Turned out Dariel had been right. The long, snowy drive from NYC to Cortland was just the therapy Vanessa needed – as she left behind the towering skyscrapers of the city and entered a serene winter wonderland of sprawling fields and lush woodlands.
It was good to spend some quality time in her cherry-red Mitsubishi, too. It had cost her a small fortune to have it shipped over, and a few weeks for it arrive. But she’d got that vehicle with money her father had left her in his will. It felt like part of her. Part of him.
How would he feel about his ex-wife’s involvement in this criminal gang? His heart had been broken in two when she had left him. Then it had been shattered into pieces after Vincent went missing and she hadn’t even visited. It pained Vanessa to dwell on how devastated he’d be at the developments over the past year: first, the horror Vincent had unleashed on a village her father had so loved. And now this, his ex-wife’s involvement in the illegal trading of the creatures he so adored.
Vanessa felt tears threaten to ruin her mascara. She blinked them away and a few minutes later, pulled up outside the offices Dariel had directed her to. The one-storey building sitting among a copse of trees looked just like the small museum that it was, with a sign welcoming her to the USFWS CONSERVATION MUSEUM. She stepped out of her truck, stretching. She’d stopped an hour before for some lunch and to freshen up, but still her limbs ached and her emerald-green blouse felt stuffy and creased. She checked herself in the window’s reflection, reapplying some red lipstick and smoothing her black hair down. Then she walked towards the building through the snow.
When she got inside, she was greeted by a basic yet welcoming reception area, natural light filtering through the long, horizontal windows. Behind the reception area was a timeline of the USFWS, from its creation by Congress in 1871 to the signing of the Great American Outdoor Act in 2020. A female receptionist regarded Vanessa with interest as she introduced herself, eyes crawling over the tattoos on her arms, and her winged eyeliner. After a couple of minutes, Dariel emerged, his presence immediately filling the small reception area. A slight smile touched the corners of his mouth, softening the intensity of his gaze.
‘Isn’t this a treat?’ he said as he shook Vanessa’s hand, his long fingers callused against hers. ‘A forensic entomologist travelling all this way to see us.’
‘The treat’s all mine,’ Vanessa said. ‘Cortland is beautiful, especially in this weather.’
‘It’s not bad, is it? Coffee?’ he asked, gesturing to a coffee machine.
‘No, I’m fine.’
‘Journey OK?’
‘Not bad. My truck can handle anything. I drove past the actual USFWS HQ on the way. Why aren’t you based there?’
‘I convinced the Powers That Be I needed my own place,’ he said. ‘Half offices, half museum to highlight the wrongs of illegal wildlife trading. Speaking of which, let’s start with the museum.’ He gestured to the museum and she followed him through.
‘How you doing?’ he asked as he opened the door for her.
‘Oh, you know, how you’d expect after discovering your mother’s involved in an illicit insect trading ring.’
He laughed. ‘That’s one way to put it. The media’s reacted predictably after the captain’s press conference yesterday. Our press office has gone crazy.’
‘I bet they have,’ Vanessa said, as she took in the small museum with polished wooden floors below and exposed beams overhead. Modern, glass display cases punctuated the space with written guides. Vanessa’s eyes immediately fell upon a display housing several deceased insects. A beautiful Luzon peacock swallowtail, an endangered butterfly native to the Philippines. A giant African millipede. A magnificent Hercules beetle, its chitinous exoskeleton glinting even in death. All extraordinary but illegal specimens worth a small fortune on the black market. Vanessa felt a pang of sadness. These creatures, so fascinating and vital in their natural ecosystems, were now lifeless curiosities.
‘What a waste,’ she said.
‘Sure as hell is,’ Dariel agreed with a sigh.
Next was a display adorned with an array of fashion items, all crafted from now deceased insects.
‘Jesus,’ Vanessa said.
‘Jesus definitely had nothing to do with the people who sell these. A lot of these creatures would have still been alive when worn.’
‘Any of these linked to the auctions run by the Thorsens?’ she asked as she continued to look around.
‘No, the first time we’ve managed to seize any items specifically linked to the Thorsens was at the auction last week. Even then, there’s still no evidence to link it all to the Thorsens, just hearsay.’
Vanessa shook her head. As she did, she remembered her mother was part of this. She tried to align that version of her with the mother she remembered, who would sit so still on summer days just so butterflies would land on her.
‘OK, this is too depressing,’ Dariel said. ‘Let me show you the good stuff.’
He led Vanessa to another room which hummed with the low, rhythmic sounds of various insects. Inside, rows of carefully labelled and secured terrariums lined the walls, some empty, most housing a species of insect.
‘Think of this like a waiting room,’ Dariel explained. ‘We try our best to get wildlife rescues out to any locations we raid, but with funding the way it is, it’s not always possible. So we keep some here for a day or two until they can be collected.’
Vanessa’s eyes were drawn to a small enclosure where a majestic Blackburn’s sphinx moth fluttered weakly. Its five-inch wing span and the five vibrant orange spots that paraded down each flank of its abdomen really made it stand out.
‘We found this one during a raid in the Southtowns,’ Dariel said. ‘It was about to be turned into a brooch.’
‘It’s remarkable, what you do here,’ Vanessa said.
Dariel smiled, a hint of pride in his eyes. ‘It’s a constant battle. But every life we save, every illegal trade we stop, I feel like it makes a difference.’
‘It does.’ As he continued to show her around, Vanessa enjoyed his enthusiasm for these animals and his obvious passion for his job. He really wasn’t just a pretty face.
‘Hey, I think I need a drink and some lunch after my tour guide gig,’ he said as he looked at his watch later. ‘I know a decent bar that does more than decent food. You up for it?’
‘Sure, why not?’
Vanessa sat with Dariel in a corner booth at the Rusty Lantern, a quaint bar with polished wooden beams, antique bronze fixtures and a crackling fireplace. It was just a five-minute walk from Vanessa’s hotel, where her truck was parked, so was the ideal place to relax. Even better was the window above their booth which looked out over a creek that meandered through a snowy expanse. Not so great was the TV in the corner of the bar, rerunning Captain Williams’ press conference from the day before on mute, the images of each poison-laden item appearing on screen.
Vanessa took a sip of her rum and smiled. Dariel had been so right. She needed this. Even more, she needed the company. Since they’d arrived at the bar an hour ago, the conversation had flowed effortlessly between them. As Vanessa talked, Dariel listened intently, always a good sign in a man. And when he talked, he was funny, interesting, passionate. He may have given a tough guy aura during that raid, but the real Dariel was cheeky, funny … and very sexy.
‘So, what about you?’ Vanessa asked. ‘How’d you become a special agent for the USFWS?’
Dariel leaned back, his gaze drifting towards the scenery outside. ‘My abuelo – that’s my grandpa – he was a big influence. He taught me that every creature has a role, a purpose. It’s just what I grew up understanding. He was a damn good man.’
‘Was? Is he no longer with us?’
‘Who knows? I sometimes feel like he’s still around, you know? Like right now,’ he said, looking at the space next to her. ‘I can imagine him sitting next to you, and sizing you up, asking me who this strangely beautiful señorita sharing a table with his grandson is.’
‘He sounds like he has impeccable taste,’ Vanessa said, winking. ‘So where did you grow up?’
Dariel took a sip of his beer. ‘Miami. My dad was Cuban, mom from Miami. I trained to become a cop there.’
‘What made you specialise in wildlife?’
‘In my first year, we received an anonymous tip. Someone had noticed crates being transported at night and was pretty sure they were dogs. I was pulled in to help a search of the property. Seriously,’ he said, shaking his head in dismay, ‘the condition those spaniels were kept in. It sickened me.’ He took another quick sip of his beer to calm himself. ‘Anyway, I got talking to one of the USFWS law enforcement officers and it was like a lightbulb came on.’ He paused, tracing the rim of his glass with his finger as Vanessa watched him. ‘I realised I could make a difference, trying to protect what can’t protect itself, you know?’
‘And you came all the way to New York to do it?’
He shrugged. ‘That’s where the ex-wife comes in.’
‘Ah. You moved for love.’
He rubbed at his stubbled jaw. ‘Something like that.’
‘You mentioned having kids? How old are they?’
‘Six and eight.’ He smiled. ‘I get to have them for an entire week soon, my ex is going skiing. What about you? Any kids? Or … husband?’
‘Nope and nope.’
‘Too busy watching larvae hatch, hey?’
‘Larvae over humans any day. Not that I don’t like kids, or humans. Some of them, anyway.’
The waitress came over and they ordered some lunch.
‘So,’ Dariel said as the waitress walked away, ‘what are your impressions of Cortland so far?’
‘It hasn’t bored me yet, so I guess Cortland isn’t all that bad.’
Dariel raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming. Vanessa found herself captivated by the way the afternoon light accentuated the contours of his face and the slight roughness of his jawline.
‘Only “not bad”?’ he said, his voice a soft rumble. ‘I might have to try harder to impress you.’
‘I like to push people to be their best.’
As Dariel sipped on his beer, Vanessa’s eyes lingered on his lips touching the glass. He paused, his own gaze briefly dropping to her lips before meeting her eyes again.
She knew where this was leading and she didn’t mind one bit.
As the afternoon progressed, their conversation turned to deeper topics – their pasts, aspirations, and the complexities of the current investigation. Vanessa appreciated Dariel’s insightful comments and the way he listened, his gaze never wavering. She appreciated even more when he tore his tie off, unbuttoning the top of his white shirt to reveal a hint of dark hair and his bronzed skin. She imagined moving her lips across that skin.
‘So what about your mom?’ Dariel asked. ‘What’s she like? Or was she like? I guess it’s been so long since you saw her.’
‘She was a good mum … at first,’ Vanessa admitted. ‘She loved cooking for us and would prepare these elaborate curries on the weekends – the whole apartment smelling of spices and coconut milk.’ Dariel listened intently, his dark eyes never leaving her face. ‘But then …’ Vanessa’s voice trailed off. ‘She changed,’ she said eventually. ‘It was subtle at first. She grew more distant. Her art turned darker, almost morbid.’
‘Sounds like something was going on with her. What was your parents’ marriage like?’
‘I mean, I was a child. I didn’t really take much notice but as far as I knew, they were happy.’
‘And yet she just left one day?’
Vanessa nodded. ‘I was only seven. I came home from school, and my parents were waiting for me in the living room. Vincent was out in the garden, playing. I could tell it was serious. The looks on their faces. Both of them seemed so devastated. It was like Mum didn’t want to go but—’ She took in a deep breath. ‘Anyway, they both explained they were separating and that Mum would be moving to Brighton. No explanation why. I knew kids at school with divorced parents, but I never dreamed it would be my parents. And Mum being the one to leave? To move so far away? I guess I was in shock.’
Dariel sighed.
‘Sorry, I’m being insensitive,’ she said, suddenly remembering he was divorced.
‘Nah, it’s cool,’ Dariel said. ‘So, did you see your mom much after?’
The buzzing started up in her head. That bee, fluttering around in the crevices of her mind. Vanessa shook her head, hoping the buzzing would dissipate with the motion. ‘Haven’t seen her at all since.’
‘I’m sorry, Vanessa,’ Dariel said, placing his hand over hers. ‘And now all the latest stuff you’ve discovered …’
‘Just another turn in the twisty tale of the Marwoods. It’d be nice to have a normal family, you know?’
‘But you’re anything but normal. It’s what makes you.’
There was an intensity in Dariel’s gaze as he said that. The air between them crackled with an electric tension.
‘Can we talk about something more fun?’ Vanessa said, the buzzing too much now, her hand slipping from his as she took another long sip of her rum and Cherry Coke. ‘I need a reprieve from the chaos of my life at the moment.’
Dariel raised an eyebrow. ‘I can do fun.’
They ended up ordering more drinks, and by the time they poured out of the bar two hours later, they were drunk from the alcohol but also with each other, as the winter sun shone over them and the surrounding snow-laden valley.
‘Wanna walk a bit?’ Dariel suggested as he buttoned up his thick winter coat.
‘Sounds good.’
They both walked towards a secluded stream below, the tension between them tangible.
‘I know about your brother, by the way,’ Dariel suddenly said out of the blue.
Vanessa blinked.
‘Shit, sorry,’ Dariel said. ‘I have a habit of ruining the moment.’
‘It’s fine. But yeah, I have a serial killer brother who I don’t enjoy talking about.’
Dariel examined her face. ‘I really have ruined the mood, haven’t I?’
‘What mood was that, then?’ she asked, stepping closer to him.
‘The same mood I’ve been in since the first time I laid eyes on you?’ he said, voice husky. ‘The kind of mood that makes me want to see and feel what hides beneath those unique clothes of yours.’
She took his hand, placing it palm down beneath the collar of her coat and on the skin exposed beneath. ‘This is how it feels,’ she whispered.
Dariel glided his thumb across her collarbone. ‘You’re something else, Dr Marwood.’
He pulled her towards him, his lips meeting hers, soft, questioning, the scent of his cologne and the roughness of his stubble making her feel heady. She hesitated a moment then kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. Their kisses grew more intense, Dariel gently pushing her against the tree behind her, both laughing as snow fell on their heads from the branches above.
He kissed her neck again and she looked up at the blue sky. She knew what she was doing, patching up the broken wings of herself like her dad used to with his butterflies. Muffling the noise with touch and sensation. Maybe Dariel had known it, too, when he’d invited her here. Maybe he saw her like one of the creatures he protected who couldn’t protect themselves. That was fine. She’d let him think that. Sometimes the truth – that she could protect herself, always would – drove men like him away. And right now, she needed him right there, making her feel good.
‘As much as I’m enjoying every moment of this,’ he whispered to her, ‘I’m not sure getting frostbite was on my list of New Year resolutions.’
She smiled. ‘You going to walk me back to my hotel room, then?’
‘Sure.’
When they got to the hotel, they paused outside. ‘You can come in, you know,’ Vanessa said.
‘I was hoping you’d say that.’
When they got into the hotel room, there was barely a moment before their lips were meeting again, both stumbling onto a velvet sofa, Dariel’s hand gliding up her back. It wasn’t long before they made their way to the bed, Vanessa sinking down onto the covers and watching as Dariel undressed before her, her eyes taking in his tanned, toned body, enjoying the mischievous glint in his eye.
She had a brief flashback to the night she spent with Damon before she moved to New York. The urgency and the tug and pull between them. As Dariel slowly undressed her, too, softly kissing her skin, part of her yearned for Damon’s teeth on her, the nibbles and the hard fingers pressing into her flesh.
But no, she couldn’t bear more darkness. She needed light, she needed good, she needed secure. Later, as Dariel dipped his head between her legs, she wondered to herself if this would ever be enough for her. If, like her brother, maybe her mother, she could never be satisfied with anything but complicated and dangerous. But then all sensation took over and any lingering questions disappeared into the way Dariel was making her feel.
Later, as she lay in Dariel’s arms, he examined her face. ‘You could be a TV star like your ex, you know.’
‘My ex? You know about Damon?’
‘I may have done some light googling. Seriously, though, you got that hot scientist vibe going on.’
‘Please don’t put me in the same category of tanned, perky anthropologists from Indiana Jones-type films. I’m a size fourteen perimenopausal mess who needs a truckload of make-up to look half decent.’
Dariel smiled, stroking her cheek. ‘You look great without make-up.’
She laughed. ‘Dariel, I’m still wearing make-up. In fact, when I went to the loo just now, I did a little touch-up.’
‘I love your honesty. I still think you’d make a great TV star.’
Vanessa rolled her eyes. ‘You sound like Cordelia Montgomery’s agent.’
‘Heidi Stone?’
‘You know her.’
‘Of her.’
‘She accosted me in the loos at Cordelia’s funeral, promising to make me a star.’
He leaned up on his elbow, a serious expression on his face. ‘I would not trust her. My cousin is an actress. Heidi Stone has quite a reputation.’
‘What kind of reputation?’
Dariel shook his head. ‘Very shady. Known for losing it if a client drops her, which was quite a few after her drug issues.’
Vanessa raised an eyebrow. ‘Drug issues?’
‘Yeah, it’s an industry secret.’
‘I wonder if Ru and the team know about it?’
‘I’m sure they do, but I’ll drop him a message just in case.’ He reached for his phone then frowned. ‘Shit.’
‘What’s up?’
He held the phone up to her, showing a breaking news headline:
Another suspected poison victim.