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“Definitely looks like it,” Flynn said. “Don’t touch any of it.” Shifting the box aside, he leaned under the bench. “There are more plants and flowers down here … that looks like bunches of cut daffodils at the back…” He moved a potted plant to one side, then winced and withdrew his hand, cursing quietly.
“What was that?” Lily asked.
“A thorn, I guess,” he said, moving his hand to his mouth. “That bloody hurts.”
As he stood, Lily pulled on his arm to move him out of the way. Her heart pounded as she eyed the familiar plant with its camouflaged thorns. She sucked in a breath, forcing her panic down. “That’s one of those sleeping beauty things.”
“No way,” Flynn said, disbelief thick in his words. “It can’t be.”
“It is,” she said, taking his hand to inspect the damage. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just a scratch.”
“You’re bleeding.” She rooted in her jacket pocket for a tissue. “Flynn, that’s bad.”
His brow furrowed as he stared at the plant beside his feet.
“Here,” she said, pressing a tissue against the base of his thumb.
“Are you sure it’s the same plant?”
“Fairly sure.” Lily’s eyes darted from his palm to the plant. Carefully, she wedged the toe of her shoe against the pot and pushed the plant under the bench and safely out of the way. “Do you feel okay?”
“I feel fine. I don’t think it went deep.”
“It’s bleeding quite a lot.” She pressed a second tissue onto the wound. “Are you sure you don’t feel ill, or dizzy or anything?”
“I feel completely normal.” Flynn’s gaze remained fixed on the plant. “I guess Gordon was right about Arthur.”
“Yeah,” Lily said, though she was currently more concerned about Flynn than anything else.
“He seems like such a nice guy,” Flynn said, his brow wrinkling further. “I’ll need to call this in.”
“I was sure Gordon was wrong about Arthur.” Her stomach knotted, and she realised that she’d wanted him to be wrong about Arthur. Everyone who knew him had insisted he’d never hurt a fly, and she really wanted that to be true.
“This is enough evidence for us to arrest him,” Flynn said, but his words came out slowly, as though it was an effort to string the sentence together.
He swayed and clutched at the edge of the counter to steady himself.
Lily put a hand on his back. “Flynn?”
“I don’t feel… I’m… My head is…” He squeezed his eyes closed, then opened them and gave a jerky shake of his head as though trying to clear his thoughts.
“You need to sit down,” Lily said, trying to keep the panic from her voice.
“I’m okay,” he said slowly.
“Yeah,” Lily said, forcing reassurance to her voice. “Of course you are, but you should sit down in case you get dizzy. Just for a minute, then you can stand up again and we’ll get out of here.”
“No, I think I’ll be okay.” His knees buckled as though they were going to give out, and he slumped against the counter to catch himself. Panic glimmered in his eyes as he looked helplessly at Lily.
“Sit down,” she snapped. “I can’t catch you if you fall, and I’m fairly sure you’re about to collapse. Sit down. Right now.”
“Bossy,” he murmured as he lowered himself to the ground.
Crouching close to him in the cramped space, Lily took his hand to inspect the wound more closely. “If it didn’t cut you as badly as Gordon, maybe the effects won’t be so bad.” Her insides tightened when she peeled the tissues away. While it was a smooth cut, it was also pretty deep.
“You need…” Flynn started, then seemed to lose his train of thought. “You need to…”