The Greening: a novel of romantic suspense...with a touch of magic (The Green Man Series Book 1)

by Sharon Brubaker

  “This is amazing!” Bill commented.

  Owen excitedly said, “I know! I know!”

  “Excuse me,” Sylvia said, “Can someone let me know what’s going on?”

  “The micro-organism,” Owen said, “it’s like nothing we’ve ever seen before.”

  Bill was staring into the microscope, “Vicious little bugger,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Sylvia asked.

  “It’s eating everything in sight. Kind of like the ‘blob’ in those old horror films, only this blob has vicious teeth.”

  “It reminds me of the pfisteria organism,” Owen said, “but, that’s impossible,” he said out loud.

  “Why?” Sylvia asked. “Why is it impossible?”

  “Pfisteria is a water based organism,” Owen explained. “It doesn’t exist on land.”

  “But, why can’t it have a land counterpart?” Sylvia asked. “You know, an evil twin.”

  Bill and Owen looked at each other and Bill raised his eyebrows to Owen.

  “Smart girl,” Bill said. “Possible…possible,” he muttered.

  Owen took out a pad of paper and started to make some notes. His pen flew across the paper. They worked long into the afternoon and Sylvia’s stomach was growling loudly.

  “Do you guys want to go and get something to eat?” she asked, trying not to sound plaintive.

  “Yeah,” Bill said, “A short break would be good. Let’s go to the pub down the street and we can brainstorm about this.”

  Sylvia refrained from rolling her eyes. They were men on a mission. Not that she minded terribly, but they were definitely two peas in a pod. Bill carefully placed signs, “Experiment in progress, Do Not Touch!” and made sure he locked the door behind him.’ They walked out into the late afternoon sunshine. The warmth felt wonderful after the highly air-conditioned lab. Sylvia rubbed her arms to warm up. They walked to the pub a couple of blocks away and settled into a corner booth. After a pitcher of beer came, Owen took out his notepad and started taking additional notes.

  Owen commented on the chemicals in the soil. “Looks like we found the dump site,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Bill said. “Another clean up project for Thurmont. You would think they would get a grip, but they’re big business and all they care about is money, money, money.”

  “Well, also, the current director is partially at fault, too,” Sylvia commented.

  “Headley?” Bill asked and Sylvia nodded.

  “He’s an ass,” Bill stated emphatically. “If they found someone who actually cared about the environment, the superfund clean-ups might end and community support would build. The company with Headley running it is poison to the environment.”

  Sylvia looked at him sharply. “Are you part of a group that protests Thurmont?”

  “Nah,” he said, “I’m active in the conservancy organizations in the area. The hothead protesters don’t seem to get anywhere,” he said, “Unfortunately, they just get arrested.”

  “Have you heard any rumblings about Thurmont lately?” Owen asked.

  “There are always rumblings,” he said quiet and with meaning.

  Both Owen and Sylvia looked at him sharply. Both wondered about the vandalism at the Thurmont booth at Bay Days. Owen shook his head and Sylvia nodded.

  Bill caught the last part of the silent conversation and said, “What’s going on? Do you two have a secret code?”

  Owen laughed. “Okay, I’ll come clean,” he said. “Someone vandalized the Thurmont booth at Bay Days.”

  “How?” Bill asked, openly shocked and surprised.

  “They spray painted ‘Thurmont kills’, ‘Thurmont sucks’ and other tomes,” Sylvia quoted the graffiti.

  “I haven’t heard anything lately, but I’m not surprised that it happened.” Bill said, “I’ll put out a couple of feelers, if it would help.”

  “Thanks,” Sylvia said, “I would appreciate it.”

  They finished their beer and nachos. Owen asked if it would be okay to return the next day. Bill agreed easily and said he might surf the Internet for additional research.

  Owen took Sylvia’s hand and squeezed it. He was happy to be getting somewhere with the samples. He wished out loud to get into his files at Thurmont.

  “Well,” Sylvia said, “if you can give me your user name and password, I could email them to you. I don’t know why we didn’t think of it before.”

  “Great idea!” Owen said and he leaned over to kiss her.

  “I hope it helps,” she said fervently.

  They found their car and headed for home. Sylvia was thinking about the micro-organism they had seen. She had a lot of questions for Owen.

  “By the way,” she asked, “How are the chemical fertilizers put together at Thurmont anyway?”

  “Actually, it’s quite a unique process,” Owen told her. “It’s a mixture of organic and inorganic materials, that produce quite a fine grade of fertilizer for farms and gardens.”

  “Wasn’t the pfisteria organism related to an organism in fecal matter?” Sylvia asked.

  “Something like that,” Owen said, “from the chicken droppings and the runoff into the rivers is one of the theories.”

  “So-o-o,” Sylvia said, “I know I’m not a scientist or anything, but if that could cause the pfisteria problem, couldn’t the wrong mix of organic material and chemicals create a new, and potentially dangerous micro-organism?”

  “Possibly,” Owen mused. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” He looked as though he was far, far away in thought. He turned to grin at her. “Have you ever thought about going into science?” he asked her.

  Sylvia looked at him, “No, not really,” she said. “I never thought I had an affinity for it.”

  “Well, you have a great way of putting things together,” he told her. “You’re thinking out of the box.”

  “Thanks,” Sylvia said.

  “You know, I need to call Mr. Carter,” Sylvia said suddenly. “I totally lost track of the day.”

  She called as soon as she got into the house. Mr. Carter was definitely more cheerful. He asked how work went and she explained what happened the day before.

  “What a bastard!” Mr. Carter said shocked. “I never thought his sexual harassment would lead to assault.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked her.

  “I will be,” Sylvia sighed.

  “By the way,” Sylvia told him, “We parked your car here at my house. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Sure,” he said, “Thanks for not leaving it at the park.”

  He went on to tell her that he would likely be able to go home tomorrow. They discussed the particulars of getting his car and him home. Sylvia told him she would be returning to work the next day and to call her there. She hung up from Mr. Carter and went to ask Owen about the next day. She also checked to see if Owen was available to help her drive Mr. Carter back to the Philadelphia area.

  In the middle of her question she remembered he was going to work on the research at State. She stopped mid-sentence and said, “forget it.”

  “Why?” Owen asked.

  “Your research,” she said. “Maybe I can ask Carol.”

  She dialed Carol’s home phone number. Carol answered.

  “What happened to you today?” she asked cheerfully. “Did you and Owen have a hot night?” she teased.

  “I-I guess you haven’t heard,” Sylvia said.

  “Heard what?” Carol asked.

  “About Headley,” she paused, “and me.”

  “What?” Carol said, “Are you going to tell me you’re engaged or something?”

  Sylvia was quiet for a minute.

  “Syl?” Carol asked. “What’s up?”

  “Headley assaulted me last night, Carol,” she told her quietly.

  “Oh my God!” she said, “I’m sorry I was teasing you Syl,” she told her.

  “What did they do with him?” she asked.

  “I guess he’s still in jail,” she said. �
��They also picked him up for some drug and drug paraphernalia charges.”

  “Wow!” Carol said. “I’m amazed the rumor mill hasn’t been frothing at the mouth!”

  “Me too,” Sylvia said. “I think someone’s trying to cover it up.”

  “I don’t think they want any more bad press for the company,” Carol said.

  “You’re probably right,” Sylvia said. “I’m thinking a little darkly these days.”

  “Who could blame you?” Carol replied grimly. “Are you okay?” Carol asked her.

  “I will be,” Sylvia said.

  “Well,” Carol said, “A lot of women here will want to give you an award.”

  “Why?” Sylvia asked.

  “For nailing Headley and putting a stop to his asshole behavior!” she told her.

  “I don’t think I could ever do that,” Sylvia said, her humor returning. “I don’t think he’ll ever stop being an asshole,” Sylvia laughed ruefully.

  “True,” Carol said, laughing with her, “but, he’s stopped for a little while, at least. He’ll be fresh meat for those prison guys. Now he’ll know what it feels like.”

  Sylvia didn’t want to think about it. Sylvia asked her about the transport of Mr. Carter and Carol agreed easily.

  “Another day away from Keely is always wonderful,” she said.

  They said good night and she went out to Owen in the study. He was reading a rather complex article on micro-organisms.

  “Find anything?” Sylvia asked.

  “Nothing that matches what we saw,” he said. “I would like to isolate one of the micro-organisms tomorrow,” he told her, “and see how it reacts with fresh soil.”

  He was in his element and she let him be, and browsed among the bookshelves for something to read. A wave of tiredness came over her. She took the book and lay on the couch in the living room. It was very late when she woke up. She thought she heard a noise and realized a light was still pouring from the study. She stood up to turn on a light and ran smack into the Green Man.

  “Oh!” she said, “I’m sorry!”

  He put his arm around her to steady her before she sat back down on the couch.

  “Thanks for saving me last night,” she said.

  “All in a day’s work,” he said lightly, his moustache of leaves curling with his smile.

  “You’re something like a super-hero, aren’t you?” she said.

  He just looked at her steadily and with his usual sense of humor said seriously, “No cape.”

  Sylvia left out a loud “Ha!” in laughter and then clapped her hand over her mouth, concerned Owen might hear her and come out to investigate. She stifled another giggle at the thought of it.

  The Green Man reached out and took her hand. She could feel his energy pulsing through her, healing her internal pain.

  “Sylvia,” the Green Man said as he took one of his fingers and stroked her cheek gently. “You’re going to be just fine,” he said.

  Sylvia smiled, relieved, but not understanding.

  “Syl?” Owen asked coming out of the study, “Are you awake?”

  The Green Man vanished in an instant.

  “Who are you talking to?” Owen asked.

  “No one,” Sylvia lied.

  “Hmm,” Owen said, “I must be really tired. I could have sworn I heard voices. Let’s go up to bed.”

  He pulled her up off the couch and they went upstairs. It was a quiet night and Sylvia lay in bed listening to the night sounds. Most of the boaters had returned to their homes and daily jobs. There was a quiet lap, lap, lap of the water at the shoreline and the sound of a crazy mockingbird wanting to mate deep in the night. A rustle of leaves filled the air with the gentle night breeze that pushed the curtains in a dance at her windows. Owen was already asleep. She sighed deeply. She curled up next to Owen and fell asleep too.

  Sylvia was busy at work the next day, fielding questions about Headley to people that stopped by. Executives from the sister company came in, all in their dark blue suits, to apologize to Sylvia. They said they would take care of things, but gave no details. Carol said that they wanted to make sure she didn’t sue for sexual harassment as well as assault. It was late morning when she was able to login as Owen, and email his files to him at home. Mr. Carter called to say he was ready to roll. Sylvia and Carol got their things together and went to pick him up.

  Mr. Carter was still a little pasty looking, but his sense of humor was back. He made several jokes about hating to leave the nurses at the hospital, but didn’t mind being taken away by two beautiful young women. They drove back to Sylvia’s house to get his car. Carol drove her car and Sylvia drove Mr. Carter in his car to his home outside of Philadelphia. He lived in a quiet, tree filled neighborhood in a Cape Cod house with a stone porch. His neighbor had been watching the house and gathering the mail, but the grass looked overgrown. Sylvia asked him if he wanted her to cut it.

  “No,” Mr. Carter said, “but thanks for the offer. I have a young man in the neighborhood that can take care of it.”

  He apologized in advance for the state of his house. “I’m an old bachelor, you know,” he told Carol and Sylvia.

  He had piles of books and magazines about trains lying around. It was cluttered, but not dirty.

  “Will you be okay here on your own?” Sylvia asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said, “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done.”

  “Make sure you check in with your family doctor,” Carol advised.

  “Yes, Mom,” he joked to Carol.

  “Can we go and get you some groceries?” Sylvia asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” Mr. Carter said again. “Shoo! Get back to work or I’ll tell your boss,” he quipped.

  “Okay,” Sylvia conceded.

  She gave Mr. Carter a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek. She could have sworn that his eyes filled up. She was emotional, too, after everything that had happened in the past week.

  He gave Carol a quick hug too, and they waved goodbye. Unfortunately they hit prime rush hour traffic and sat on the interstate for over an hour. Between an accident that had happened a few miles south of them and the daily rush hour, it was well after six o’clock when they were near Thurmont. Sylvia’s cell phone rang. It was Owen.

  “Where have you been?” he asked. “I was starting to get worried.”

  Sylvia explained about the accident and the traffic delays.

  “Since you’re headed back to Thurmont to get your car, would you do me a favor?” Owen asked.

  “Of course,” Sylvia said.

  “Would you go down to the lab to get my green notebook? I have some notes in it that I need access to.” he asked her.

  “How will I get in?” Sylvia asked. “What do I do if your office is locked?”

  “Ed’s a decent guy,” Owen told her. “I’m sure he’ll unlock the door if you ask.”

  “Okay,” she said, “I’ll find him and meet you at home.”

  “No, wait,” he said, “Bill and I are still at the lab. Can you meet us at the pub and we can all have dinner?”

  “Sounds great,” Sylvia said and hung up.

  Carol had a hair appointment and was running late due to the traffic so she dropped Sylvia off at the entrance to Thurmont and waved goodbye. Sylvia went in to look for Ed. It was a little creepy to come into the company after hours. The lights were still bright, but it was too quiet for Sylvia. Her footsteps echoed as she walked down the hallways. She stopped briefly by her office and checked messages and then went to look for Ed. She wasn’t quite sure where his office was located and wandered through the halls looking for him. She found him vacuuming.

  “Hi Ed,” she said loudly.

  Ed jumped and turned off the vacuum.

  “Sorry,” Sylvia said, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “No problem,” Ed replied, “What can I do for you little lady?” he asked with his usual grin.

  “I was wondering if you could let me into Owen
’s office, please?” she asked. “He needs a notebook that he left in there.”

  “Well, seeing that it is you,” Ed told her, “I’ll do it.”

  She followed him to Owen’s office and noticed that his arm was still red and the bandage loose.

  “Are you still having problems with your arm?” she asked him.

  “Yup,” Ed replied. He stopped. “I can’t seem to remember anything these days.” He tapped his head, “Senior moment. What was it you wanted to get again?”

  “The notebook,” Sylvia said again, “from Owen’s office.”

  “Oh, yeah, right,” Ed said, pausing between each word.

  He took out a large ring of keys and sifted through looking for the right one.

  “Here we go,” he said and he opened the door and turned on the light for Sylvia.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  Sylvia looked around Owen’s office which was extraordinarily neat. She looked on the bookshelf by his desk and there, in a neat row, were several notebooks. She looked until she found a green one and pulled it off the shelf.

  “I think this is it, thanks,” she said turning to Ed.

  The loose bandage had slipped off of his arm and she could see the skin infection that had been plaguing him. His arm looked like Anna’s body. Along his forearm were spidery tracks of red that looked like snail trails. They were oozing and looked sore. Realization struck her and it must have shone in her eyes.

  Ed looked at her and then down at his arm where the bandage had slipped. He let out an expletive.

  “Damn it! I wish you hadn’t seen this,” he said wearily.

  “But…” Sylvia couldn’t get any words out. Finally she said, “You…Anna…”

  “I didn’t kill her,” Ed told her. “I just buried the bitch.”