Shane lifted his right hand as he looked up at the looming Krohn Conservatory. Rare autumn sunlight glinted off the massive glass and metal structure. The day wasn’t working out quite how he’d planned, though the night before had been really nice, and he was glad that he was able to drag Quinn out with him. The previous day had largely been spent trying to track down his dad’s friend while Quinn had been locked on his computer trying to research the email address attached to the message as well as working on his program for searching through social media comments regarding the mayor. Neither of them had gotten the chance to dig into the names mentioned in the email.

Those damn names were bothering him. They felt familiar but wrong in a way that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He’d managed a five-second search on his phone of Danglars and gotten nothing useful. Then his dad’s friend finally got a hold of him, agreeing to meet at the Conservatory. He couldn’t pass that up. The hacker kept using Brenda Spring’s name, so it seemed like a damn good idea to dig into the woman just a little bit. At least he felt useful when Quinn was doing all the computer work.

Trees and bushes reached up along the wide sidewalk leading to the building, while autumn mums in orange, red, and white filled the smaller beds around the wooden benches.

Eden Park was a quiet place in the city—somehow managing to be close to downtown Cincinnati but escaping the general noise and rush of cars. Just a little haven tucked away, and Krohn Conservatory was the crown jewel. The enormous greenhouse was home to a collection of thousands of exotic plants and trees, offering Cincinnatians a glimpse into a different place, thousands of miles from home. Maybe a lush, tropical rainforest or an arid desert.

Pulling open the door, he smiled at the old art deco touches in the metal door handle and decorations edging the building. He followed Quinn inside and quickly paid the small fee for both of them, then pocketed the receipt. It would be marked off as a business expense, but if he was remembering correctly, there were a couple of secret spots in the rainforest that he could sneak off to with Quinn after their meeting with Rose.

“I’m wondering if you can help me. Do you know where I can find Rose Lonneman?”

The young woman blinked large brown eyes up at him, surprised that he’d asked her anything, keeping her from the school textbook spread out in front of her. “I think Rose is here today. They were planning to do some pruning in the Tropical House, but you might want to check in the visitor center.”

“Thanks,” Shane said with a wink and then led the way into the atrium. Warm, humid air immediately hit him, a sharp contrast to the crisp October temperatures outside. Shedding his light jacket, he looked back to find Quinn standing in the middle of the atrium, his eyes wide and a little sad as they swept over the tall structure and up to the shining windows blocked in places by thick, dark green leaves. He just looked…lost.

“Have you been here before?”

Quinn flinched as if Shane’s voice snapped him out of whatever memory his mind had become locked in. “Yeah.” The single word came out rough and he cleared his throat, flashing Shane an embarrassed smile. “Years ago, with my mom. She loved to come here to see the seasonal exhibits. I liked the butterflies during the spring.” He turned to the exhibit hall on his right and took a tentative step forward. “I’d spend hours in that room with her, trying to get one of each of the kinds of butterflies to land on my hand. But Mom loved the Christmas display. We’d come at least once a week to look at the decorations. It was…peaceful.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Shane said, tamping down memories of his own mother. He didn’t want to think about her now. Not when Quinn was sharing some little bit of himself.

“Did you come here as a kid?”

“Maybe once or twice.” Shane gave a small shrug, and then his smile widened into something a little more wicked. “Came here a couple of times on dates.”

If Quinn caught his innuendo, he never showed it. His eyes were once again turned to the exhibit hall and…“Is that a train?” he asked, already walking toward the room.

Shane grinned because he just couldn’t stop himself. They were there to question Rose Lonneman, but they could take a few minutes to wander through the conservatory if it made Quinn happy. Shane strolled across the atrium, following Quinn into the exhibit hall that was a medium-sized room with a ten-foot glass ceiling. The middle of the room was open while along the walls were plants and trees with little trains running around them. A stunning replica of the Roebling Suspension Bridge made of tree branches spanned the room with it set high enough that they could easily walk under it as trains crossed from one side of the room to the other. And interspersed among the train tracks were handmade replicas of the city’s most well-known buildings.

“Whoa,” Shane breathed. He turned slowly in the middle of the room, trying to take in the arrangement of flowers and trees and trains all set against the soft burble of water from somewhere within the room as if a little stream was just passing through.

“I love these trains and the buildings. Look!” Quinn rushed over to a miniature version of the P&G towers. The arbor was missing from the display, but Shane knew that Quinn was also thinking of their first kiss there when he glanced up at Shane with a little smirk.

“This is really amazing.”

“How long do you think it takes to set this up?”

“A few weeks…but it feels like you’re never really done, even after the exhibit opens,” replied a soft voice behind them.

Shane and Quinn turned at the same time to find a short, slender woman with steel-gray hair pulled back in a loose bun on the top of her head watching them. She was wearing a smock covered in tulips over a dark green T-shirt with the logo for the Cincinnati Parks Commission.

“Mrs. Lonneman?” Shane asked.

“Rose, please.” Her smile spread as she descended the two stairs leading into the exhibit room and walked toward them.

“How did you know?” Quinn asked.

“Word travels fast through the grapevine,” she said with a jaunty smirk. Then she added, “Kelley texted me from the ticket booth that someone asked for me. How can I help you?”

Shane pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it over to the older woman as he shoved his wallet back into his pocket. “My name is Shane Stephens, and I’m a private investigator with The Merleau Detection Agency. We talked briefly on the phone. This is Quinn Lake with Ward Security. We’ve been hired by Gerald Spring to look into a minor matter.”

Rose’s head popped up from where she was looking over his business card. “Oh, is he okay? Did something happen to the children?”

“I can’t really discuss the case, to protect my client, but I can tell you that he and the children are fine.”

A heavy sigh of relief left Rose as she dropped her hand to her breast and slumped her shoulders. “That’s so good to hear.”

“Did you happen to know Mr. Spring’s wife, Brenda?”

“Oh, yes! We frequently volunteered together here at the Conservatory on Thursdays and Sundays, though I think she was here more often than that during the week.”

Shane took a moment to quickly glance around the room before smiling gently down at the woman while at the same time fighting to hide the buzz of excitement that was ripping through him. “Do you have a moment to chat with us?” He motioned toward a bench in the far corner of the room, tucked underneath the boughs of a lemon tree.

“Of course.”

Letting Rose precede him, Shane gave a little nod to Quinn, who dropped back a bit, pretending to look at the displays while remaining within earshot of their conversation. Shane sat down on the bench next to Rose, placing his elbows on his knees and folding his hands together.

“Can you tell me about Mrs. Spring? Did you know her long?”

“Brenda was the sweetest woman I have ever met,” Rose started, pausing for a second to shake her head. “It broke my heart when I heard that she’d passed in that horrible accident. We met here, actually. I had just retired from teaching, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. My husband suggested volunteering here since I loved the old place so much and needed to get out of the house at least a few days a week.”

“Did Brenda start here at the same time?” Shane carefully asked, drawing Rose back to their topic.

“Oh no. She’d been volunteering here for years. She loved the history of this place and knew each flower and tree as if they were her own children. She led the committee that redesigned the water features in the Tropical House, and she was behind the fundraising for the new bridge in the Palm House. She also worked on rounding up new art for display each season. She believed in showcasing the talents of the local artists.”

“Do you know if she was particularly close with any other volunteers or employees here?”

Rose pursed her lips together as she stared at the terra-cotta brown floor. “Kate Masters, but she was just a sweet and friendly person. She talked with everyone who worked with her.”

“Were you and Brenda close?”

“Fairly close, you could say. We always worked the same rooms when we were here on the same days. Met for lunch a few times before our shifts. Oh, and when my husband was recovering from his hernia surgery, she stopped by the house, dropping off this wonderful casserole and stew to help with dinners since I couldn’t get out.”

“Did she ever mention to you that she was unhappy in her marriage? Or maybe that she was having trouble with her husband?”

“Oh no! Never,” Rose said on a horrified gasp. “Now, she didn’t talk about her husband much, but then not long after we met, he was elected mayor. You couldn’t expect her to talk about such an important man. We didn’t gossip.”

“Of course not. I didn’t mean to imply,” Shane quickly backpedaled and Rose relaxed again.

“She talked more about her kids. She was so proud of them. Glad they were in a good school and had friends.”

“So you’d say she was happy…”

“Yes…”

“But?”

Rose took in a deep breath and then slowly released it. “I don’t think it was that she was unhappy. But there were times where she seemed…tired. Melancholy. You know what I mean?”

“I think so.”

“I always thought it was because her husband’s job was so stressful. She probably didn’t see him as much as she’d like. But she had the kids and she loved this place so much.”

“Do you happen to have a picture of her I could see?”

“I don’t know…I—oh! Actually, she sent me a copy of one that we took not long before she passed. It was a little party they had for the volunteers right before they revealed the annual holiday display.” Rose stood and pulled her smartphone out of her pocket. With surprisingly nimble fingers, she dug through the various screens, searching for the picture.

With a sad sigh, she turned the screen toward Shane. “Here we go.”

The picture was taken in that exact spot with Rose and another woman sitting on the bench, while four people stood behind it. “That’s Sharon Turnbull, the director,” Rose said, pointing to the woman on the bench next to Rose. “And you’ve met Kelley already.” She was the first from the left, standing right next to Brenda. “And that’s Dr. Kate Masters. She’s the chief horticulturist here, but her specialty is orchids,” she explained, pointing to the woman on the other side of Brenda. Rose paused again and Shane didn’t miss the sad smile that pulled at her thin lips. “Those two…they were just two peas in a pod. Brenda was the only person that could get Kate to laugh. But then, Brenda just had a way with people. Austin adored her,” she said, pointing again at the one man in the picture who was standing beside Dr. Masters.

“Would you mind sending me that picture?” Shane said.

“Of course.”

Shane quickly supplied his phone number so that she could text it over to him.

“Did Mrs. Spring send that picture to you via text or email?” Quinn suddenly asked. His voice caused both of them to snap their heads up, reminding them he was still close by.

“Umm…email actually. She had it taken with her camera rather than her phone. She emailed it to me a few days later.”

“Would you mind giving me her old email address?” Shane asked.

“I…guess not…” Rose hesitated.

“I specialize in Internet security. I just want to make sure that it has been properly shut down for her husband,” Quinn said.

“Oh, that makes sense.” Rose nodded and texted Shane the email address after sending over the picture.

Shane had to fight back the urge to kiss Quinn for that quick excuse. He didn’t believe it to be the truth for a second, but it was enough to settle Rose’s concerns.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Rose asked.

“No, your information helps me a great deal.” Shane smoothly rose and extended his hand to the older woman, assisting her back to her feet. “If you can think of anything that you might wish to share, you have my card and my phone number. Please feel free to contact me.”

Rose wished them a good day and left the exhibit hall. Shane watched through the open doorway as she walked back toward the Tropical House on the opposite side of the Conservatory.

“Exactly how helpful was she?” Quinn asked as he came to stand next to Shane.

“No fucking clue,” he muttered. His shoulders slumped under the growing weight of his case. “We need to go back to the office, where I can make some notes and think. Between that new threat and Rose’s comments, maybe we can brainstorm some ideas. What about the email address?”

Quinn’s grin was hopeful. “It’s not the same one that I got from her husband, which is a good sign. That one had been shut down and wiped after her death. This one…maybe this one he didn’t know about. I need a little time to see if I can get into it.”

“Sounds like we’ve both got some work to get done.”

Quinn’s lips twisted. “And then maybe a little fun…?”

“Oh, so much dirty fun,” Shane agreed, his voice nearly a growl.

Chuckling, Quinn led the way back to the atrium. He paused in the center of the room and slowly turned around, taking in the massive overhead windows, the thick green forest in the Palm House, and the warm buttery tan marble floors.

Shane bumped Quinn’s shoulder with his arm. “Do you want to wander around for a bit?”

“Nah,” Quinn said, quickly shaking his head. “I’ll come back some other time. I want to get started on the new leads we’ve got.”

Shane wanted to say that it could wait a few minutes, but Quinn was already walking toward the front door. With a shrug, he pulled on his jacket and followed.

When they got outside and were walking back to his car, his stomach growled. Maybe heading out then was a good idea. They could snag some food on the way back to the office, eat, chat, and then dive back into work for a little while.

“You wanna grab—” Shane stopped midsentence as his eye caught on a small, slender figure standing at the top of the stairs leading down to Krohn on the opposite side of the street.

“What’s up?”

Shane gave a small jerk of his head toward the person. “Up there. He looks familiar.”

Quinn looked across the street, squinting slightly against the sun. “You sure it’s a guy?”

The person was wearing baggy pants and a bulky navy sweatshirt. A dark ball cap was pulled low and dark sunglasses blocked a large chunk of the person’s face. The person could just as easily be a man or a woman.

“No clue. The sweatshirt and ball cap just look familiar. You got your pictures of the protestors at Taft Theater on you?”

“Yeah.” Quinn reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. But before he could even bring up his photo gallery, the person darted away, running straight into the woods.

“Fuck!” Shane snarled.

He ran across the street, offering a wave to the car that just managed to slam on its brakes and slide to a tire-squealing stop just inches from him. He didn’t even look back at the driver or Quinn before he charged up the stone steps.

“Hey!” he shouted after the running figure. “I just want to talk!”

Of course, that didn’t slow the runner in the slightest, not that he really expected it to. It would have been nice. He’d worn his favorite pair of boots that day. Fuck, these things were not meant for running. The somewhat slick soles gave him zero traction on the grass. He was one slip from a broken leg or at least a total face-plant.

The figure darted to the left, leaving the sidewalk behind in favor of trying to lose him in the thickening woods of the Presidential Grove. He’d wandered through it once on a lazy Sunday. Each past president had a tree planted in his name. He’d found it amusing that Nixon’s had been split by lightning and needed to be replaced.

Damp leaves made the ground even more difficult to navigate, and Shane cursed under his breath a second before Quinn zipped past him. His long legs easily ate up the distance. The cheeky bastard flashed him a smirky grin as he passed Shane. He was never going to hear the end of this, but he wasn’t going to complain. Quinn’s sweet ass was perfectly framed in his jeans as he ran, giving Shane an excellent view as he tried to keep to his feet.

At the edge of the Grove, the ground sharply dropped off back to the road that wound up the hill to the Conservatory. A surprised scream jumped from Quinn, signaling that he had no idea about the drop-off. Shane was several yards behind Quinn, but he could see the man grasping frantically at tree branches and shrubs to slow his sliding descent.

Shane hit the slope and turned his right foot sideways to control his slide, while Quinn partially slid and partially tumbled down the steep slope, stopping only when he hit the metal guardrail running along the side of the road.

“Are you okay?” Shane called as he reached Quinn.

“No,” he said sullenly. “I think I’ve got a splinter in my ass.”

Shane grabbed his arm and helped him back to his feet. They were both covered in dirt and leaves from the waist down. “I promise to pull it out with my teeth later.”

Quinn snorted. “I’m holding you to that.” He led the way over the guardrail, across the road, and into the woods that surrounded that open park area of Mirror Lake.

After thrashing through that wooded area, they exploded into the open green space and bright sunlight to find…the runner was gone.

“What the fuck…” Quinn said, his voice trailing off.

The park had only a dozen people in the area. Most were either walking or jogging around the man-made concrete lake, but not one matched the description of the person they’d seen in the dark sweatshirt and ball cap.

“Are you sure you saw the person cross the road and head into the woods?”

“No. I was too busy falling down the goddamn hill,” Quinn snapped. “But where else could she have gone?”

Shane wasn’t convinced the person was a she, but he let it go. The question was valid. He saw the runner head down over the hill just before Quinn. If he or she didn’t cross over the guardrail but stayed in those woods, he would have seen it. But wouldn’t they have also seen if the person stayed on the road rather than crossing to the other woods?

Turning back toward the woods, he scanned the area, trying to spot places of overturned branches or leaves where someone else would have passed through. If they didn’t cut across the street, the runner could have circled back up the road toward the Conservatory.

“Guess you would have been better off with one of Rowe’s bodyguards,” Quinn mumbled behind him.

Shane stopped and twisted around to look back at his companion in confusion. “Why would you say that?”

“Rowe and Noah trained a lot of them in tracking. They could look at…this,” he said with a wave of his hand to encompass the woods. “And they’d be able to spot if someone had come through here.”

“I don’t need one of Rowe’s knock-off rangers. I need my computer geek.” He reached back and grabbed a handful of Quinn’s shirt. Jerking him in, Shane intended to thoroughly kiss him, washing the bitter taste of defeat from both their mouths, but his lips skimmed off Quinn’s cheek as he turned his face at the last second.

“What the fuck!” Quinn said, pulling away from Shane to walk past him.

Yeah, that’s what he was thinking.

Shane turned to watch Quinn stomp over to a navy lump in the leaves. Bending over, he picked up the navy sweatshirt…the same sweatshirt the runner had been wearing.

“Son of a bitch!” he swore. A few feet away, the ball cap lay abandoned on the ground as well. The runner had shed both as he or she passed through the woods and blended in with the other joggers going around the lake by the time Quinn and Shane had emerged from the woods.

Quinn grabbed the hat and walked over to stand next to Shane. “Now what?”

Shane snagged a handful of Quinn’s shirt a second time and pulled him in until their chests bumped. “First,” he said and then grabbed Quinn’s mouth in the searing kiss he’d attempted just a minute earlier. A moan rose up from Quinn’s throat as he fully leaned into Shane, giving in to the kiss completely like he wanted Shane to devour him.

He broke off the kiss before it could blaze out of control and released Quinn, taking a step back to clear his head. He definitely needed more of that, but work had to come first…at least for a little while.

“Second, we grab some food and check out some of the leads that we do have.”

“Like the email. Got it. What about this?” Quinn held up the sweatshirt and cap still fisted in his right hand.

Shane took the sweatshirt, held it to his nose, and deeply inhaled. He got a hint of dirt, a bit of sweat, and what was possibly either fabric softener or detergent, but not what he was looking for. He’d hoped for a whiff of cologne or perfume, something to sway him one direction or the other on the person’s gender. They just weren’t that lucky.

“Come on. Let’s head back to the car. I need to brainstorm.”

Quinn groaned. “That sounds boring.”

Shane let a wicked grin stretch his lips. “I’ll make it up to you later.”