“I did. She told me to come to you.”
That surprised me.
Diane rarely wasted my time unless the waste had value.
I studied Brooke’s face.
“You’re afraid.”
“Yes.”
“Of what he’ll do?”
“No,” she whispered. “Of what he already did.”
Before I could ask what she meant, Henry stepped forward.
“Mrs. Grant.”
His tone changed the air.
Through the glass walls of the greenhouse, I saw a black sedan creeping up the private drive.
Not Thomas’s car.
Not Diane’s.
Brooke saw it too.
All the color left her face.
“They followed me.”
Henry locked the greenhouse door.
“Who?” I asked.
Brooke backed away from the glass.
“The men from the study.”
The black sedan stopped near the fountain.
Two men stepped out.
Both wore dark coats.
Both looked toward the greenhouse.
Henry reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone.
“Police?”
I nodded.
One of the men approached the greenhouse slowly, as if visiting a public garden.
He raised one hand and tapped on the glass.
Brooke made a small sound behind me.
The man smiled.
Then he held up an envelope.
My name was written across the front.