Chapter 5
Alone once again, Fern wandered around her small place and tried to work out what her next step. She grabbed a notepad and started jotting down what she knew so far.
The big issue was finding Reggie. She didn’t know what Grant was going to do with the email. She hoped there’d be a way to track Reggie through it. She hadn’t seen his laptop anywhere in his office or any of the other many places he would normally hide it.
If she had gone into his house that would just give London more ammunition against her. Knowing he had and they found somebody was a little disconcerting. She’d smelled death as well as the poison. Hard not to. She wondered if she should call her lawyer, Jerry Solange. They’d kept in touch with brief phone calls and emails, more because he’d been concerned about her.
Realizing she owed it to him to let him know what was going on, she quickly brought up his email address. In the subject, she typed it’s happening all over again. Then she took the time to give as much information as she could get down before she hit send. At that point, feeling a little on the shaky side, she got up and opened the fridge.
Not having been home for very long and not sure if she would even be staying, she hadn’t done much shopping. She had bread, peanut butter, and tuna, but no mayonnaise. Nothing that appealed. She could walk to one of the corner shops and get something, or she could drive to the market and pick up fresh food, including coffee.
Still contemplating food, she sat with a thud. Returning to England appealed more and more every day. But she couldn’t do anything until she knew for sure where Reginald was. For a lot of reasons, he might not have been able to stop that alert. Him being dead was only one.
She’d tried calling, but hadn’t been able to connect, so she sent him a warning email instead. Now she worried that she hadn’t done enough. After all he was missing now, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty.
Originally she had even hoped to talk to Reggie about setting up a death garden within the US conservatory. They had discussed it before, and that starting one here would be no big deal. She was qualified for such a project. She certainly had a great response from the visitors in England. Nobody there mentioned the court case, murders, or her acquittal as she’d feared. And, as her name and presence had brought in notoriety and, therefore, tourists there, it would do the same here.
As time went on, she had enjoyed her interaction with the UK public. She got to work with her plants, but it was limited to the gardening level as she didn’t have research money or the funding to do more.
Here in the States she could do so much more. She’d had funding before, until it had all been yanked when she’d been charged with murder. So many new plants she would like to work on, but she needed money and a lab to do so. Previously, when she’d worked full time at the conservatory, she had spent her evenings and weekends on her personal research at her rented lab space. It had been her name and position that had helped secure the lab space she’d used for years.
If she could get a research grant, then the same lab might give her space in their facilities again. She pondered the options of contacting them. She had been acquitted of all charges, but she didn’t know if that was enough to make them open their doors to her once more. They’d been inundated with bad press during the trial too. That couldn’t have been good for their business.
Even without taking a huge hit with lawyer fees leading up to her trial, as well as being mostly unemployed, she really needed big money backing her. A ton of it was available for research, but getting it wasn’t the easiest. She’d been doing quite well in that department up until the murder charge. She had no idea what response she’d get now.
She did want to continue her work, and that required funding. She had money of her own, and had invested a lot of it to complete her projects at the time, but couldn’t afford to keep that up.
She looked forward to getting more into that part of her life again, once this nightmare was over.
As far as she was concerned, especially since reading Reggie’s email, there was only one killer. Likely somebody close to her or at least professionally jealous of her. He had to have a lot of motivation to set up these scenarios—or hate.
Who would have either a personal or professional problem with her? At the top of her list was Derek. Second would be London. How sad that her ex-fiancé and his brother were the only ones she could think of. She had had problems with a few people at the conservatory. She’d had to fire one because he’d been stealing plants for his own garden. She didn’t remember his name.
There had to be a complete file on the theft as well as on all the employees somewhere in the conservatory’s office.
Which brought up the issue with her security card not giving her access to the buildings anymore. She grabbed her phone and contacted Reggie’s admin. Rebecca still had no word from Reggie. Fern didn’t share Reggie’s latest email with Rebecca. She would only worry more. With Rebecca on the line, Fern asked, “Any chance I can get a new access card for the conservatory? I’m still on the board of directors.” Rebecca agreed to take care of it. “And, before you go, is it possible to email me all the employee records?” When Rebecca paused, Fern added, “I know this must be a strange request, but I am on the board. And, in Reggie’s absence, I think it warrants a closer look at all the employees.”
“I agree,” Rebecca said.
“I’ll put my request in writing and email it right over. That way you are covered. I’ll take any blame.”
“Give me a few hours.”
Who else might hold a grudge against her? She didn’t have much in the way of friends, back then or even now. And she eliminated them as suspects quickly anyway.
Some had been fascinated with her profession. Of course her nickname hadn’t helped either. When the murder charges had been filed, everybody had completely disappeared from her life. She’d never felt lonelier than when she had walked into the courtroom that morning at the start of the trial, realizing the audience wasn’t there to support her, but to watch her, with avid fascination, get crucified. And yet why should she have been surprised? She was used to being alone, unfortunately.
Without her lawyer, she would have been lost. Stefan had been around, but he couldn’t handle the type of energy that a court case would bring in. He did testify often in lawsuits as an expert, but had said something was wrong about this one. It was very hard for his energies to be balanced. He also hadn’t been able to come in as a defense witness for her because there had been no reason to call him. He knew she was not a liar because he saw the truth in her energy. She snorted at that. The jury would have had a field day with that statement. They’d crucify him and her.
She dredged through her memories, looking for more people who might have a problem with her. It was hard to remember anymore as she’d been so vilified by the media that she had no one left now from her former life. Hopefully Reggie was still alive. Then with the court case, she had met Stefan. Eventually Dr. Maddy. Brent. Otherwise she’d been alone for most of her life. Deliberately isolated.
After being charged, she’d received death threats and nasty emails. Her house and property had been damaged. Her gardens at home destroyed, and her life had collapsed. But, after the acquittal, it had gotten much worse for the couple weeks she’d stayed here. She’d received horrible letters in the mail. Initially, she’d turned everything over to the police, but they didn’t seem to really care, almost like they wanted somebody to attack her because their hands were tied. Still they’d been forced to go to several people who had made death threats to warn them to stop their actions before they were charged themselves. Which meant the cops should have a list of everyone who hated her enough to do something like this. She certainly didn’t.
Besides, few of the letter-writers had identified themselves.
Stefan had kept telling her everything had to happen for a reason, and in its own time, that she needed to have patience and tolerance to get through this.
She had asked why the trial was happening. He just looked at her with a sad smile and said the whys were not part of the human experience. She had pondered that statement for many months. It still didn’t make a lot of sense to her. She reminded herself that the letters were just vicious words on a page. Maybe someone should check into them. Grant?
She copied his email from his card and quickly sent him a message, asking him to consider her hate mail folder that the local police should have. She added:
Many nasty letters came before I was acquitted, so somebody at the police department should have a file. Did anybody look at the list to see if the killer was potentially one of them? I haven’t even picked up my mail since I returned, so likely more is waiting for me.
She didn’t expect to hear back anytime soon. But, when her phone rang, in her mind she assumed it was Grant.
Instead it was London. Her face twisted as he reamed her out for not letting him know about the email from Reginald. When he was finally done, she just hung up. She never said a word, just simply ended the call. She didn’t need any more of that in her life.
There was something very empowering about hanging up on somebody. With a smile on her face, she rose to pour yet another cup of coffee. He called again. She knew he would. If she ignored his calls, he’d come by, which made her next decision that much easier.
She grabbed her keys, phone—which she set on vibrate—and her purse, and headed to her car. She needed groceries and a chance to get away for a little bit.
She drove to the big market, always teeming with tourists. She found a place to park off to one side and several blocks away. With her purse and a straw shopping bag, she headed to the market.
As soon as she felt herself mingling and hiding within the crowd, she relaxed. This was much better. Nobody knew or recognized her.
She quickly finished her shopping, then grabbed a coffee and ordered a sandwich in one of the delicatessens. She took her meal to the patio where she could sit and enjoy the sunshine in peace. She’d gotten accustomed to being by herself, having always done so in one way or another. In the last year she’d made new friends. True ones. Slowly. Hopefully, friends who wouldn’t desert her if she ended up in court again. What a terrible thought. Her gut knotted up at the idea.
When she finished eating, she picked up her shopping bag and slowly made her way to her car. With all that was going on in her life, she had some big decisions to make. If she returned to England, should she keep her house and vehicle or just put everything up for sale and start fresh? Or she could work at any facility across the country. She had to check out her network connections first to see if anybody stateside was interested. She had thought her reputation was in tatters. Particularly when it came to raising money. Money was king. And, if that network had dried up, nothing was left for her here. But maybe it wasn’t as bad as she’d assumed. A few phone calls would let her know.
After she walked in her front door, she pulled her phone from her purse, debating whether to make an initial network call, then remembered it was set to vibrate. She was also anxious to get the conservatory employee records. Checking her phone, she had missed three calls. Two from London, the third from Grant.
She dialed Grant. When he answered, she said, “Sorry. I turned off my ringer to avoid London.”
He chuckled. “He wasn’t too impressed about seeing the email.”
“That is to be expected. I certainly don’t trust him.” She groaned. “I also didn’t tell you about the reason I returned.” She quickly filled Grant in on the threat to Reggie. There was a shocked silence on his end.
“Sorry should have sent earlier. I’ll email it to you.” And she hung up.
The phone rang again. Grant. “You don’t want to know how I feel about you not contacting the police over the letter, although I understand why you didn’t. But that you didn’t show me when I was there – yeah, I’m not happy about that.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you. But I’m not hiding anything else.”
She went to hang up a second time.
“Whoa. Do you know a Dr. Sartain?”
“Yes, I do, well, at least of him.”
“You have a relationship with him?”
Cautiously she asked, “What do you mean by a relationship?”
“Have you met him? Have you spoken with him on the phone? Has he had anything to do with your research?”
“A couple times. We discussed some of my work, as well as my parents’. He tried to get me to work for his lab a couple years back. Said he still had some of my parents’ old assistants on staff. We had discussed it before the court case, then he pulled the offer when he found out I was being charged with murder,” she said. “I haven’t contacted him since I returned. Why?”
“London was there speaking with him today.”
“Great. Just what I need.” At that moment, she decided. “Grant, is there any reason I can’t leave the country?”
“No. Although it will make you look guilty, but there’s nothing to hold you here.” His tone was thoughtful when he said, “Are you in danger?”
“I am from law enforcement. Isn’t that enough?” She shook her head. “I’m not trying to take this out on you. But once again, it feels like I’m back in the same boat as before. I would love to see Reginald walk home again and be his normal ditzy self, but after that letter and this morning’s email, I’m fairly spooked.”
“With good reason. But are you in physical danger?”
She winced. “I haven’t gotten that far. But now that you mention it… As I don’t know how the victims were chosen, what’s to stop them from coming after me?”
“Because you’re the patsy. You’re their best chance at getting away with murder – again.”
“That means someone must hate me – like really hate me – to do something like that,” she cried.
In a gentle voice, he asked, “So who do you know who hates you badly enough to see you charged with murder a second time?”
“Other than possibly Derek, or some crazy persons amid all my hate mail, no one. I don’t know anyone who’d do that.”
“No, you don’t know anyone you think would, which means you aren’t seeing the people around you clearly.”
*
London’s hard, angry gaze stared at the monitors in front of him. He was caught up in something he didn’t like. And yet, he couldn’t find a way out. How could he possibly get free of something he didn’t understand, knowing that it involved, at minimum, Dr. Sartain, the FBI director and, in another bizarre twist, the woman who had stolen his heart? London’s phone rang as he sat there, contemplating this mess. He pulled it out and his mood plummeted even further. “Hello, Derek.”
His brother’s voice wavered, then climbed higher. “When can I see her?”
London’s eyebrows rose. “I doubt she wants to see you.” He didn’t get his brother anymore. He’d turned from a confident ladies’ man into a shell of the person he had once been. His physique had changed as well, from a big strapping muscular jock to this nervous stressed-out-looking geek of a man.
“Good. If she asks about me, don’t tell her anything.”
“She’s not likely to.” London stared across the room. His brother and Fern had been engaged for a week, maybe ten days; that was it. Derek had broken it off, then acted like it was her fault. Now he went hot and cold, switching his viewpoint with every thought. London wondered when all the shit would die down and his life—and his brother’s—could get back to normal. London had known Fern hadn’t killed anyone. That wasn’t her. But the cops had been so sure. Now there was this feeling of unfinished business. Like waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this next round to happen.
Still maybe this was a good thing. He wanted his life back. He wanted the same for his brother. He also wanted to stop the asshole who was committing all these murders and causing so much mayhem. That was a joke. The local cops had no idea who that was. And the FBI wasn’t getting any further either. As soon as London could, he hung up from his brother’s phone call. Then he dialed Fern.
“Don’t hang up on me again,” he snapped, his temper getting the best of him.
“I will if I want to,” she said coolly. “It’s my right not to talk to assholes bothering me.”
He winced. “I didn’t mean to come across so strong the last time.”
“You never mean to. It’s so naturally you.”
He hated how light and detached her tone was. She’d known from the beginning she was his, at least he’d thought she had. The attraction had been instant and, he thought, forever. Then she’d been charged, and he’d been caught up in the nightmare he couldn’t get clear of. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t know who was more surprised at his apology. In truth, he hadn’t expected to do so at all. When she gave a heavy sigh, he realized it had worked.
She asked, “What did you call about?”
“I want to know if you’ve had any other communication with Reginald or anyone connected to this.”
“Not yet. But you need to talk to Grant. I gave him a copy of the initial threatening letter. It’s the reason I came here.”
He closed his eyes shut. “Damn. I’ll get one. What did it say?”
“I want my life back,” she murmured, unintentionally echoing his own earlier thoughts. “I want to find Reggie safe and sound.”
For the first time in a long time he caught a glimpse of what her life had been like. How having this hanging over her head, and once again flaring back up, must feel. Like her head was on the chopping block, just waiting for the executioner to come along. He never intended for his part in this whole mess. His boss had pulled him from the initial case when London’s relationship with Fern came up. At the time, it was a budding one, but his brother had made it seem like it was long-term.
“He’s made a mistake this time.” A threatening letter to bring her back in time for her to be on the spot while another murder was committed? Brazen. And impatient.
“Oh? Why’s that?” she asked bitterly. “I’m being set up all over again. Don’t forget how earlier today I was at Reggie’s house, with Pam dead inside.”
“How did you know who had died?” he asked sharply. Then in a quieter voice he added, “You didn’t go inside.”
“No, but you can bet I was informed quickly,” she said bitterly.
“Right.” He winced, realizing several law enforcement people could have told her, then said, “Yes, but she’d been dead a few hours already. She died while you were still at the conservatory, after we talked to you.”
A daunting silence filled the phone. Then she whispered in a torn voice, “Oh, thank God for small favors.”
He heard her broken tears in the background. He closed his eyes tight and leaned forward. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
Again, other than her weeping, there was silence. And for a second time he got a little deeper insight into how traumatized her life must’ve been. She’d walked away from him, moving to England, believing he was part of the madness that had put her in that courtroom. He wasn’t, but he had been unable to get her out of the madness. He’d tried desperately to change the course of events. But it had been too little, too late.
With Derek slipping in between them causing trouble, her own stress levels off the wall, his frustration trying to figure out exactly what the hell was going on after his boss pulled him off the case, plus, his own doubts about his brother’s word, losing both his parents just one month earlier, and the circumstantial evidence against Fern, he’d had no choice but to let justice take its course.
He knew that, in her position, he’d feel just as she did. Being acquitted was not the same as being innocent in the eyes of the world which had already mentally convicted her. He knew she had suffered. Everyone close to her had backed off. Including him.
He got up and walked through the office, keeping his head down to avoid anybody seeing the turmoil on his face. He stepped out in the hallway, across to the small balcony and took in some fresh air. It was more commonly used as a smoking spot, but thankfully, it was empty now. However, the smell of smoke still lingered. He took several deep cleansing breaths, coughing as he inhaled what was left over from the smokers.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I really needed to hear that today.”
“Are you booking your flight back to England?” he asked, half-jokingly.
“I already asked Grant if it was okay to leave the country,” she said. “I’ve no intention of ever living here again. I don’t have anyone here anymore. My reputation is in tatters. Maybe, if you catch the real killer, I can rebuild my life, but, in the meantime, the chance of a decent one here is looking pretty crappy.”
“Would you go back to the same garden?”
“They’ve offered to extend my contract by another six months. I told them I had to clean up a few things here first, but I’d consider their offer.”
He winced at the thought of her leaving again. “I’d hate to see you spend another six months over there.”
“I could spend six years over there, and still people here would not forget. In the eyes of the world, I got away with murder.”
He nodded and stared at the overcast sky. “Then help me find the killer,” he urged. “Don’t fight me on this. Work with me. Let’s figure out together who the hell could have done this, who could’ve dumped this on you and then walked away scot-free.”
Again an awkward silence followed as she digested the information. “I tried,” she said. “As I look back on it, I’m sure I could have done something else, but I don’t know what it was.”
“I kept thinking that something would happen at the last minute,” he admitted. “Something that would stop this miscarriage of justice.”
“The only thing that happened at the last minute was the common sense of the jury to not convict me for something I didn’t do.”
“We need to find the answers for your sake, mine, and Derek’s.”
“Don’t do it for mine,” she said quietly. “There is no my sake anymore. Do it for the victims who never got justice. Do it for Reginald, who may end up as dead as the rest of them.” And she hung up.
“Shit.” London stared at the gray sky, wondering how to break through the barrier she was determined to keep between them. Could he go that route again?
The door opened. “You okay?” Steve asked.
London slipped his phone in his pocket, turned around and gave his partner a half smile and a small lie. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just my brother, giving me hell as usual.”
Steve winced. “Man, I’m so sorry. That really sucks. Derek used to be such a vital guy. I don’t know what the hell happened to him.”
“Neither do I, but, if I could solve one mystery, that would be it. The other would be who the hell is murdering all these damn people.”
“That’s why I’m here. The initial autopsy report on the woman we found this morning said poison wasn’t the cause of death. She took a severe blow to the chest, causing cardiac arrest, which is what killed her.” In a grim voice Steve added, “He’s thinking the poison was added to her mouth postmortem.”
“And the only reason to do that would be to throw suspicion on someone else.”
The two men stared at each other.
“The same person that’s trying to nail Fern’s ass, once again, to the cross, hoping this time she goes down for good.”
Steve nodded. “It won’t be easy to get her to open up, but we really need to find out who knows her so well they could pull this off.”
“I’ve asked her, and I’m pretty damn sure she has no freaking idea.”
“Then we need to stop asking the wrong questions and start asking the right ones. It may not be somebody who hates her, and just one who finds her convenient. The perfect fall guy for this. So we need to suspect everybody in her circle. Not only those with a grudge against her.”
London nodded. “She still won’t let us in.”
“We can make it official.”
“Let’s ask for her cooperation first. If she doesn’t accept that, then we’ll go a little more hardline.”
The two men walked back inside and headed to their desks. “You want to go to her place now?” Steve asked.
London thought about it and then nodded. “The sooner, the better.”
“What the hell was that about with Grant this morning?”
London glanced at his partner and said, “I have no idea. But I need to see him about something else now. Fern didn’t just happen to return. She was forced to.”
*
He’d done a lot to set certain little plays in motion. Who knew it would be so much fun to scramble up the chessboard and watch all the players react? That was why he loved poison so much. It was true and honest, while causing panic, fear, sickness, and death.
The conservatory would likely never recover. Maybe that was a good thing. It was only average anyway. They could’ve done so much more. If they had had somebody else take it over, then maybe they could develop it into something wonderful. He hated to see potential like that go to waste. Just like Fern had it to be somebody, to be something. Instead, she did everything halfway and never quite achieved anything. It was joked that she might’ve taken Ben’s job, killed him for the opportunity. Not likely. She didn’t think big enough.
Besides, she needed to focus on staying out of jail. Not that she’d keep her freedom. He’d make sure of it.