Chapter 22
The moment Izzy stepped into Petal Pushers, the scent of lavender and fresh greenery wrapped around her like an old friend. But the comfort she usually felt here didn’t settle in. Not today.
The air was heavier now. Tense. As if the walls themselves remembered what had been done. The faint smell of smoke lingered. In a bar-b-que restaurant, the smell of wood fire was enticing. Here, it was a reminder of something sinister.
She paused at the doorway, letting the stillness settle before stepping inside. Ms. Jillie had already opened up and was at the counter unpacking a box of vases. The older woman glanced up and gave a warm smile, but Izzy could still see the faint worry behind her eyes.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Ms. Jillie said. “I was just restocking the display shelves. Didn’t want to mess with anything special.”
Izzy nodded and walked behind the counter. “Thanks, Ms. Jillie. I’m going to check the greenhouse and water the plants.”
Ms. Jillie reached over and gently squeezed her hand. “You take your time.”
The greenhouse behind the shop still carried that faint, damp smell from last week’s pipe issue and, again, the smoke. Sunlight spilled in through the high windows, dancing over rows of potted begonias and peace lilies. Izzy walked slowly, scanning everything.
She wanted to believe this was still hers. Her place. Her peace. But paranoia slid in around the edges like a creeping fog.
When she reached the pegboard, her breath hitched.
The pruning shears were gone. Again.
Her pulse quickened. She stepped closer, checking the pegs. No note. No tag moved. No tools shifted.
Just… missing.
She turned slowly, taking in every detail of the space. One of the floor mats by the service sink was slightly askew. She hadn’t noticed that before. Had someone come back here? After she closed up for the day yesterday?
Her throat tightened. She hurried to the front of the store. "Ms. Jillie, did you go into the greenhouse this morning?"
"No dear, I came in and saw the boxes stacked from yesterday's delivery, and began unpacking them. Why, is something wrong?"
"I don't know. I hope not."
She pulled out her phone and texted Mitch.
Shears missing again. Greenhouse floor mat looks moved.
His reply came a moment later.
On my way. Don’t touch anything.
She pocketed her phone and backed up a few steps, her heart thudding. Looking up, she saw Ms. Jillie watching her, her brows wrinkled in concern. Izzy tried to smile, but it felt as fake as it likely looked.
"Izzy?"
She shook her head. This sweet little lady would think she was going mad if she started blathering on about missing shears and a mat that was crooked. Big deal.
"I'm okay. I just seem to have misplaced my pruning shears."
Why? Why take the shears? They weren’t valuable. They weren’t even new. But the message was clear: I was here. I can still get in.
Her fingers curled into fists. She wouldn’t let fear take root. Not here. Not anymore.
By the time Mitch arrived, she’d moved back into the shop, pacing near the front window.
“You okay?” he asked, stepping in with that focused intensity she was beginning to crave. She nodded, swallowing the tight lump in her throat.
“In the greenhouse,” she said quietly.
He didn’t hesitate. He disappeared into the back, and she followed at a distance. Mitch crouched by the mat, then stood, scanning the area with sharp eyes.
“Definitely disturbed,” he muttered. “And you’re sure the shears were there yesterday?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “They were right there.” She pointed at the empty hook.
Mitch turned toward her, his expression grim. “He came back.”
He didn’t need to say the name. They both felt it.
“I thought maybe we were getting close to the end of this,” she said, her voice trembling. “But now it just feels like he’s reminding us that we’re not done yet.”
Mitch closed the distance between them and took her hands. “We are getting close. This is him lashing out, making noise before he’s caught. He must enjoy scaring you.”
She met his eyes, holding onto them like they were a lifeline. “Do you ever wonder what I did to deserve this?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said firmly. “This isn’t about you being a target. It’s about him being a coward. A manipulator. And we’re closing in.”
His words soothed something raw inside her. But it was more than reassurance, it was the way he said we . Like she wasn’t alone in this fight. Like maybe, just maybe, she had someone willing to face the storm with her.
He lifted one hand to her cheek, letting it rest there for a beat. “I meant what I said, Izzy. I’m not going anywhere.”
She leaned into his touch, her voice barely a whisper. “I believe you.”
They stood like that for a long moment, until the buzz of Mitch’s phone broke the spell.
He glanced at it. “It’s Jayson. He might have something. I had him check the cameras.”
Izzy nodded. “Go. I’ll begin watering the plants.” She stepped away a couple of steps, then stopped.
“I'll have Jayson here in a few minutes to change the locks.”
“I can call a locksmith.”
He hesitated, then leaned in and brushed a kiss to her temple. "Not until we know who we can trust. We'll keep this in-house right now. Go to the drawer and pull all the keys to any of the outside doors. I'll take this call."
She nodded and turned toward the shop. After stepping into her office, she opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out the keys from inside. She took a deep breath. Travis was correct; she should have had them secured and organized. She'd do that from now on.
She spent time sorting the keys. There were two keys to the front and back doors. And two keys to the fertilizer shed out back. One key to the cash register and one to the safe.
Her brows shot up into her bangs. She inserted the key into the safe and opened the door. Inside, she had a zippered bank bag where she kept cash, checks, and receipts. That was there. She pulled it out and opened it. Yesterday's money, complete with deposit slip for today, lay neatly inside.
She had a safe deposit key at the bottom of the bag and an extra key to her delivery van.
The only other things in the safe were her mother's wedding and engagement rings.
The blue velvet box still lay at the back of the safe.
She pulled the box out and opened the top.
Her mother's rings glinted and sparkled in the overhead light.
She remembered her mom wearing the rings every day.
But she insisted Izzy take them upon her death, and if you don't honor your loved one's wishes after they're gone, what kind of person are you?