Seeds of Malice: A Psychic Vision Novel (Psychic Visions Book 11) Page 4

  “Is anybody trailing her?”

  London shook his head. “No budget money for that. The hunt right now is for Reginald.”

  “Makes sense.” It looked like the doctor wanted to say something else, but he fell quiet.

  London stood. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be off.”

  So far no one had asked about his coworkers. Which was a relief, but also a curiosity as that was his reason for what he was doing—supposedly.

  He turned and walked from the room, only relaxing when he exited the house. Nobody really said what the doctor’s specialty was or what he did other than be the figurehead of his many corporations. But he was involved in pharmaceuticals, weapons, and the military. And obviously he had an interest in anything to do with the poisons Fern might know about. But, for some reason, Dr. Sartain thought something was special about Fern and her expertise. The current cop theory was she’d created a lethal combination that was undetectable—contributing to her acquittal—because nobody had been able to determine what poisons had been used on these four deaths.

  Outside, London stopped for a long moment, studying the dark gardens surrounding the huge property. Evergreens lent shadows and shade over the large perfectly manicured lawn. All alongside the property, around the base of the trees, were various beds of assorted plants. A part of him wanted to look at the labels atop the long wooden sticks. The other didn’t want anything to do with it. He had no idea what grew on this property. He also had no right to check it out. But he suspected they were not roses or anything quite so nice.

  He got in his vehicle and drove to FBI headquarters. He had left Steve alone long enough. His partner didn’t know anything about London’s secret assignment, and Steve wouldn’t appreciate being kept out of the loop. For London, working in the dark sucked.

  *

  What was it like being home? Did she realize he’d been in her house? Had wandered through her backyard? Had gone through the contents of her car? Did she give a shit? He’d even gotten into her old office at the conservatory so he could know her a little better.

  It’d been six months since she’d left the country. He wanted to reacquaint himself with everything she was, so he could take her apart piece by piece.

  He prided himself on his achievements. And his next move would see her go down in flames. His greatest joy in life would be to see the cage locked in front of her as he walked away.

  Chapter 4

  She ended the call with Stefan. She had so few friends left. And nobody she knew dealt in computers or could handle this email.

  Handle what though? According to the email, Reginald had not been able to stop the notification from going through. That did not mean he was dead, but only that he didn’t make it to his computer in time to stop it. Nor had he contacted her since then to say he was fine. She stared at her shaking hands. Just the thought of calling the police was enough to make her stomach heave.

  She swore she’d never contact them again. Would never do anything to put her in the hot seat a second time. The police considered her guilty, and yet she’d done nothing wrong. She hadn’t murdered anyone. She had nothing to do with Derek’s decline. She had no idea what the hell was going on in Derek’s mind that he’d accused her of killing Ben. Derek used to work at the conservatory—maybe still did. He’d known Ben as well as she had. Hell, he’d had as much opportunity to kill him as she had.

  Thankfully, she wasn’t even in the country when the other two people died at the conservatory, and even Reginald’s disappearance had nothing to do with her. No way the media would say that though. No, they’d print that she’d returned and imply her arrival tied into the newest suspicious deaths. She knew no further details about what was found in Reggie’s house. She’d smelled poison and had Stefan’s statement about a middle-aged woman. That was it. People didn’t understand poisons. They were terrified of them. They didn’t see that, in microdoses, some were beneficial.

  Her parents had understood that, but they’d had their own sense of loyalty, and it was always to science. As far as Fern was concerned, fast food was a poison. It just took longer to kill people. Hellebore—a Eurasian herb of the buttercup family—was a plant that could both heal and kill. The nightshades were similar. Hundreds of other plants also had an opposing duality of characteristics.

  People didn’t want to understand how arsenic in small forms was used as a homeopathic remedy all throughout Europe. Or how digitalis helped people with heart conditions, but came from a poisonous plant as well. Mother Nature’s checks and balances. It was all about finding the right extractions which the body could utilize versus the amounts that overwhelmed an immune system and killed it.

  For every poison she extracted, she worked to find the antidotes. Mother Nature supplied both. But finding the actual plants was a different story. She’d spent her adult life working on it. Dr. Death had been her nickname all through med school. But it had died away until her court case and now stuck as a permanent label. Hardly fair, but nobody cared. Before and after she’d been acquitted, she’d received nasty phone calls and emails; her house had been egged. People had thrown litter all over her place and stuck signs up, calling her a murderer.

  She was white. She was pretty. She was young. She was wealthy, and she was educated.

  As far as the world was concerned, she was guilty.

  They also knew nothing about her life growing up. She could have brought much of that to bear in her court case. But she hadn’t wanted anyone to know. Playing the sympathy card wasn’t her style. Thankfully, she’d gotten off without divulging that.

  If it hadn’t been for Stefan and his group of friends, Fern wasn’t sure she would have survived after the trial, even though she was living in England. She hadn’t been able to sleep until Dr. Maddy had stepped in. Fern hadn’t felt secure in her rented house until several of Stefan’s men had walked through and put up a security system. She didn’t even understand what they’d done, as they hadn’t arrived with electronics. But they made sure nobody could intrude in her home while she slept. She slowly put the trial behind her.

  It had helped that the Garden of Death had welcomed her with open arms. She’d known that a lot of it was because she brought in the tourists. But, at the same time, the garden could teach her an awful lot. She considered it a win-win situation.

  Her thoughts returning to her current problem, she collapsed in her chair and stared at her trembling fingers. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t understand Stefan wanting her to call London.

  She didn’t trust him. What she needed was to find a lawyer, a cop, or somebody in Stefan’s world who could help. Or, better yet, a psychic FBI agent.

  She snorted at that. None were likely to be helpful. At least not in her world.

  Her doorbell rang just then, causing her to bolt from her chair. She turned and stared at the front door. It rang again. She crossed to it, glanced outside, but didn’t recognize the tall man standing before her.

  He called out, “Fern, my name is Grant. Stefan asked me to come by.”

  She unlocked the bolts and opened the door. She studied him suspiciously. “You have any ID?”

  He pulled out a card and handed it to her. “Better yet, call Dr. Maddy.”

  Her phone was in her hand, Dr. Maddy’s icon in Contacts already pressed. When Dr. Maddy answered, Fern said, reading from the card, “Dr. Maddy, this is Fern. Do you know Grant Sutherland? He says Stefan sent him.”

  She could hear Dr. Maddy’s light laughter. “Absolutely. He’s Kali’s partner.”

  Fern glanced at him again and asked Dr. Maddy in a low voice, “Is he safe?”

  “He’s safe, FBI, and can help.”

  She let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. I’ll give you a shout later. Sounds like your return to the States wasn’t exactly as peaceful as you had hoped.”

  “The new head of the conservatory is missing, and I smelled poison inside his house as I walked toward
the kitchen door. I retreated to find London watching me.”

  “Definitely talk to Grant. He can help you.”

  Fern put away her phone and motioned for Grant to come in. With a glance behind him, making sure nobody else was watching, she closed the door and locked it. She turned, her back leaning against it, and said, “Hi, thanks for coming. But why are you here?”

  He shoved his fists into his pockets. “I happen to be in town for a few days. I stopped in to say hi to Stefan, and he told me about your situation.” He studied her, his gaze quiet yet determined. “I’m sorry about what happened. At least you were acquitted.”

  She shot him a look. “Yes, it’s great that I wasn’t convicted, but I should never have been put through that circus in the first place.” She led the way to the kitchen. “I’m making coffee. Would you like a cup?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Dr. Maddy mentioned Kali to me a while back. She works with search and rescue dogs, I believe.”

  “That she does. She also has some of those lovely paranormal abilities that Stefan and Dr. Maddy have.”

  Fern froze, then turned and looked at him suspiciously. “Do you?”

  He chuckled. “Nope, sure don’t.”

  She snorted, the tension in the back of her shoulders relaxing. She quickly made coffee. “Good. It’s a little unnerving talking to those people.”

  He gave a belly laugh. “Isn’t that the truth?”

  She motioned toward the kitchen table. “Take a seat. The coffee will be ready soon.”

  He sat, studying her.

  She turned to get two coffee cups, not understanding the look in his eyes. The coffee dripped in front of her as she waited. Finally, she poured coffee for them. She avoided his gaze as she walked to the table.

  “What about your own abilities?” he asked. “Are you just finding out that you’re as psychic as they are?”

  She sat across from him, her heart thumping, the cups in her hands banging on the table as she stared at him in shock. “I don’t have any.”

  He moved one cup closer to him, and the other he pushed from its precariously balanced position on the edge of the table. “Stefan said you were in denial, but I didn’t believe it.”

  “It’s not denial. I am not like them.” At least not like Grant might think.

  He looked at her and gave her a small smile. “You are a whole lot more like them than you know.”

  She snorted. “You think I haven’t heard that before?” She tried to hide the shakiness within.

  But he wasn’t fooled. “Why are you so scared?”

  She glared at him. “Let’s see, I was charged and acquitted for murder, and now somebody is taking advantage of the fact that I just returned to murder somebody else. Doesn’t that give me a reason to be?”

  He inclined his head. “I can see that. But at the thought of having any kind of psychic ability, you turned to jelly.”

  “I’m a scientist, a botanist. We deal in facts. Psychic abilities are a completely different realm of thinking and not analytical.”

  “That does not make them mutually exclusive,” he said, his voice calm, controlled. “My wife is a search and rescue specialist. Her work is extremely dangerous and very demanding. But she’s also a psychic. She has an innate ability to find people who are lost. Particularly dead people.”

  Fern stared at him in shock. “I don’t think there’s anything nice about that ability at all.”

  His smile was sad when he said, “Many times I think she’d agree with you. Between her and the dogs, they’re quite gifted at finding any number of survivors. But the success rate in finding bodies and bringing them home for closure for the families, well, that’s phenomenal.”

  “I imagine it’s very hard on the dogs too.” Fern stared at her coffee. “Few people consider the effect searching and finding death all the time has on animals.”

  “Kali is very aware, and her dogs are extremely well-trained. It’s a great joy to everyone to find somebody alive after an earthquake. But, at one point, it turns from a rescue operation to recovery, and the animals usually know before the people. So does Kali.”

  Fern raised her gaze and studied his face. “It must be gratifying to know she’s doing some good.”

  “Indeed. It’s nice to know when you’re doing what you’re meant to and that your gift is helping others.” He smiled. “Although I’m sure most people wouldn’t see Dr. Death as doing the same thing, I suspect you are. I don’t quite understand what it is you do in your research, but I doubt it’s murdering people.”

  She smiled at him, her lips twitching. “I study the effect of poisonous herb and plant substances on the human nervous system. Mostly, I focus on poisonous plants and how long, fast, and in what ways they kill.”

  He stared at her for a long while, then, in a gentle voice, asked, “And?”

  She stared at him in surprise. “And what?”

  “I’m not psychic, but I know there is more to it than that.”

  “Fine. The other half of what I do is find an antidote for each one of those poisons.” She stared at him for a long moment. “How did you know?”

  “I know people. And though you might be fascinated with plants that kill, you are not a killer.”

  “It’s a broad assessment that could get you in a great deal of trouble,” she retorted. “How do you know I didn’t poison your coffee?”

  “I don’t, but I trust Stefan.”

  She slumped in her chair. “Yeah. Stefan is good for that.”

  “He believes in you.”

  “Why would he? I’ve never given him any reason to.” She looked moodily at her mug. “He says he’ll check on a few things for me. I don’t know what that means.”

  “Probably means me,” he said cheerfully. “I understand you’re having a problem with London.”

  Her back stiffened; she glared at Grant. “Do you know him?”

  “We’re both FBI, of course I know him.” His voice maintained a neutral tone.

  She shook her head. “Well, if you are here to defend him, don’t bother. I’m not listening.”

  He gave a short bark of laughter at that. “It never crossed my mind.”

  She leaned forward. “His brother is worse. You have any idea what he did to me? He was more than happy to see me put away for life.”

  “London might’ve been a little too emotional because of his brother’s involvement. Not to mention he’d just lost both parents in an airplane accident. The concept of losing his brother too at that time panicked him.”

  “I didn’t know a lot about his parents.” Not that it made any difference now. Still it would have been a difficult time for London. And it made her realize why he might not have been there for her.

  She had heard Grant’s words, but she had no illusion about the assessment of his gaze. “Look, I don’t know what you’re here for or what you think you’ll accomplish. I had nothing to do with killing anybody or poisoning Derek. As far as I’m concerned, law enforcement and the entire justice system are not trustworthy. A lot of people expected me to be found guilty, and, sure, I was acquitted, but I shouldn’t have been charged in the first place. What they did to me was wrong.”

  “People get blind and think they have all the answers. They don’t see any point in changing their view because, as far as they’re concerned, they know the truth.”

  “As they want to believe it. Nobody was interested in finding the truth. If they had looked anywhere other than at me, they might’ve seen something. But they were so focused on me that they didn’t look around for another suspect. And a killer was free to act again.”

  “That is a problem,” he conceded. “Sometimes with law enforcement, when they have a suspect who looks good, they build a case. It goes to trial, and, as far as they’re concerned, it’s a done deal. The fact that you were acquitted doesn’t mean you’re any less guilty to them. It just showed they failed to prove your guilt. The case isn’t closed, because nobody was convic
ted. So, if anything happens again, those with a forgone opinion will be that much more determined to make sure you pay the price because, in their minds, knowing that you killed once, you will again.”

  She stared at him. “And because that woman at Reggie’s house just died, they’ll think I’m responsible.”

  “Of course they will.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “And, if you were on their side of this equation, you would think you were guilty too.”

  “You know I just returned to the country, right? It would be absolutely foolish to kill somebody as soon as I came home.”

  “Not too many people are concerned about whether you’re a smart killer or not.”

  “And the other two deaths at the conservatory… Will they lay those on me too?”

  “If they can blame you for one, they will say they’re all connected.” He picked up his coffee and took a sip. He smiled and said, “So, let’s get this out of the way first. Tell me where you’ve been for the last couple days. Reginald’s been missing since yesterday noon.”

  “I can’t believe I have to do this again.” She pulled a notepad toward her and picked up her pen. “So from when?”

  “How about 9:00 a.m. yesterday?”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she scratched down as much as she could remember of her timeline for the last twenty-four hours. When done, she turned the notepad in his direction. “Is this close enough?

  With each jotted note, he questioned her about every detail. “You went to your British bank before leaving for the States?”

  She nodded.

  “How long were you at the bank approximately?”

  “Twenty minutes,” she said, “And, yes, I did meet with the manager.”

  “His name?”

  She gave it to him and he wrote it down on the side. They went through everything she’d listed. Even how her eleven-hour transatlantic flight had been delayed at departure.

  “Last night, after cruising by Reggie’s house, did you immediately drive here to your house?”