Killer Scents

here.”

With that, the door mysteriously opened and he disappeared into the privacy of his home. Becca hated seeing him in such a fragile state, but they had a job to do. If The Florist did his growing here, they’d find him.

Randy and Becca stood in the driveway with a group of ten officers. All were given a map of the grounds with each building labelled. Randy divided the group into two. He’d lead the one and Becca the other.

“Okay, we have a plan. Let’s stick to the timeline. If anyone uncovers or comes across a red flag, report directly to Randy or me.” She glanced in his direction. “Any questions?”

The same worker who accompanied them on their initial tour arrived. Jacob smiled and jumped off his jeep- like truck. “Good morning. The boss called me. I have a couple of Mules for you to use while you’re here today. I’ll take two drivers with me to pick them up and bring them back here.”

“Rick and...Danny? Where’s Danny?” Randy looked over his shoulder.

“Ah, he got a call and needed to return to the station right away.” Rick shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Randy levelled a hand above his eyes to block the sun. “Okay, well this is Jacob, the head honcho around here. You can pick another officer to go with him now, please.”

Rick sprung to action, tapping the back of the nearest officer to join him on the back of the Mule.

Jacob eased in behind the wheel. “I’ll be around. If you need anything, just ask.” He slipped his vehicle into gear.

“Thank you, Jacob.” Becca smiled. Could Jacob be The Florist? He sure knows his flowers, but every account of the killer’s appearance has him pegged tall and slender, not short and stocky like Jacob is.

The drivers returned quickly and split into teams. Becca stood up in the passenger seat next to the driver. “Please, try to be respectful of the professor’s property today. We didn’t need the search warrant, and we’d like to keep our relationship with the man amicable.” She sat and raised her arm. “Let’s do this thing!”

Chapter Thirteen

Enough is enough! Whatever was going on with Becca, he needed to get to the bottom of it and he needed to do it now.  Luckily, he didn’t have to look very far. He stepped outside the mess hall where they were interviewing the workers and found her standing in the middle of the roadway, looking up and down the row of greenhouses.

“See anything interesting?” He walked toward her.

Becca startled, spinning on her heel to face him. “Nothing yet.” She stepped around him.

Randy touched her arm. “I think we need to talk.”

“Oh, do you now? When did you decide this?” Her eyes blazed with anger.

He flinched. “What the hell are you so pissed off about?”

“It’s okay for you to shut down, avoid me, give me the silent treatment, but it’s not okay for me?”

“Becca, you don’t understand.” Randy reached for her hand, struggling with the desire to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

She waved his hand away. “Save it. In case you’ve forgotten, there’s a killer out there—a sick bastard who killed my sister.”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten. Give me a chance to explain.”

“Becca.” Rick called from the doorway. “Can you look at something for me?”

With her gaze trained on him, she walked away. “I’d be happy to.”

He kicked at the dirt road and watched her disappear through the doorway. Wow! I didn’t see that coming. He raked his fingers through his hair. Somehow he’d make her understand, but it would have to wait. They were almost done with the interviews and so far it hadn’t uncovered anything that might lead them to The Florist.

“Is everything okay?” Jacob pulled up beside him.

“Oh, yah.” Heat warmed his cheeks. “I guess my mind is someplace else.”

Jacob looked to the empty doorway. “I can see that.”

Randy quickly changed the subject.  “We’re almost done with your boys. Is it alright if we take a look in their bunkhouse next?”

“Sure. That’s not a problem.”

“I meant to ask after we left here the last time, but did you happen to see or hear that bike again?”

“Nope, I even asked around a bit with no luck.”

Randy patted his back. “Thanks for all of your help. We’ll try to wrap this up as soon as possible.”

He clamped a gloved hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. It seemed almost criminal to be in such a good mood. Get it together. This could be your biggest challenge yet. He smirked, patting his pocket for the umpteenth time. Thank God for my secret weapon. A tremor of anticipation brought actual goose bumps to his skin as he went over a mental checklist.

After a quick look up the road, he made his move and reached up to give the light bulb a turn. The doorbell pierced the still of night. He knew it wasn’t loud enough to alert a neighbour, but he still held his breath. He firmed his hold on the package in his hands. A cellophane-wrapped flower simply wouldn’t cut it with this guy.

Only a few seconds passed before he was rewarded by a string of curse words and the light switch flickering on and off several times. The door opened with the chain intact.

“Whatever you’re selling, I ain’t interested.”

“I have a delivery for a Mr. Kevin Baird. I’ll need a signature, sir.”

“It’s kind of late for a delivery, don’t you think?” Kevin grumbled, closing the door to unhook the chain.

A bear of a man stood in the doorway with one hand remaining on the door. His dishevelled appearance gave him a cave man air. In the same instant Kevin took the package from him, he pulled out his gun and pressed it against the guy’s temple.

“Step back into the house nice and slow or I’ll blow your fucking head off your shoulders right here.”

“What the f...? Are you fucking nuts?”

“Step back,” He snarled “Now!”

“Whoa, easy does it, I’m moving.”

The door barely closed behind them before Kevin threw the box at him, momentarily knocking him off balance. When he looked up, his adversary smacked a baseball bat against his open palm.

Amused, he chuckled. “Nice move, big guy. I’ll give you to the count of three to put that toy down. You don’t seriously believe you have a hope in Hell of using that on me, do you?”

“I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but you better pray I don’t get my hands on you, because I’ll rip your fucking head off if I do.”

He smirked. “One...two...three....”

The click of his gun filled the space between them, followed closely by the thud of the bat hitting the floor. Each step he took toward his victim, Kevin Baird took one back until his calves hit the sofa. With lightning speed, he took the secret weapon from his pocket and plunged the syringe into Kevin’s upper thigh. The sudden move knocked the guy backwards on the couch like a tree being felled.

“Ahh...what the hell?”

His laughter bounced off the walls. “Just a little neuromuscular blocking drug, but don’t worry, you won’t miss out. You’ll see and feel every little thing that is about to happen.” He put his face close to his. “You just won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.”

Kevin’s eyes grew bright. “You’re The Flor....” His facial muscles froze in mid-sentence.

“Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners?” He took the big man’s hand in his and pumped it twice. “Yes, I am The Florist. Nice to meet you.”

He took out rope and duct tape from his pack and held them up. “Not that you’ll be giving me a hard time, will you?” He pinched his victim’s cheek hard and then slapped his face, moving his head from side to side. “Good boy, I didn’t think so.”

The journal in his hands brought him comfort. “How about I read a little before we get this party