The Botanist (33 page)

“What are you saying?” Cody asked, wondering what shape Tandy’s conclusions had taken.

Tandy shrugged. “I’m not sure myself. I don’t pretend to understand how it all works. I don’t have a chain of cause and effect to show that her actions led to the Botanist’s exposure, but I think they must have. She had a strange feeling; she acted on it, rather than just brushing it aside and being happy to have it behind her, as most people would have. Now we’re here.”

Cody let his head fall back to rest against the wall, thinking of Alex. She really was the key to this entire thing.

“What was the rotting food in the caverns about?” the Captain asked.

As it turned out, it wasn’t just fruit rotting, but all manner of food, and even some small animal carcasses. The smell of the fruit masked the smell of the animal decomposition.

“We aren’t sure yet,” Tandy said. “Could just be stuff he discarded and didn’t bother to dispose of. It occurs to me that perhaps he did it purposely to mask the scent of bodies if he had them down there for any period of time after he killed them. We’re hoping Jonathin can give us some insight on that count.”

“Let’s talk about Jonathin’s story,” the captain said. “Cody, what did your PI friend find out?”

“Stieger finally got Jonathin’s military records. He joined at age twenty-two and served his obligatory four years. He was honorably discharged and never contacted the army again. Stieger tracked down a woman who’s lived here for forty years. She swears she saw Jonathin on his father’s property right around the time Alastair passed.”

“Define ‘right around’,” Frank said.

“Even the woman isn’t sure of the timeline, but possibly within days. What that tells us is that Jonathin did hear about his father’s illness and Alastair’s pleas that he come home. No one knew he was here and no one heard from him or saw him, courtesy of the Botanist. If Jonathin knew that this Charlie had some hand in his father’s death, that may explain why the killer held him captive.”

“But why not just kill him instead?”

They all turned eyes on Tandy.

“Hard to say,” he answered. “The Botanist kills women—men aren’t his cup of tea. But then there’s this flower thing.”

“Yes.” Cody nodded. “Stieger found out Jonathin’s mother was an amateur horticulturist. Now, she died giving birth to Jonathin, but he was just like her. If he knew his mother was a botanist, perhaps he taught himself. If the killer was at all acquainted with Jonathin, he might have known of Jonathin’s abilities. He kept the man captive and promised not to hurt his daughter as long as Landes kept making the flowers grow. Meanwhile, he was forced to watch the torture of many of the victims.”

The captain shut his eyes and shook his head. “Poor man.”

“I don’t think Landes will ever be the same again,” Tandy said quietly. “I don’t think he’ll ever have his sanity—at least, not the way we all do.”

“Do you think he’ll be able to tell us anything today?” the captain asked, nodding toward Landes who sat in the interrogation room, expressionless and staring straight ahead.

“I guess we’re about to find out,” Tandy said.

The door opened and the room filled with those who would watch the interview: all those who’d played key roles in the investigation. Of course Frank, Court, and the captain would remain along with Rose, Stieger, several of Landes’ doctors, and Alex’s father. Alex probably would have been present except that she was still in the hospital.

The captain nodded at Cody and Cody entered the interrogation room.

Chapter 51

Two weeks’ care had definitely made an impact. Landes was still painfully lean, but no longer emaciated. The wild look had gone from his eyes, replaced by resigned melancholy. Though he often forgot what Cody’s question was before managing an answer, he was able to sit calmly and have a direct conversation. Cody had much the same impression of Landes that he’d had in the cave; despite the horrors the man had seen, he spoke firmly and eloquently, as though he’d managed to keep most of his sanity. It was present but fluid; a few key parts had been chipped away. He would speak of something with quiet authority, then simply trail off, as though he had a hard time keeping himself in the moment. It was an unsettling combination.

At first, Cody tried to keep Landes focused, but it soon became clear that letting him ramble produced more information than making him focus on specific questions.

“So you came home
before
your father had passed?” Cody asked.

Landes nodded, studying his own fingers, clasped together on the tabletop. “I got married. My wife was . . . unstable. She left when Mercy was still just a baby. I brought Mercy back here. I wanted to reconcile with my father. I wanted him to meet his granddaughter.”

Cody gathered that Mercy was the name Alex had been given as a baby.

“And did you?” Cody kept his voice soft and steady.

“Yes. I knew there’d be talk when the townsfolk found out I was back. I wanted a day alone with my father first.”

Cody nodded. “So you were alone with your father for a day or so? No one else knew you were in town?”

Landes looked up. He seemed surprised to see Cody sitting in front of him. The surprise quickly faded into far away resignation, though. “No,” he said. “Charlie was there.”

“Did Charlie have a last name?”

Landes’ eyes wandered around the room. They fixated on the small, battery-operated clock up near the ceiling on one wall.

“Jonathin?”

Landes looked at him.

“What was his last name?”

“Whose last name?”

“Charlie’s.”

Landes frowned. “Who’s Charlie?”

Cody sighed. Landes had already lost the thread of that memory.

Cody looked back down at his notepad, trying to gather his thoughts for his next approach. Over the last two weeks, Stieger had dug up a few others who remembered Landes. They vaguely remembered a man who’d worked for Alastair before his death. None of them had known his name. They said he kept to himself but that Alastair was fiercely protective of him. They’d all said that something “just wasn’t right” about him. All three people Cody talked to had used that exact phrase. Did they think he was mentally handicapped? No. Was it something specific he said or did? No, just a feeling they got from him, like rotting leaves or a cold, dead room. The only other thing they could say for sure was that he was a transient. No one knew who he was, where he’d come from, or where he’d gone after Alastair’s death.

“What happened next, Jonathin? You spent some time with your father and Charlie. Then what?”

“Charlie was crazy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I found bones in the barn.”

Cody scarcely breathed. “Where did the bones come from, Jonathin?”

“I don’t know.” Landes gave a dismissive wave. “Mostly animals, I think, though some of them looked human.”

“Did your father know about them?”

Landes gave him a tight, sad smile. “My father was a sick old man. He loved Charlie because Charlie took care of him and ran the farm. He had no idea what Charlie did in the barn at night.”

“Did you tell him?”

“I tried. I confronted Charlie and tried to tell my father how twisted he was. He flew into a rage.”

Landes trailed off, lost in memory.

“Then what happened?” Cody whispered.

Landes’ eyes were suddenly misty. He swallowed. “He killed my father.”

Cody’s head snapped up.

“He . . . Jonathin, are you sure?”

“I watched him do it.”

Cody looked toward the mirror, unsure how to respond. This had always been a possibility, but several people had said Charlie was out of town when Alastair passed. He thought back to the report he’d read and what Stieger told him. A report had been filed because Alastair died alone and no one was sure how. Obviously the “alone” part was untrue. Cody wondered if the report had been doctored. Perhaps—Cody sighed—perhaps a lot of things. He doubted there was any way to corroborate Landes’ story. Even if they could dig up Alastair’s body, it would be too decomposed to tell them anything.

“How did he do it, Jonathin?”

“With a pillow. By the time I got there, it was too late. He took me and Mercy hostage, drove us into the desert, forced us into the caves.”

“How did he know about the caves? Did he . . . build them?”

“I don’t know,” Landes said. A fly was buzzing softly up near the window, and Landes seemed to be looking for it.

“Why did he take you into the caves, Jonathin?”

“He wanted me to grow flowers for him.”

“Why did he need flowers?”

Landes shrugged. “He thought they were pretty.”

“But why did he think you knew how to grow them?”

“Because I did.”

Cody smiled, telling himself to be patient. “But you’re a jewelry designer. How do you know about flowers?”

Landes smiled. “My mother. She had a green thumb. She knew how to make flowers grow, even in the desert. I found her botany journals and taught myself. Charlie saw me working with some in my father’s house. He was mesmerized.” Landes frowned. His face contorted and he looked up at Cody, as though seeking answers in Cody’s face.

Cody shrugged self-consciously and looked down at his notepad. He didn’t know how to meet Landes’ gaze.

“What happened next, Jonathin?”

Landes’ face became very still. All the emotion drained away from it. Cody thought he would have to repeat the question, and nearly did, but then Landes opened his mouth.

“He took Mercy, screaming, out of my arms. He said if I didn’t grow my flowers, to put over
his
flowers, he’d kill her.”

Cody cleared his throat. “Your flowers over
his
flowers? What were his flowers, Jonathin?”

“The women. He called them his flowers, works of his own genius.”

“Works of art.”

“Yes.”

Landes lapsed into silence, and Cody took a few seconds to gather his next question.

“Jonathin, the room I found you in; it had . . . restraints and . . . certain tools—”

“The torture room.” Landes was remarking on a simple fact.

“Yes,” Cody whispered, fighting to keep his voice from quavering. “Is that where he always kept you? Or were there other rooms you saw?”

“I was always there. Always. Looking out over the desert. That was where he chained me the first day. It’s where you found me. Only there. Sometimes I could see people down below, cars on the highway, hikers in the distance.”

“And did you ever call out to any of them?”

Landes slowly shook his head. “He would have killed Mercy.”

“But Jonathin.” Cody leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Did he ever let you see her? After taking her from you, did he ever bring her back?”

Again, the slow head shake. Landes’ hands were in his lap now, and he hunched his shoulders, as though a cold wind was at his back.

“But how did you know he would keep his word? That she was alive at all?”

“He told me she was. He would bring messages. ‘Mercy says good morning.’ ‘Mercy is drawing pictures today.’ ‘Mercy is being bad. Work, or I’ll punish her.’”

Cody dropped his eyes and expelled his breath.

“Detective.”

Cody looked up at Landes.

“Do you have children?”

Cody dropped his eyes. “No.”

“The only thing a man can do is believe that his child still lives. As long as there was any hope of that, I did whatever he asked. Besides, he had other ways of keeping me in line.”

Cody swallowed, sure he didn’t want to hear this. He struggled to keep his face passive. “And what were those?”

Jonathin looked away from Cody. “Like you said detective: restraints, tools.” He was suddenly fidgety and twitching. “He brought them there. All of them. He made me watch.” His voice didn’t quite break, but with the last word it dropped to a whisper. “He made me . . . listen . . .” It did break then, and tears coursed down his cheeks. He sniffed and seemed to regain himself. “He said if I didn’t obey, he’d do the same things to my daughter.” He looked back up at Cody. “How could I not spare her that?”

Cody’s knee bounced up and down under the table. Because showing too much emotion in his face where Landes would see it was out of the question, it was his only outlet. He sensed that he was pushing Landes too far. The man was nearing his breaking point. Still, Cody had to try. He had to get as much information as he could while Landes was here. Unfortunately, the only place the story had left to go was down, into the killer’s depravity.

“And what did he do to them, Jonathin?”

Landes looked up at Cody. His eyes held terror. His head jerked from side to side. At first, he was just shaking his head, but it got more and more violent. Soon his entire body was convulsing. His hands came up and he hit himself in the head, emitting the strangest sound Cody had ever heard. It was both a low guttural growl and a soft keening moan.

Cody jumped to his feet, but the door to the interrogation room banged open and Landes’ doctors were at his side before Cody could get there.

It took them ten minutes to calm him down. The psychiatrist produced what looked like a miniature Christmas present from his pocket. It was a red box with a white ribbon painted on, but was only the size of a golf ball. Cody thought it might be a paperweight.

“Find your focus, Jonathin, remember?” The psychiatrist had to yell at first to get Landes’ attention. “What do you see?”

It worked fairly well. When he saw the small box, Landes’ movements calmed, slowed, then stopped all together. The keening sound stopped. When he started describing the box, he seemed much more himself. After several minutes of calm description, Landes put his head in his hands and began to cry softly.

“I was always there,” he moaned, then raised eyes that were nearly identical to Alex’s to meet Cody’s gaze. “Detective, I will always be there.”

Cody hadn’t realized he was backing up until he reached the wall. It was cool and solid and Cody felt more grounded leaning against it. As Landes’ body shuddered with sobs, the psychiatrist put his hand on his arm and looked up at Cody.

“I think we’re done here.”