“I’m Reina Torres,” she said, stopping a few feet away from them. She rested a hip against the railing. “Sorry for the wait,” she said breathlessly. Patting her distended stomach, she added, “This big boy is pressing on literally everything. Tough getting around these days. If you don’t mind, my husband is on his way. Could we wait for him?”
“Of course,” said Josie. “We can go somewhere else, too, if you’d like. Anywhere you’d be more comfortable.”
“Oh, there are some benches there, along the other side of the pond.” She indicated the area behind them.
The stone benches formed a half-circle, all positioned to have a direct and unobstructed view of the waterfall. Reina lowered herself onto the nearest one with a huff. “You’re here about the equipment, right? My husband took photos. We’re getting cameras hooked up in that back lot. Insurance will cover most of it, thank God, but we’re talking tens of thousands of dollars?—”
Josie held up a hand, interrupting her. “I’m sorry. We’re not here about any equipment.”
“Oh,” Reina said, looking confused. “I just assumed you were from the sheriff’s office. Well, let’s definitely wait for my husband then.”
A few awkward moments slipped past as they waited. Noah lingered by the railing, watching the fish nip at anything that floated across the surface of the murky water.
Josie smiled at Reina. Hoping to break the tension, she asked, “This is your place?”
A grin broke out on the woman’s face. “Yes. Mine and my husband’s. Well, the nursery’s been in my family for a long time. My dad was a horticulturist, and my mother was a master gardener. This was their dream. Dad named the place after Mom. Liora.”
“How about you?” Josie pressed. “Did you also want to do this kind of work?”
Gone was the wariness in her eyes, replaced with sheer joy. “Oh yes. As far back as I can remember. I used to follow my parents around like a puppy, wanting to do everything they did. My dad started teaching me about some pretty advanced topics when I was very young. It’s in my blood, I guess.”
The way her palms rubbed circles over her belly, almost as if to soothe, made Josie think that her parents were no longer in the picture. Josie knew from viewing her driver’s license that Reina was thirty-eight years old. She was young to have lost both parents.
Noah turned toward them, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Was the pond your parents’ idea?”
“Oh no. That was Milo, my husband,” Reina said. “I think they both would have loved it, though. My dad died when I was fifteen and my mom died five years ago. Things were a little lean for a while. We had to figure out ways to stay afloat. Make this place more than just somewhere you went for flowers and garden supplies. Milo’s been working on making the greenhouses on this side of the property into some kind of maze or something. A place people can disappear into for a while and see all kinds of cool things. We’re doing a lot better these days, but his ideas will be a real draw.”
“That sounds really cool,” Noah offered.
A male voice cut through the air. “Reina? Reina, where are you?”
“By the pond,” she called. “On the benches.”
Josie saw Milo’s thick brown hair before anything else. He was tall with broad shoulders and the kind of sturdy build that came from working outdoors. He wore a blue T-shirt with the name of the garden center emblazoned across it, jeans and a pair of weathered work boots. Not even glancing at Josie and Noah, he went to Reina, leaning over to examine her, as if looking for injuries. “You okay? I got a call saying there were cops here. Finally.”
She motioned past him to Josie and Noah. “That’s them, but they’re here for something else. Officers, this is my husband, Milo.”
Josie and Noah introduced themselves and offered their credentials, which Milo peered at long and hard as if he was trying to decipher a puzzle of some kind. “Denton?” he said. “I thought the sheriff was sending someone. Our vans were vandalized this week, on top of everything else.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Noah. “But we can’t help you with that.”
“What are you doing all the way out here then?”
Josie lifted her chin in Reina’s direction. “We were hoping to talk to your wife about the Crimson Bride camellia she hybridized.”
“The Crimson Bride?” Reina’s nose twitched. “Why?”
Milo’s thick brows drew together. “What could possibly bring a couple of out-of-town police officers all the way here to talk about a flower?”
Noah delivered the news bluntly but with a calm only he could master. “The Crimson Bride was recently found at two crime scenes. A double homicide and an abduction.”
“Oh.” Reina pitched forward a little, one hand splayed across her stomach as the other reached blindly for her husband. As if he’d been anticipating it, he linked their fingers together before settling beside her.
Milo said, “I don’t understand. Are you sure it was the Crimson Bride? There are hundreds of different types of camellias, thousands of hybrids, and—and lots of flowers are mistaken for camellias.”
Josie took her phone from her pocket and found a photo of the flowers from the Barnes crime scene. She could tell by the way both their features tightened that they recognized it.
Reina’s free hand roamed over her belly in smooth, even strokes. “That’s my hybrid, yes.”
