Page 53 of The Night Island

“There aren’t many reasons for moving Keever’s body,” Luke said. “The obvious one is to make sure it doesn’t make it back to the mainland and into the hands of the authorities.”

Talia caught her breath. “No body, no questions.”

“When you think about it, there’s no reason why Keever’s death has to be reported.”

“But we all saw the body.”

“The only thing Jasper Draper, Oliver Skinner, and Marcella Earle care about is getting back to the mainland,” Luke said. “Reporting Keever’s death is not their problem. They’ll leave that to management.”

“Who won’t have to be bothered if there’s no body.” Talia paused, thinking through the logic. “Jasper and Oliver and Marcella won’t be a problem for Nathan Gill. The Venners probably aren’t, either. But you and I are. He doesn’t know that, though.”

“We have to assume he does know it,” Luke said. “The missing body isn’t the only news. Keever’s cabin was searched, but not for the drugs. They are still there. And here’s the next headline: no one is living in the Night Gardener’s cabin.”

“Meaning?”

“It’s empty,” Luke said. “There’s no indication that anyone has stayed there for a long time. No towels. No clothes. No sheets for the bed. A layer of dust on everything. It had the smell a room gets when it hasn’t been opened up in a long time.”

Talia sank down on the side of the bed. “This is so weird. If Pomona Finch isn’t living in that cabin behind the conservatory, where does she live?”

“Damned if I know,” Luke said. He sprawled in the room’s single chair, his legs outstretched, a fresh pair of socks on his feet. His boots were sitting in front of the small heater, drying out. “Probably inside the conservatory. That place is big, and there’s a jungle inside. You could conceal an entire camper van in there. The more interesting question is, why did Venner lie to us about the Night Gardener’s sleeping arrangements?”

“He and Octavia have been living here for six months,” Talia said. “By now they’ve probably learned a few things about whatever is going on here and they know not to talk about it.”

“Judging by that argument you overheard, Octavia has had enough. Maybe she’s ready to walk before the contract is up.”

“If she leaves, Nathan Gill can forget trying to keep the Unplugged Experience going as a cover. Her cuisine is the only thing that makes Night Island even moderately appealing. People are certainly not going to pay for Clive’s washed-up meditation chatter.”

“No,” Luke agreed.

Talia studied the vines on the other side of the window for a moment and then touched the glass with her fingertips, trying to remember how high the snakelike greenery had been the day before.

“I swear, those vines were just starting up the window yesterday,” she said. “They are at least a couple of inches taller this morning. I can’t believe how quickly plants grow in these gardens. It’s like they are on steroids. It doesn’t feel natural.”

“Nothing about this damned island feels right. Whatever happened here occurred decades ago. Those old botanical experiments must have altered the local ecosystem. And who knows what the Wynford Institute for the Study of Medicinal Botany is screwing around with now?”

Talia touched the crystal pendant at her throat. The vibe was still there; still strong. Still murky. She turned to face Luke. “I was sure we were close to finding Phoebe when we arrived on the island, but now it feels like we’re trapped in the garden labyrinth. Going in circles.”

“About that,” Luke said quietly. “We may have an exit strategy.”

He got up, reached into one of his cargo pants pockets, and took out the flashlight-shaped object.

“Something interesting happened this morning when I went past the entrance of the conservatory,” he said. “I heard a few pings and the crystals illuminated. The next thing I know, the door unlocked.”

“It’s a key?”

“Yes.”

Adrenaline hit Talia like a tonic. “We have to get inside.”

“Agreed. But I think our odds of finding a way in without being noticed will be better if we wait until this evening after dinner. Meanwhile, I’d like you to use your talent.”

She nodded, resigned. “You want me to find Keever’s body.”

“No, I don’t think it would give us any more information than we’ve already got.”

“Okay, that’s a relief. What am I looking for?”

“Keever was stuck on this island for what must have been six very long months. Unlike the Venners, he was working closely with the Night Gardener and he was a trained botanist. There’s a chance he made notes or kept a record of what he and Finch were doing in the conservatory.”

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