“Come with me and make an old man’s day, Isabeau,” Alberto encouraged. “Let me show you Philip’s garden. He’s not a man you want to spend time with, but he does love beautiful things. His taste is impeccable.”

She had to agree that the house and artwork and even his furniture all bore the stamp of someone who loved beautiful things. They passed the case filled with instruments of torture and she shivered, afraid those things had been used numerous times on real people.

Alberto reached out and patted her hand. Again her cat leapt and hissed and her skin burned from that casual touch. She was close to the emerging. Too close. And that was a frightening thought. She suddenly wanted Conner to hold her close. They were firmly entrenched in a house of deceit with ruthless killers pretending to be civil. The crowd seemed friendly enough, and very curious, but she couldn’t trust any of them either.

She pulled her hand away gently, trying not to upset him. Alberto Cortez had been the friendliest face she’d seen. “Have you always lived here?” she asked, trying to make small talk.

“My family is one of the oldest in Colombia. Our holdings have expanded over time. My son was the first to have interest in Panama. I didn’t agree with his decisions, but he was strong-willed and his daughter is very much like him.” He looked up at his attendant. “Isn’t that right, Harry?”

“That’s right, Mr. Cortez,” Harry agreed, moving easily through the crowd. His voice was good-natured and his tone affectionate.

“How many times have I told you to call me Alberto?” the old man demanded.

“Probably a good million, Mr. Cortez,” Harry admitted.

Isabeau laughed. She liked the old man better for his easy camaraderie with his bodyguard.

Alberto drew his brows together. “And you, young Isabeau? Am I going to have the same problem with you? He makes me feel old.”

“He’s being respectful.”

“He can respect Imelda. She seems to need it. I’d rather just be plain Alberto, growing my favorite plants in my garden.”

“You’re a gardener?”

“I love working with my hands. My son and granddaughter don’t understand my need of the land and getting my fingers in the dirt.”

“I love plants,” Isabeau said. “Someday I’m going to have my own garden as well. Right now, I’ve been cataloguing medicinal plants found in the rain forest. I’ve done so both here and in Borneo. I’d like to go to Costa Rica next. The plants are amazing with the various uses. People have no idea how valuable they are for medicines, and we’re losing the rain forests far too fast. We’re going to lose those resources if we don’t get researchers moving on . . .” She broke off with a small laugh. “I’m sorry. It’s a passion of mine.”