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“My mom was a master gardener. I helped her often. It was a labor of love. Much like what I’m cultivating here.” He leans in farther. “You will bloom,” he murmurs. “We both know it, and the open blooms I’m going to create, remaking you, will sing.”
I say nothing. He’s not wrong.
“Storm’s coming,” he says louder so the others can hear. “Hurricane Jodie. She decimated the Bahamas.”
One of the flowers—one I actually recognize, Ivy—raises her head, eyes wide. He snaps his fingers, and she immediately resumes her resting position.
“Where is the other garden girl?” I ask.
His eyes darken, and dread fills my belly with churning acid.
I know she’s dead. I don’t know why or what purpose that served and I dare not ask.
“No worries,” he says to us all. “The hurricane can’t stop me. I always get what I want. Now it’s time to make my next move.”
“What move?”
“The one that gets me what I want and sets in motion the next act.” As he says this, the song crescendos and comes to an end.
And I know that I am coming to an end too.
Chapter Eleven
Blue Harbor
SCU beach house
Monday, September 3
12:05 p.m.
“Catherine Overly worked the day shift as a server at the Blue Crab,” Ty told Owen. “Her last shift was Friday and ended at three o’ clock. Coworkers said she talked about a spicy date that night. She didn’t show up to work Saturday or Sunday. Manager called and left voice mails and texts. Said it wasn’t like Catherine.”
They’d searched online for Catherine wheels, a white spidery-legged flower. Asa and Violet hadn’t returned from interviewing the Overly family. Selah was combing social media accounts.
“Did she say who the hot date was? Name? Description?” Owen asked as he entered new information into the geopattern location system.
“He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. According to the staff, she had been talking to him for a little while, and noted he was a mystery she wanted to solve.”
Owen opened a box of pushpins. “I’m not a fan of the mystery.”
“O, that’s literally your job description. You solve mysteries.” Tiberius took a long pull from his bottle of water.
“I mean in relationships. I don’t want a woman of mystery. I want someone to tell me what they’re thinking, where they want to eat, and not to use cryptic words like ‘I’m fine.’ Because they never are fine.”
“Women are cold cases. We ain’t ever gonna solve ’em.” Ty massaged his temples. “I have a perpetual headache. I had to buy a roll of antacids yesterday. Popping chalky pills to help with emotional heartburn ain’t working.”
“We gonna solve this one, though.” Owen’s somberness echoed Ty’s. “You got a son, man. A son. What’s that feel like?”
The emotion was hard to describe for someone who didn’t have a lot of good words. “Like I’m having the best dream after living in a nightmare. Except I can’t act on it. Can’t do anything but play video games and try to steal glimpses of him. He looks like me. It’s weird. I made this little being who’s lanky and kind of disrespectful, but funny.”
“So he takes after you in all areas.” Owen grinned. “I want to meet him. Meet the little Granger. God help us all.” He shoved a pin where the Blue Crab was located.
“We gotta find this guy before the hurricane. I won’t leave without my son knowing he has a father. Who...” His throat tightened. “Who loves him. I’ve known about him for a hot second, but I do, man. I love him. Like...it’s crazy and weird and how does that even happen?”
“It’s called being a dad—a good one. You’ll make a good father, Ty. For real. My dad was never around. My uncles stepped up though.”
“I don’t know how to be a dad,” Ty admitted. “My dad was sick in the head. He never harmed me physically, but he had weird ideas about God and life and women. He was all into control—controlling his church, his people and his family. I will never be controlled again, and I’m not gonna control what my kid believes either.”
