Chapter 7 – …And Your Plants, Too!

Amélie left a message detailing her uneventful, boring ride home despite arriving well into the evening.

"It's not like they even sent two gunships and a police escort!" she exclaimed, pleasantly surprised by not being attacked again. "Just another one of those IFVs."

After a restless night dreading what her husband would be facing, she decided to head over to the greenhouse early. Amélie was finally able to resume using the area that had been scorched by some kind of explosive after Overwatch combed the entire greenhouse for evidence. There was not a single leaf out of place afterward.

Maybe my complaints actually got through to them after all these years.

Unlocking the back entrance, she saw that Chloé and Nolan were going to be by later in the day, but otherwise it would just be customers. With an hour to tidy before opening, she frowned upon noticing dirt had been tracked down several aisles. Moving forward, her eyes darted to the larger front doors used by the public—they'd been smashed open, then sealed shut with plastic. As Amélie pulled her phone to both document this vandalism and file a police report, she became aware of a faint hissing.

I didn't set the sprinklers to run at this hour, did I?

Something made her nose wrinkle. She blundered over to a small "office" (even Amélie didn't like spending all day in a humid greenhouse) next to the checkout counter. She shook her long hair about as she tried to clear bleary eyes.

I'm not twenty anymore, I get that. But I went to bed before midnight!

The door handle seemed to be miles ahead and her arms weighed down by lead. She caught herself stumbling and steadied on the first thing she could grab. The handle turned, causing its door to swing inward. The last thing Amélie saw was an ugly, obvious camera.

But he promised…

At opening time, a line of confused customers tapped on their phones, making double-sure they weren't here before business hours.

"Is it closed today?"

"Does anyone know if Amélie is unwell?"

"Why aren't the fans running?"

An enterprising young man finally thought to check the back.

"I don't know what's in there, but it made me all woozy! I wouldn't go in if I were you!"

"Overwatch agents investigating gas attack at Paris greenhouse" blared a scrolling headline.

"I hope I can get a refund" complained one distraught buyer. "Look!"

He shook dead, brown flowers that clearly had a label with his name on them before a news crew. The disappointed paramour was hardly the only one—every plant inside the greenhouse had turned brown, brittle, and very dead.

"Investigators found a set of crudely-rigged cameras inside the facility, but were unable to issue comment on who might have put them there" continued the reporter. "Thankfully, the gas found was determined to be a simple stun agent, not lethal to humans but indisputably damaging to plant life. All people exposed were discharged from nearby hospitals with clean bills of health."

The image shifted to a picture of Amélie Lacroix.

"The owner, a woman around thirty years old named Amélie Lacroix, has also been reported missing. Anyone with information on her whereabouts should contact the Police Prefecture."