Chapter 1
Botanist Fern Geller pushed open the door to the Milton conservatory, one of Portland’s brightest tourist spots, and took a deep breath of fresh humid air. She preferred to work outside when given a chance, but, if not an option, she enjoyed working here. She used to come on a regular basis, but that was before…
There was a slight nip to the spring air. In contrast, inside it resembled the moist tropics. She loved them both, but going from one to the other was a little rough. She took her long braid and twisted it atop her head as she stood in place and took several more inhales, letting her lungs adjust to the shift in humidity. Also calming herself, shoving back the worry.
Loosening the top two buttons of her jacket, she strode through the main pathway toward the tour group ahead of her. The last thing she wanted was to get embroiled in a multitude of questions if she met the wrong people here, but she needed to know where the head of the department had hidden himself. It was a bit of a joke, but Reginald Drover preferred to be where no one could find him. A fascinating man to talk to—incredibly intelligent and extremely knowledgeable about his specialties—but the dispensing of his knowledge or the offering of any assistance was just not his forte.
How he maintained his position here was a mystery.
At least everyone else in the place was responsible.
The tour stopped to look at the orchids, and she caught sight of the tour guide.
Brittany. Good. She’d help. Fern stood in the back of the group and waited until Brittany’s glance landed on her. She smiled as Brittany’s face lit up. Brittany was a good kid, in her second year at the university, working on her own botany degree while helping at the conservatory on a part-time basis. Excusing herself from the group for a moment, Brittany walked toward Fern.
“Hey, I didn’t realize you were back in town.” Brittany opened her arms and hugged Fern. Stepping back, Brittany studied Fern’s face. “You don’t look too bad for someone who’s been working in the Garden of Death.”
Fern shook her head. “And I’m trying not to let anybody know I’ve returned,” she said drily. “I’m looking for Reggie. Any idea where he is?”
“No, today is my first shift in a couple days. I haven’t seen him yet. I suppose you checked all the usual places?” Brittany asked with a big smile. “It’s early enough he won’t have skipped out for the day yet.”
“Or so you’d assume,” Fern murmured. “In the months I’ve been gone, has he found any new hiding spots?”
Brittany shook her head. “I don’t think so, but then I’m only here a few hours a week now, so anything’s possible.
“Why only a few hours?” That wasn’t good.
Brittany shrugged, her eyes downcast. “I almost lost my job. Reggie said I could stay for four hours maximum. I know the budget costs have overrun, and, with the latest news, the donations and grants have almost dried up. I’m lucky to get even this much.”
“Interesting. Last I heard the conservatory was doing well.”
“Oh, it was,” Brittany said earnestly. “But, since you’ve been gone, you may not have heard all the rumors.”
“Rumors?” Fern shoved her hands in her pockets to keep her fists hidden away. Rumors were deadly. They could destroy anybody and everything in their vicinity, and were often created without a grain of truth.
“Two deaths in the last couple months. One was a maintenance man, the other a visitor. Apparently unrelated. Now people are saying the place is haunted,” Brittany added with avid horror. “Everyone is saying they’ve been murdered.”
Fern’s eyes widened in shock. That couldn’t be good. “Haunted? Murders?”
That was the last thing she’d expected Brittany to say. Fern knew a little too much fraternizing went on between the staff employees, causing some rumor trouble, and although they happened everywhere, when it came to grant money, nobody could afford to have the faintest whisper of wrongdoing.
“Yes.” Brittany leaned forward so none of the tour participants could hear. “And nobody knows what killed either of them.” She took a step back, hurriedly twisting around to look at her group, as if to ensure they weren’t listening in. “Be careful,” she told Fern. Brittany glanced again at the gathering of guests, shifting restlessly. “I have to go. Bye.” With a little finger wave, Brittany returned to the front of the tour group and said in a loud voice, “Okay, everyone, let’s move on to the cactus gardens.”
With happy murmurs they followed along.
Fern watched for several moments. This conservatory was one of the largest in the world, split up into multiple themes. It had always been a favorite of the public, and even housed a special plant that only bloomed once every twenty years. People flocked in to see that rare occurrence. All these efforts brought in a lot of extra funding.
Like any grant-run institute, keeping the money flowing was always a difficult job. Any suspicious deaths would dry up the funding quickly. And that couldn’t be allowed to happen.
With a frown, Fern retreated the way she’d entered.
Why two deaths now? Unless they were connected. Yet Brittany said they weren’t. But then Brittany was a student, not a detective.
Surely somebody would have more information. That somebody should be Reggie. Something else to ask him about. If Fern could find him… His admin should know his whereabouts.
Fern hurried toward the office building, and, pulling out her ID card, swiped it to gain entrance. Only it wouldn’t open the doors. She swiped a second time, and it still didn’t work.
Through the double glass entryway doors, she saw someone inside, walking toward the exit. She stepped back out of the way, waiting until he opened the door. She flashed her card, and he held the door for her to enter.
Inside she headed down the long hallway to the stairwell. She took the stairs over an elevator any day. She studied her card, wondering if it had been damaged. Or had enough change occurred in her absence that her rights and access had been revoked, and no one had told her?
But then why would anyone do that? She was on the board, an active member in good standing. Sure, she’d been gone for six months. That was likely the cause of the problem. Maybe they’d been forced to upgrade the security system, and, as she hadn’t been around, her access may not have been sorted out.
Feeling better for that explanation, she picked up the pace and almost ran up the last set of stairs. A lot of research was done here. Although they were listed as office buildings, the main offices were at the back behind a separate locked entryway altogether. She’d phoned Reggie’s earlier this morning and left a message, telling him that she’d be coming to see him. It was foolish in that she doubted he ever listened to them.
Rebecca Ferguson wasn’t at her desk out front like she normally was.
Finally reaching Reggie’s office, Fern knocked gently on the wooden door. She gazed through the window beside the door, and it appeared dark inside, empty. Getting no answer, she knocked harder, then reached for the doorknob and turned it. It was unlocked. She pushed open the door.
She could tell it was empty with one glance. Exactly as she had figured. Damn.
She walked through the larger outer office and into the inner one in the back. If he was here, he’d be in the back corner. But it was empty too. His desk was cleaned off. Walking back out, she closed both doors and headed to the little coffee room at the end of the hall.
There she found two people, both strangers in official-looking business suits, their backs to her as they faced the huge wall-to-ceiling window.
“Have either of you seen Reggie?”
The two men pivoted her way.
She gave them a casual nod.
She couldn’t see the second man as he now stood slightly behind the first, who stepped toward her and asked, “No. Why do you want to see him?” The other man straightened but remained silent.
She gave the first guy a startled look. Not what she’d been expecting. She followed up with a noncommittal answer. “I was hoping to talk with him this morning.” She shrugged. “Only he’s not in his office.”
She turned to leave, but the first man called back, “Why would you expect him to be?”
She froze. Then very slowly she turned around to stare at the two men studying her. She still couldn’t see the second man. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s his office.”
The first man’s lips tilted in a sneer.
She studied him, then asked, “Who are you? And just what the hell is going on here?”
“Maybe we should be asking you that question. Dr. Death, isn’t it?”
Her heart froze. That name. Dear God. When would she ever be able to discard it? She kept her face blank as her spine stiffened and her blood pumped through her veins at triple the normal rate. If she could just get one breath out…
The first man stepped closer and pulled out a badge that he held up for her to see.
FBI. She stared at it with a horrible sense of déjà vu. Like hell she wanted anything to do with these two. Ripples snaked down her spine, but at least her chest moved properly. And she breathed.
She shook her head and took a step back. “Why is the FBI at the conservatory?”
“We’d like to see your ID,” the first man said with a hard smile. “A nickname is not the same as proper identification. If you don’t mind…”
“And, if I do, particularly as you seem to think you know who I am,” she snapped, “what then?”
He took one more step toward her, conveniently in front of the second man, blocking her view again. “Then we’ll have to insist.”
She snorted in disgust. “Of course you will. After all, that’s how you deal with people, isn’t it? Manhandle your way into places where you’re not welcome and through situations without any finesse or care for someone else. Especially not for the truth. Typical,” she said in a waspish tone.
She was instantly sorry for spouting out her wrath, but she had no love for the FBI—or any law enforcement. The FBI just topped the list. It was hard to forgive them for the treatment she’d received at their hands. At least Derek, London’s brother, wasn’t here—her ex-fiancé who’d betrayed her in the worst way. That would just be the icing on the cake. She’d be running like hell back to England and the proffered extension on her contract at Alnwick Garden.
Still, antagonizing these men right off the bat wasn’t the smartest move. “Look, I’m just trying to find Reggie. Do you know where he is?” She pulled her card from her pocket and handed it over. The agent took it and read her name. Instantly a frown whispered across his face. And she knew he’d heard her name before. At least the family name. Damn, she didn’t need this. “So where is he?” she asked quietly.
“We don’t know. He’s gone missing.”
She raised both hands. “Why not just say that from the beginning? He loves to do that, it’s what he does. We spend half our days looking for him just so we can get a few problems solved around this place.” She turned back to the door. “Thanks for nothing but wasting more of my time.”
As she walked through the door, the first man called out, “We mean, he’s gone missing, not just unavailable for a few hours or a day.”
She froze.
“That is, of course, one of the reasons we wanted to speak with you.”
She bowed her head. Of course it was.
She pivoted, her emotions carefully removed from her expression. “And why would there be an ‘of course’ in there?” She waited a long moment for one of the two men to speak. When they stayed silent, she gave a gentle sniff. “I thought so.”
With a hard spin, she headed out the door once again.
And heard the first man ask in a low tone, “Did you kill him?”
The pain ricocheted inside through her gut and bounced off her bones before shooting a rod up her spine. “No. I didn’t.” And she took another step, the ache deep inside almost too much to bear.
“How can we believe you? You killed the previous head of the department.”
She stood stock-still and closed her eyes, shaking her head. This would never go away. It didn’t matter how many times she denied it or held up the acquittal for all to see. As far as anyone else was concerned, she’d killed Ben Kimball, the former head of the conservatory. The man Reginald Drover had replaced. It didn’t matter to anyone that Ben needed killing in the worst way.
She kept her eyes closed, even when she heard movement. One of the men stood before her now.
When she lifted her eyelids, her body jolted with the shock of recognition. Her heart, well, it knew her mate—and the pain of losing him. No, it wasn’t Derek—it was someone much worse.
It was London Behring, Derek’s hardass and way-too-sexy brother.
Shit.