Camy Tang - Formula for Danger

“They do—to monitor temperature and humidity, and also to alert when a window or door is opened. But the system in greenhouse four didn’t go off. I checked it, and it looks like the thief tampered with it.”

“Aren’t those security alarms top-of-the-line? High-tech?”

He nodded. “Whoever did this was a professional, not your average thief.”

The mild California fall breeze was suddenly frosty against her skin. “How about the other greenhouses?”

“I checked them all. Only yours was broken into.”

“Only mine?” This was a blow she didn’t know if she could bear, not on top of everything that had happened tonight. She bit her lip.

It almost looked as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands, finally resting them on his slim hips. “I don’t understand it. Some of the plants in my other greenhouses are extremely rare and valuable, but whoever came by didn’t even touch them.”

She’d seen those plants—exotic orchids and rare rain-forest species, mostly commissioned by wealthy clients because of Edward’s reputation for cultivating delicate tropical plants. “None of them were taken?”

If the burglar could have dismantled the security alarm for one greenhouse, surely he could have dismantled the security alarms for the others. Or maybe he hadn’t had time to because Edward had discovered the thief’s activities. But why bother with destroying her plants when he could have more quickly gotten into the other greenhouses and stolen the rarer species?

Edward’s eyes pinned her with concern and gravity. “The thief entered only greenhouse four, Rach—the thief was only after your plants.”

Edward hated chaos, and it surrounded him in greenhouse four—broken pots, torn leaves and potting soil dusting everything. He stood in the midst of the destruction and sighed.

It wasn’t actually that bad. He’d discovered the open door before the temperature had dropped too much, and now Rachel’s plants were all in greenhouse seven. He was also planning on paying for an evening guard to walk the greenhouses—at least until the person responsible for this was caught.

Detective Carter glanced up from where he surveyed some toppled tables. “It would have been better for me if you’d left the scene as is, Edward.”

“Sorry, Detective, but Malaysian basil is extremely sensitive to temperature and humidity. The plants could have died within the hour.”

Detective Carter shrugged and went back to taking notes.

“Thanks for convincing Rachel not to come out here tonight, Horatio,” Edward said.

The detective shook his head, his thinning red-gold hair glinting dully in the fluorescent light. “She didn’t need to see this. She’s had a bad night already. How many plants survived?”

“Almost all of them, actually.”

Horatio grunted.

“My brother, Alex, and I counted as we transferred the plants. We’re only missing about twelve of them, and I’m sure there are a couple lost in the piles of dirt. Some will die later, but we’ll try to prevent that.”

“I’m about done here.” The detective flipped his notebook closed. “You mentioned Alex took pictures of the greenhouse before you two moved the plants?”

Edward nodded. “He’s in greenhouse seven right now.”

“Good. I wanted to talk to him anyway.”

It always amazed Edward how Alex had become such good friends with Detective Carter, who had been the man who had arrested his brother all those years ago for robbing a convenience store.

“I hope not too many plants die because of tonight.” Horatio paused as he pulled open the door. “Rachel has been working pretty hard on this new product.” He left the greenhouse, heading toward the south side of the property.

Edward’s jaw tensed. “Yes,” he said softly to himself. He knew exactly how hard she’d been working. At least, how hard she’d started working three months ago. She was probably driving herself into the ground by now.

And why should he care?

He was fooling himself if he thought he didn’t care. Seeing her on her knees, her eye swollen and red, had shot him through the heart.

For the past year he had been growing the special Malaysian basil plants she used to create the scar-reduction cream that she planned to launch in a few months. During that year they had grown closer, but a couple of months ago she had discovered how truly revolutionary her product was. She had then thrown herself into her research with single-minded purpose and insanely long hours.

She had spent less time with him, and he had tried not to let it bother him at first—after all, Rachel’s cream, thanks to the Malaysian basil as the secret ingredient, was truly a breakthrough product in reducing scarring, and they were only working together, not dating. But up until that point they had been getting closer, and he had wanted to see if she would take their relationship beyond a professional one. He had asked her to dinner at his mother’s house, to meet his family.

She had been pleased and excited, which got his hopes up. But the night of the dinner, thirty minutes late, she had called to say she had found a new formulation and wanted to test it. That she was sorry to have to cancel last minute. Maybe next time?

Mama had been disappointed. For Edward, Rachel’s phone call had caused a twist of pain in his gut because it had reminded him of Papa’s excuses, the way Papa would cancel last minute, the way Papa would put work before his relationships and all the bitterness and pain coloring Edward’s memories of his father.

To protect his heart, he had made a decision to back away from their friendship before it became more than that. He’d thought a couple of months of polite phone conversations and professional meetings here at the greenhouse meant he had distanced himself emotionally.

He’d been deluding himself.

He threw himself into the cleanup work, trying to sweep away the vision of her bruised face. After clearing a path through the dirt and pottery shards on the floor, he righted the tables that had been knocked over, making a mental note to fix the broken leg on one of them.

Snap!

His heart stopped in his chest. The sound had been too loud—like a heavy foot stepping on a branch.

Horatio had left several minutes ago to talk to Alex in greenhouse seven, which was in the opposite direction of where the sound had come from, so it couldn’t be either of them. Which meant…

An intruder was outside in the darkness.

He exited the greenhouse as casually as he could, listening for sounds of running footsteps just in case the intruder had seen him leave through the glass of the greenhouse windows and was now escaping. No sounds except a soft rustle of tree leaves in a stray night breeze.

It took too long for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He moved away from the greenhouse door by feel and smell more than sight, his shoes padding against wet leaves and grass.

The crickets from the pond were loud. He hunkered down near a tree, still and tense.

Suddenly he saw a shadow move.

He circled around, avoiding patches of dry leaves that could give him away, keeping the shadow in sight.

Then the man stopped moving.

Had the figure heard him? Edward froze, trying to pick the intruder out from the darkness. It was almost impossible—he had to wait until the figure moved again.

Nothing stirred in the darkness for what seemed like hours. His hands started to numb from the cold night air, so he eased them into his pockets to warm them, never taking his eyes from where he’d last seen the intruder. This was private property, and he resented this invasion.

Edward saw a slight movement. The man was short and stocky, or maybe he was hunched down. He almost didn’t seem to be trying to stay out of sight. He had stopped under an orange tree, and the overhanging branches partially hid him from sight and protected him—Edward couldn’t grab him while the arms of the tree circled him.