Seeds of Malice: A Psychic Vision Novel (Psychic Visions Book 11) Page 6

  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 d
idn’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.

  Chapter 6

  Fern didn’t know what had just happened. But there had been a breakthrough between her and London. One she hadn’t expected or asked for. But now that the wall had started to crumble with his apology, memories came flooding in. Memories she couldn’t deal with. Memories of the future she’d hoped for and lost.

  She grabbed her coffee cup and walked to her rear patio. She was only out here seconds when she realized that same creepy feeling of being watched hovered over her shoulder again. She looked around carefully for a sign of anyone. Perhaps she was just paranoid and, yes, she had reasons for concern. She took several long moments to study the surrounding gardens in the neighbors’ backyards.