Kat ran the two blocks to Harry’s house in the rain. After the snowplow incident, she’d avoided driving Jace’s truck as much as possible. It gave her the creeps after such a targeted attack. She sprinted around the corner, relieved to see that Hillary’s black Porsche wasn’t parked out front. Neither was Harry’s Lincoln, or any other cars for that matter.
She hoped she wasn’t too late. She cursed herself for leaving the pesticide at Harry’s place. A major misstep, since it was additional potential proof of what had poisoned Harry. What if it was gone? The receipt alone wasn’t enough evidence that someone was trying to harm him. Leaving the pesticide at Harry’s also meant ample supply for future poison doses. What had she been thinking?
Hillary would be long gone by now, having already harvested Harry’s money, credit line, and everything else. Including his house, his last thing of value. And soon, possibly his life.
Kat puzzled over why Hillary would take such an extreme step. She already had all his money and his house. What else was there?
A split second later she realized there was something else. Harry had a life insurance policy. She tore down the driveway towards the garage. Hillary wasn’t going to get away with this. Not if she could help it.
The freezing rain pelted down loud and hard, splattering mud up onto her running shoes. Kat shivered, wishing she’d worn something waterproof.
She landed in a puddle and winced as cold water seeped into her shoes. They squished as she jogged the last few steps down the driveway to the padlocked garage door. She shoved her frozen fingers into her pocket and fished out the key. She fumbled with numb fingers, trying to work the rusty lock. Finally the sticky tumbler turned.
She opened the garage and placed the padlock on the door latch. She sighed in relief when she spotted the pesticide bags still above the workbench, untouched. She hesitated, uncertain. Was this a crime scene? If so, was removing the bag tampering with the evidence? But she couldn’t leave it to be used again.
The thundering rain increased in volume as she entered the garage, as if on cue. It drowned out her thoughts like a conductor’s crescendo. Kat glanced at the open door. It was black outside except for the cold sodium light of a streetlamp across the street. It glistened off the spikes of rain as they charged to the ground. She’d better hurry before she froze to death.
Should she take the pesticides, or leave the bag here?
In the end she decided to take it. Of course Hillary could simply buy another bag, but at least this way she had removed the poison source, and preserved the evidence. She pulled the bags down one by one and deposited them on the workbench.
Evidence. She stared at her hands. She had touched the bag too.
But the most important thing was to remove the poison. Maybe she could tie these particular bags to the Garden Heaven video footage. Lot numbers could be tied to dates, and so on. Of course, it all rested on her hunch about this pesticide. Nothing was proven yet.
She regretted not driving over in the truck. The thought of lugging ten pounds of pesticides for two blocks wasn’t exactly appealing. She searched through Harry’s garage, looking in drawers and boxes for a plastic bag to protect the bag from the rain. The plastic would also preserve the fingerprints on the bag. Of course, that included her own.
She bent down and searched through a pail of plastic bags.
A shadow blocked the outside light and Kat turned towards the door.
“What are you doing in here?” Hillary’s voice was unmistakable.
Kat rose to her feet to face Hillary. She kicked herself for not realizing sooner that Hillary would be back for the poison. And to cover her tracks.
“Answer me. Why are you here, Kat? This isn’t your house.” Hillary stood in the doorway, arms crossed. She wore jeans, boots, and a black pullover. “You don’t belong here.”
“I—I’m just checking on something for Harry.” Kat shivered.
Hillary scoffed as she entered the garage. “Checking on what? Harry doesn’t need anything. Certainly not from you.”
Kat glanced at the workbench, glad she hadn’t already picked up the bag. At least Hillary wouldn’t know she was after the pesticide. “Why are you here, Hillary? It’s not your house either.”
Hillary smirked but said nothing. Instead, she shook her plastic water bottle and stepped towards the workbench.
“I don’t have time for your ridiculous accusations, Kat. I’ve got enough problems of my own without you harping at me.” Hillary glanced at her watch.
“I’ll bet you do. Late for something? Or maybe things aren’t wrapping up as quickly as you hoped they would?”
Hillary dropped her water bottle on the workbench, right beside the pesticide bag.
Hillary wore gardening gloves. Had Hillary been wearing them when she administered the poison?
Kat flashed back to the Garden Heaven video. Hillary had gloves then too. Were Kat’s fingerprints the only ones on the pesticide bag?
She shuddered. Maybe she was just being paranoid. The garden center visit was the one anomaly that couldn’t be explained away. Hillary had never been a gardener. She certainly didn’t nurture and grow things. She killed them.
“I think you should leave now,” Hillary said.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Kat stood her ground.
Hillary pointed a trigger finger at Kat and laughed. “I’ll give you thirty seconds to disappear. Or else.” She marched towards Kat, blocking the light from the open door.
Kat felt all semblance of self-control vanish. Enough was enough. “How could you do this, Hillary?”
“Do what?” Hillary flashed her whitened veneers. But her smile was cold.
“You think I don’t know what you’re up to?” Kat didn’t mention the poison. “The credit cards, the bills? Your name on Harry’s house title? A new low, even for you. Are you so desperate that you have to steal an old man’s last hope for a comfortable life?”
“How dare you accuse me of stealing! You should know. You stole my life.” Hillary backed against the workbench, in front of the pesticide bags.
“What are you talking about?” Kat moved closer. “You’re responsible for your own life. Nothing I do changes that.”
“He’s my father, Kat, not yours. I’m sick of you muscling in, getting half of everything. You have no right to anything.”
“Half of what?”
Hillary didn’t answer. She grabbed a screwdriver off Harry’s workbench and stabbed the pesticide bag. She ripped it open and lifted it above her head, releasing a dusting of powder. Then she charged Kat.
Clouds of powder burst from the bag, enveloping Kat’s head and face. Kat gasped as it covered her face, neck and shoulders, invaded her nostrils and lungs. She dropped her head, and shielded her eyes with her arms. But it was too late. The powder was everywhere. It stuck to her wet clothes, covered her shoes and coated the garage floor. She gagged, inhaling the pesticide into her lungs. She flailed her arms and thrashed, momentarily blinded as the powder stung her eyes.
Kat’s eyes burned as she slowly opened one. She rubbed her eyes and staggered forward. She had to flush the poison from her eyes, but the nearest sink was inside the house.
“Everything here is mine. Is that clear?” Hillary turned and walked away, the half-empty bag in one hand.
Then the door slammed and the padlock clicked.
“Oh, and cuz—I’ll be sure and tell Dad you said goodbye.”