“Can you tell me how she described the plant? Could you identify it if you were given open access to all the greenhouses at Capital Acres?”
Now that they were working out loud, so to speak, Oliver didn’t doubt Cappy Don’s next move would be to get Mr. Arnell’s blessing to do a full search of the greenhouses. No more tripping over t
hemselves trying to find probable cause. It was frustrating to know they’d had the director of the company in their pocket all along. He could’ve given them access to Capital Acres anytime. But then, Oliver was forced to admit, he couldn’t have done so without tipping his hand.
Amos finally grew restless, sitting up suddenly and giving Oliver a pointed stare. “Look, man, what is all this? You a cop, I got that, so this must be some deep shit I’m wading through. You want my life history, or you want some real answers? I got nothing to hide.” He lifted his hands in surrender and waited like an impatient teacher for Oliver to make his next move.
Oliver blew out a sigh. He tapped the drafting table and glared at Amos. “Someone working at Free Leaf Concepts is using the company’s facilities and resources to create genetically modified psychedelics, drugs still being tweaked and perfected. Drugs that have killed people and landed many, many more in hospital emergency rooms. You can see why you and Brendan having a secret connection related to your study into fungus, of all things, might make law enforcement a tad curious.”
Amos sat up slowly, shaking his head, palms still out as if to hold back a tide. His body language was genuine.
Oliver felt a thin tendril of panic lace through him. Amos didn’t exhibit the signs of a man with something to hide. He appeared concerned, and slightly more nervous now he realized he was obviously a person of interest, but no more so than was understandable.
“This ain’t me, man. I don’t make drugs. I studied fungus for a short while, but Brendan and I, we moved on pretty quick. There’s more interesting plants to pick apart. Besides, I mentioned that I’d studied mycology to Kay ages ago. I wouldn’t throw that out off the cuff if I wanted to hide it. It just ain’t relevant, that’s all. Nobody looking for some high-end landscaping job wants fungus in their flowerbeds. I mean, there was one time Mr. Arnell’s niece wanted some weird stuff for a window display, but—”
“Brendan,” Oliver reminded him sharply. “You and Brendan. What else did you two study?”
“Man, that’s it! I swear. I was studying orchidology by the time I transferred. I didn’t know till years later that Brendan moved out here. As for us knowing each other, hell, wasn’t no secret. Brit was there, too, sometimes. She mostly took notes, and later I heard she dropped out of her degree program. Three of us caught up after Free Leaf took her on, but seeing as we didn’t hang on the regular, there wasn’t much to say. It didn’t cross my mind to put out a memo that we all knew each other in college. It’s a small world for people in certain circles. Ain’t like the city is swarming with people who studied plant biology. Makes sense to me she ended up working here, same as Brendan and myself. That’s it. That’s the whole truth, nothing but the truth, so help me God.”
“Why didn’t Brit or Brendan complete their degree programs?”
“Brit, I don’t know. Honest, I didn’t know her that well. Still don’t. But Brendan earned a degree, just not one Free Leaf Concepts is interested in. He got himself a bachelor’s in pharmaceutical science.”
A quiet calm descended over Oliver as information slid into place.
Brit Lars, the front desk receptionist. The only employee besides Brendan Berkley, with his strategically placed office, who would know every time Mr. Arnell left the building via the stairs. She also had access to e-mails, memos, and messages between employees. Of course she did. It was her job to ensure their delivery. She was a failsafe messenger.
Oliver stood so swiftly, the stool nearly fell over beneath him. “Thanks, Amos. I have to run. You’re clear, by the way.”
In the hallway outside Mr. Arnell’s office, tension was thick in the air around the group waiting on Oliver’s findings. He grasped Cappy Don’s shoulder. “Amos Winston is clean. I know who we want. I can’t prove it yet, though. Someone find me Brendan Berkley. I need to speak to him immediately.”
* * * *
Kay hated the white canvas tennis shoes. Hated them like she’d hated nothing else for a very long time.
Funny, the things a person could forget. Like how when it rained up in the mountains, the mud could get ankle-deep. Unlike in the city, there was not a network of concrete pathways and drains, making it possible to keep one’s feet relatively dry in a downpour.
Easy to forget, also, that a pair of white—of all colors in the world—canvas tennis shoes were as good as no shoes at all when muddy water seeped through the fabric. Kay’s feet were wet and cold, her heart colder still. Cold and bruised.
At his core, Finn wasn’t the kind of man who let things go. But when he finally released something, he did so thoroughly. Kay was irrevocably one of those things. Finn hadn’t just let go. He’d flung her to the other side of the moon.
She’d arrived in Red Hill yesterday, got herself a room at the quaint inn on the main drag, and shored up her courage with the mini bar and bad television through the night.
This morning, she’d dressed and explored the town, asking questions until she knew exactly when and where to find Finn Welk. He’d been at the bar just after three, as promised by the barber. Molly had been right about him.
Kay knew from the palpable unease inside the establishment the moment she walked inside that every single patron knew exactly who she was, and what had happened between her and Finn. He’d drunkenly told the tale a hundred times to the same crowd. Their hostility had forced her to ask Finn to leave with her. Probably the biggest mistake she’d made, outside of leaving Little Rock without telling anyone where she was going yesterday. Since he’d still been sober, Finn offered to drive while she talked. A ride would keep his head clear, he’d claimed. So they’d ridden down rutted dirt roads and old country lanes while Kay did her best to explain why, exactly, she’d allowed their relationship to end as it had.
When she was done talking, Finn had stopped the truck, asked Kay to step out, and then peeled away, leaving her stranded on a muddy backroad in the middle of nowhere and a storm cloud bearing down, with only a vague sense of which way was which.
For the first hour of walking, she’d cried.
She was done crying now. She was all cried out. An empty tank. A shell, really. She felt hollow and exhausted. Still, she trudged on, one step in front of the other, hoping a sign would pop up and give her an idea of how far she was from town. Or from somewhere. Anywhere. A farmhouse, a ranch, a cabin.
At least Finn had exacted some degree of revenge. Being left stranded in a storm on a dirt mountain road assuaged her guilt somewhat. And helped put it in perspective. Perhaps some things were best left secrets.
Her anger fascinated her. Maybe in the grand scheme of things, Finn deserved a little payback. Maybe the truth had caused him more pain than the lie. But every time Kay imagined Oliver in Finn’s shoes, she knew without a doubt he’d never have taken his revenge this way. Or at all.
She cried out when a half bar sprung to life on her cell phone. She quickly dialed Neve. Neve would get in touch with Cherish Rancourt. Cherish was a member of the Red Hill Historical Society. She had lived in Red Hill all her life. If anyone could find Kay from a vague description of the turns Finn had taken, it was Cherish. Or her son, Krandall. Neve’s phone went straight to voicemail. So did Duke’s. Kay bit her lip. With Seraphina filling in for her at Free Leaf, she only had one person left to call.
Oliver answered out of breath. “Kay! Your parents are ready to call the police and report you missing. Neve and I agreed we’d give you twenty-four hours, but I’ve been worried as hell. Where are you?”
Kay scanned the trees overhead. Steely gray clouds were crowding together and threatening more rain. “I’d sure love to know. Listen, you need to make a call for me. High Mountain Ranch in Red Hill. I’m in the middle of nowhere, running on a half bar. I have no way to look up the number or I’d call myself. Ask for Cherish, but Krandall or Miles will do. I need them to look for me.”
“Wait...” The line crackled. “...know...where you are?”
“You’re b
reaking up. Just listen. I passed an ancient road marker maybe a half mile back. White square with an undiscernible number. I think I’m headed west. The road is predominantly straight, mostly rutted, but shored up recently where creeks run underneath. I can’t be more than twenty minutes out from Red Hill. Remember, you want Cherish, Krandall, or—”
The phone beeped in her ear as the call was dropped. Shit. If Oliver caught at least half of her description, she might be found before dark. And since she’d given a location, she now had to remain in the same spot. She searched for a tree stump near the road and settled in for a tedious, tortuous wait. If no one came for her, it was going to be a long night.
An hour passed before she heard the rumble of an engine. She was dizzy with relief at the sight of Krandall Beels behind the wheel of his old pick-up.
He reached across and helped her wrench open the passenger door. He had a towel down on the seat already, and offered another once she was settled. She’d managed to fling mud all over her clothes from stomping down the lane. “Your friend, Oliver, he’ll be in Red Hill by the time we get back to town. Less you wanna come stay out at the ranch?”
“I have a room downtown, but I appreciate the offer.” She needed cell service, which was spotty out at the ranch. “I can’t thank you enough for coming to find me, Krandall. How on earth did you get here so fast?”
He grunted, a customary response. “Finn told anyone who’d listen what he done. Big joke, he says. People ’round here know you, Miss Bing. Didn’t take long for someone to hear word and give my mama a ring. She radioed your friend’s details as I was headed out. Thanks to Finn’s big mouth, I already had a good idea. I coulda told ya not to give the Welk boy no more of your mind.”
She sighed and carefully removed her shoes. The sky was darkening with twilight, and suddenly she didn’t want anything more than a soft bed and white noise. “Thanks again, Krandall.”
Krandall waved away her offer of gas money, then more adamantly refused her offer to renovate any room at the ranch, free of charge. He answered her thanks with a series of grunts and left her at the inn’s front entrance.
Love on the Vine Page 22
