“They’re just boring.” He laughed. “The flower represents a powerful emotional expression—extreme love or pain. All things we experience in life. Sometimes the heart bleeds, no?”
“You’re right. Most people associate the rose with love and sometimes heartache. Maybe the bleeding heart is the new thing.” Her face brightened. “I’ll definitely include more bleeding hearts in my assortment from now on. Thanks for the inspo.”
“You’re welcome.” He paid with cash, grabbed the bouquet, and turned.
I held up a pot of calla lilies, blocking my face from his view. After meeting Kain and hearing details about the Black Rose Killer, I couldn’t help but suspect this man who had bought bleeding hearts from my shop too. I’d look up his contact information when I got back to Happy Flowers. I recalled he had a wife, but now he said he was buying flowers for his girlfriend. Was he a despicable cheater like Dennis? Why was he going to flower shops, gathering up bleeding hearts?
Could he be themurderer?
He left the shop, and I stepped out and followed him, keeping my distance. My hands trembled as I kept my gaze on him while he maneuvered between the crowds on the street.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kain
I parked my SUV a block away from Francisco’s address. Getting out, I shrugged on a UPS jacket and picked up an empty brown box from the trunk, heading toward his home. He had lived in a crowded residential area with multifamily homes and apartment buildings. I had to blend in and look approachable.
Though Francisco was dead, I needed information. Where did he live? Who lived with him? His daily routine. Was he close to his neighbors? Anything could help.
I found his home in the corner, walked up the steps onto a porch with an old chair, and glanced at the names on the two mailboxes. Bottega was on the second floor. I pressed the doorbell and waited. From the corner of my eye, I saw the curtains on the first-floor window move. Somebody was in the house, so I knocked on the door twice. A moment later, a noise sounded on the other side of the door.
A woman with frizzy brown hair opened it, smiling. “Is that my air fryer?” She wore a robe with an all-over cat print.
“No, this isn’t an air fryer. It’s for Francisco. Is he here?” The news didn’t identify Francisco as being dead.
“I’ve been looking for him too.” Her eyebrows squished together, studying me. “He’s got a pile of mail overflowing from his mailbox. I brought it in, waiting for him.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll come back for his signature. Are you his friend?”
“He and his brother rented the two-bedroom apartment from me. They’re good tenants. Pay on time and everything. They even repaired a burst pipe in my bathroom for free.” She tightened her robe and crossed her arms. “I haven’t seen his brother Mario in months. Francisco said his brother got a new job in a different city, but he looked worried. And now Francisco’s missing. Hope he’s not in trouble.”
“Does he usually get into trouble?” I asked, surprised that this woman wanted to share so much with a deliveryman.
“Just a hunch, you know?” She shrugged. “I met them at church. They were volunteers and needed a place to live after moving from Florida. I’m Jane, by the way.”
I chatted with her for a few more minutes, then excused myself. During my research on Francisco, I hadn’t noticed he had a sibling. But then again, I could’ve missed that detail because my focus had been on his connection to the Black Rose Killer.
I drove to Ozarrow Woods, hoping the visit would offer more clues. The old man at the gate gave me a folded map and told me where to park and when he was leaving for the day. I had to be out by five in the evening because he was locking the gate.
I parked in a gravel area and made my way down the dirt path, winding around trees and shrubbery. I wished I could’vetaken Eva along for a hike. Leaves crunched beneath my feet as sunlight streamed through the branches, warm and golden, flickering onto the path. Fresh air invigorated my lungs, the scent rich and alive with a hint of sweetness from honeysuckles somewhere in the distance.
Despite the bright and peaceful scenery, however, I knew these woods carried a dark energy that lurked in the soil, rocks, and trees. Though the underground complex that held me was just acres away, I had a feeling the darkness had spread over. I walked up to an edge where a large fallen tree had blocked part of the path.
I made a mental note to inform the guard about removing the tree. Climbing over the trunk, I wandered to a section with a ditch. It had been filled in with dirt; plants and moss now covered it. Despite that, I made out the low indentation, marking an area that had been disturbed. Perhaps there was an overflow of water here, or a sick tree had been removed.
A busy retail area was erected not too far from these quiet woods. No matter how lively and profitable that place was, it couldn’t erase the darkness that had been absorbed into the earth. How much blood had the soil swallowed? How many times had the pebbles and plant roots cried out in protest against the violence?
What did Senator Falcone plan on doing with these woods? Would he protect them from development? Would he succumb to greed if the right price were offered?
I kept walking and came to a chained fence with a sign that read,“Entering Ozarrow Public Grounds.” A few steps in, another large sign appeared on the paved path, displaying a map to campgrounds, a playground, and fishing locations around the lake.
As I made my way down the paved path, doubts stirred inmy stomach. What if Hawthorne survived the explosion and was just changing up his MO to confuse everyone?
Two joggers passed me. A woman walked by with her little white dog and grinned. “Lovely day to be out, huh?”
“Sure is,” I said. “Enjoy your walk.”
I came to an iron bench, sat, and glanced out at the lake. The peaceful scenery contrasted with the events that had occurred nearby. The darkness was just one step away from the light, blurring the demarcation line. I stepped over that line when I killed my father, changing my life forever.
