Chapter 12
Theo Neville
The sign for Seldon’s Garden & Nursery was hand-painted, faded by years of sun and weather, and mounted on two wooden posts at the edge of a gravel lot. Theo pulled the SUV into a space near the entrance and killed the engine, though he didn’t reach for the door immediately.
Brook’s profiles were still turning in his mind.
Profile A or Profile B, it really didn’t matter which framework turned out to be correct. Either way, the person responsible for what had been buried in that greenhouse had once walked freely through this part of Indiana, and the thirty-year gap since didn’t guarantee they’d stopped walking.
If the subject was in his seventies, he was probably still alive. Still capable. Still potentially within driving distance of the estate where Brook was currently working a case while eight months pregnant.
If she had been a field agent rather than a consultant, the Bureau would have assigned her to desk duty months ago. There were rules for a reason, and Theo understood them, even if he hadn’t agreed with every one of them when they’d been applied to him.
Losing his eye had put him behind a desk faster than he could have filed an appeal, and the Bureau’s reasoning had been sound.
He understood it. That didn’t mean he’d accepted it quietly, and it didn’t mean Brook would have, either.
She would have burned the desk and mailed the ashes to headquarters before she’d have sat behind it voluntarily.
The reality was that the team would likely head back to D.C.
sometime next week once forensics finished the excavation, and they had a solid foundation of preliminary interviews.
In the meantime, Bit had spent a good portion of yesterday mounting surveillance cameras across the estate grounds, wiring the perimeter with motion sensors, and running cable from the monitoring station in the dining room to every access point he could identify.
No one was reaching the main house without Bit knowing about it.
That gave Theo some reassurance.
Not enough, but some.
He stepped out of the SUV and took in the nursery.
The heat hit him before both feet were on the gravel, and the air carried the rich, loamy scent of fresh soil and fertilizer that seemed to radiate from every surface of the operation.
It was larger than he’d expected. Several open-air greenhouses stretched across the property.
Rows of potted plants, shrubs, and bagged soil were arranged in orderly lines beneath the structures, and a handful of customers were wandering the aisles with flatbed carts.
Sprinklers ticked from somewhere deeper in the nursery, and the sound of water hitting broad leaves mixed with the low rumble of a truck idling near the loading dock.
Beyond the retail area, a chain-link fence separated the public space from what was clearly the business's working side. A loading dock, a storage building, and two delivery trucks were parked side by side with the nursery’s name stenciled on the doors in green lettering that had been touched up recently enough to appear brand-new.
Theo walked through the outdoor section until he reached a young man in a green vest who was restacking bags of mulch onto a wooden pallet. The kid couldn’t have been more than seventeen, with sunburned arms and a pair of work gloves that were two sizes too large.
“Excuse me. Is Ward Seldon around?”
The kid straightened and pushed a strand of hair off his forehead.
“Mr. Seldon is in his office.” He pointed toward the far edge of the lot, where a single-wide trailer sat on a concrete pad beneath a canvas awning. “Just knock. He’s usually in there this time of day.”
“Appreciate it.”
Theo headed in that direction, navigating between a forklift loaded with pallets and a customer who was trying to wrestle a potted tree into the back of a minivan. The midday sun was relentless, and the gravel radiated heat upward in visible waves that distorted the air above the parking surface.
The trailer was older but well-maintained, with aluminum siding and a set of wooden steps leading up to the door.
A window-mounted air conditioning unit hummed from the side panel, working hard enough to produce a thin stream of condensation that dripped steadily into a dark stain on the rocks below.
He climbed the steps and knocked.
“Come in,” a voice called from inside.
Theo opened the door and stepped into the trailer.
The temperature dropped by at least fifteen degrees, and the relief of it settled over him immediately.
The interior was a functioning office with filing cabinets along one wall, a desk covered with invoices and seed catalogs, and a calendar pinned above the phone with delivery dates circled in red marker.
The space smelled like coffee and potting soil, an oddly pleasant combination that suggested Ward Seldon spent most of his waking hours in this room and had long since stopped distinguishing between work and life.
The man behind the desk matched the DMV photo Theo had pulled that very morning.
Ward Seldon was in his late sixties, with a broad, weathered face and thinning gray hair combed neatly to one side.
He wore a short-sleeved button-down with the nursery logo on the breast pocket and reading glasses pushed up onto his forehead.
His hands were thick and calloused, resting on either side of an open ledger.
He had the build of a man who had spent decades doing physical work and hadn’t found a reason to stop.
“Mr. Seldon?” Theo extended his hand. The man didn’t seem bothered by the eye patch. “Theo Neville. I’m with a firm called S&E Investigations. We’ve been brought in by the Bureau to consult on a case involving the Ellingham estate.”
Ward’s handshake was firm and unhurried. He gestured toward the chair across from the desk.
“I figured someone would be coming around.” Ward shook his head in remorse. “Everyone heard that a body had been found on the estate. Part of me can’t believe it, but it also makes sense. Nestor would never have left his daughter. Please, have a seat.”
Theo angled the chair so he would have more room, then sat down.
The vinyl cushion exhaled beneath him with a slow, tired hiss.
It was fortunate that word hadn’t spread through the area about the additional remains.
Once those details leaked, which they surely would at some point, given that the forensics team was staying locally, Brook would need to release a statement on the Bureau’s behalf.
“I’d like to ask you some questions about your relationship with Nestor Ellingham, if you’re willing.”
“Of course.” Ward leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, though the posture didn’t read as defensive. It was more the stance of a man settling in for a conversation he’d known was coming for a long time. “What would you like to know?”
“I’ll start with what I can share.” Theo kept his tone measured and direct. “We don’t believe Nestor died from natural causes.”
Ward didn’t respond right away. His gaze dropped to the surface of the desk, and the creases around his mouth deepened.
The air conditioner cycled up with a shudder that rattled the window frame, and for a moment, it was the only sound in the trailer.
Ward drew a slow breath through his nose and released it before speaking.
“Is there a chance you’re wrong?” Ward asked, his thumb tracing the edge of the ledger on his desk.
“Thirty-some years is a long time. Everyone liked Nestor. He was brilliant. Genuinely a brilliant man. Not in the way people throw that word around, either. He wasn’t flashy about it, didn’t need everyone to know, but he could tell you the chemical composition of a soil sample just by running it through his fingers. He’d be right nine times out of ten.”
“How did the two of you meet?”
“Through the business, originally. He needed specialty soil and specific plant specimens for his research, and I was the closest supplier who could get him what he wanted. I started making deliveries out to the estate myself in the early days, before I had drivers on the route. We’d get to talking, and one thing led to another. ”
Ward’s expression softened. He reached for a coffee mug on the corner of the desk and turned it between his hands without drinking from it, the way people fiddled when they needed something to fixate on while they spoke about someone they’d lost.
“We weren’t as close as he and Cal were.
Those two were like brothers. Had been since they were young.
Cal taught science at the high school for decades, and he and Nestor could talk for hours about things that would put the rest of us to sleep.
But Nestor and I had our own thing. We shared a fondness for plants.
I don’t just mean the science of them, but the act of growing them.
There’s a patience to it that appeals to a certain kind of person. ”
“You admired his research?”
“I did. Very much.” Ward released the mug to lean forward, resting his elbows on the desk.
“After Claudine died, Nestor threw everything he had into finding a plant-based treatment for cancer. He believed certain hybrid compounds he was cultivating had cytotoxic properties. That they could target cancer cells without the devastating side effects of chemotherapy. The academic world didn’t take him seriously, of course.
He lost funding early on, but he kept going.
Funded it himself, worked out of that greenhouse around the clock.
I supplied whatever he needed, sometimes at cost, sometimes below it. I believed in what he was doing.”
“Did he ever talk about his progress? Whether he was making headway?”
“He was cautious about that. Didn’t want to overstate anything.
” Ward paused and rubbed the side of his jaw while he gazed out the side window.
Theo followed his stare, noticing the kid in the green vest loading bags of mulch into a customer’s truck bed, the sun catching the dust that rose from each bag as it landed.
“But I remember one evening, he called me to come take a look at something. He was excited, which was rare for Nestor. He said he’d isolated a compound that was showing real promise in his testing.
I didn’t understand the details, of course.
I’m a nurseryman, not a scientist, but I could tell from his face that he believed he was close to something. ”
“Did anyone else know about that breakthrough? Cal, for instance?”
“Cal would have known,” Ward said with a nod. “As I said, those two talked about everything. And it would have meant the world to Cal, more than most people.”
“And why was that?”
“Cal lost his sister to cancer,” Ward shared as he removed his glasses and tossed them on the desk. “Margaret. She was younger than Cal by about ten years. Colon cancer, I believe. She fought it for a while, but it took her in the end.”
Theo pulled a small notepad from the front pocket of his dress shirt and jotted down the names and details. Ward’s expression shifted, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face as though he wasn’t sure he should have shared something so personal. The discomfort pushed him to keep talking, though.
“You should know that was long before Claudine got sick. Cal had already been through that loss when Nestor’s wife was diagnosed, and I think that’s part of what bonded them so deeply.
” Ward held Theo’s gaze, waiting for another question.
When none came, he filled the silence. “Cal understood what Nestor was going through in a way that most people couldn’t, because he’d already buried someone he loved to the same disease. ”
A retired science teacher whose sister died of colon cancer, deeply embedded in the life and work of a botanist who was trying to cure the disease. A man with intimate access to the estate, to the greenhouse, to Nestor’s schedule, and a personal motivation that ran deeper than friendship.
Theo kept his expression neutral.
“Do you know Porter Voss?”
“Porter? Sure, but I haven’t spoken to him in years. Good guy.” Ward narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Are you suggesting that he had something to do with Nestor’s death?”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” Theo replied as he folded his notebook closed. “Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to hurt Nestor Ellingham?”
“No, not a soul.”
“You mentioned that you employed drivers at some point,” Theo said, redirecting the conversation. “Is it possible to get that list of names from you? For our reports, of course.”
“Turnover for that kind of position is high,” Ward warned him as he reached for the mouse of his computer.
“No one who worked for me from back then is still employed here, but I keep payroll records.
If you give me a minute, I can print you a list, though there won't be many names on it. I started out slow. Grew the business from there.”
“How many drivers did you start with?”
“Two, but Ray Freeling handled Nestor’s route. He stayed with me the longest, believe it or not. Retired around three years ago.”
Theo continued to ask additional questions, but no new information came to light.
The printer on a side table came to life with a mechanical groan, spitting out a list of employees from thirty years ago.
Two drivers and two retail employees. It wouldn’t take long to run the background checks and reach out to them for statements.
“I appreciate your time, Mr. Seldon.” Theo pulled a card from his wallet and set it on the desk. “If anything else comes to mind, anything about Nestor or the estate or the people who came and went during those years, I’d be grateful for a call.”
“Of course.” Ward took the card and held it between his fingers for a moment before setting it beside the phone. “I hope you find out what happened to him. If what you’re suggesting is true, you should know that Nestor deserved better than what he got.”
Theo nodded and rose from the chair. He shook Ward’s hand once more before stepping out of the trailer into the July heat.
The wall of humidity met him on the top step, and the contrast with the air-conditioned interior was sharp enough to make him squint.
The gravel lot shimmered in the afternoon sun, and the sprinklers he’d heard earlier had moved to a different section of the nursery, their rhythmic ticking carrying across the lot like a metronome.
He’d pulled his phone from his pocket before he was halfway to his vehicle and pressed Brook’s name on the display. She answered on the second ring. Theo spoke without preamble.
“Cal Brennan’s sister died of cancer.”