When You See Me by Lisa Gardner

Author:Lisa Gardner [Lisa Gardner]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2020-01-28T00:00:00+00:00

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“THE TRICK IS COCO MATS,” Walt explains proudly. “No soil, no pesticides. Just plenty of love and water. I got four different crops, from micro mustard plants to pea shoots. I harvest every ten to fifteen days. Just me. Load it up, head to Atlanta. Gotta real following among the swanky chefs at high-end restaurants. Microgreens are very healthy, you know. High in vitamins, some even fight cancer.”

I honestly have no idea what to say. Standing beside me, I can tell Keith is equally stunned. We are staring at row after row of metal shelving units. Each holds eight shallow trays of densely packed, tiny green shoots, like a parade of Chia Pets escaped from the 1980s.

I walk closer, inspecting the setup. There are tubes running from each tray.

“Hydroponics,” Walt explains. “Makes for faster growth.”

I get it, the watering system. While hanging from the ceiling above are huge banks of lights, emitting a whitish glow.

“LED lighting,” Walt volunteers again, clearly proud. “Provides the best balance of light and heat. I got ’em digitally programmed. Different growth stages have different needs. You don’t gotta be too fancy about it, but I take care of my own. Best damn microgreens in Georgia,” he boasts again.

“How long have you been doing this?” Keith asks. Like me, he has started wandering the aisles.

“Three years.”

“How did you learn all this?” I ask, waving my hand around. Because digital lights, the automated watering system . . . With his unkempt hair, tattered jeans, and stained flannel, Walt doesn’t exactly look like an advertisement for sophistication, and yet this is clearly a high-tech operation.

He shrugs. “Here and there. I’ve always been good with my hands. Running a farm, fixin’ buildings, maintainin’ equipment, takes more know-how than people think.”

“Clearly.”

“Plus,” he adds matter-of-factly, “I grew dope for years. This is easier. More profitable and I don’t gotta worry about being arrested.”

“Of course.”

“I wasn’t always a good person,” Walt says abruptly. He’s standing near the door. For the first time, I realize I don’t know where the shotgun is anymore. Still leaning against the outside of the barn? Or tucked somewhere behind him? For that matter, is there a second egress to this place? Or if he wanted to, could Walt take three steps back, jerk closed the heavy sliding door, and lock us in with his precious microgreens?

I don’t know why he’d want to do such a thing. And yet, the hair is standing up on the back of my neck. Farther down the aisle, Keith turns and I can tell he feels it, too. A certain wrongness. A change in the air that doesn’t bode well.

Maybe a guy like Walt doesn’t need a reason. Maybe Keith and I have allowed ourselves to be lulled by trays of tiny green shoots while forgetting the obvious—crazy is crazy, and Walt Davies has spent decades earning a reputation as the town lunatic.

“I drank,” Walt whispers now.

Has he moved? I shift slightly, trying to calculate my distance to the open door.

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