Hidden Creed

by Alex Kava

  Grace’s nose was still working. Only now, she had moved toward the opposite side of the clearing. She didn’t need a name. She was already tracking. But she still looked up at him and waited for the command.

  “Grace.” He pointed to the last set of footprints beside her. “Grace, this is Predator.”

  She watched him and poked her nose in the air. Her front feet shuffled back and forth, impatient and ready.

  “Grace, find Predator.”

  He could hear the sheriff breathing hard behind him. Creed slowed his pace to keep just a few steps in front of her while Grace bounded so far ahead, he lost sight of her. He let Grace go off-leash, and now he was second-guessing that decision. What if the killer was still lurking around here? If Grace found him...

  Just as he felt a chill at the back of his neck, he caught a glimpse of Grace’s tail. She realized she’d lost him and was backtracking to get him. She darted through the trees. When she saw him, she waited but threw her head back like she was impatiently pointing out the direction.

  “This doesn’t feel like an easier path,” Norwich called to him. Her hands were on her hips and her face was red, again.

  He stopped and put up a hand to tell Grace to stay.

  “Should we stop for a water break?” he asked the sheriff.

  It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes that they’d started on the trail. And the farther they went, the more it looked like a real trail. Creed could see broken branches and shrubs. The grass was worn down. Leaves and pine needles had been swept away. In places there were drag marks made by something heavy and over a foot wide. If he had to guess he’d say a bag...a body bag.

  “This is the way he came,” he told Norwich.

  “Well, I hope this is leading us to a forest service road.”

  Creed didn’t answer. He suspected the sheriff wouldn’t be excited to see what waited for them on the other side of the trees. This parcel of the forest hadn’t been developed by the state park. It created a wild barrier that kept tourists and hikers from wandering onto private property like Hannah’s and his. There were no roads that he knew about. At least none that showed up on maps.

  Grace took off again, but this time more slowly. Before they reached the edge of the tree line, he could smell and hear the water. They walked out of the woods and into the glaring sunlight. The sandy shore extended for about thirty feet. Grace pranced to the riverbank, turned and looked Creed in the eyes.

  She was standing beside skid marks in the sand. Fresh skid marks from a flat-bottomed boat that had banked here many times and recently.

  “Coldwater Creek,” Creed said.

  He glanced at Norwich, and he knew immediately she wasn’t pleased.

  Chapter 19

  Brodie was torn whether to go with Ryder and Grace or stay. Ryder was worried about her. He wouldn’t dare say that, but she recognized the look in his eyes. He wasn’t a very good pretender. Even as kids he couldn’t lie very well. Brodie could. She could keep secrets, too. And after sixteen years of tamping down her feelings, she had learned how to keep her emotions hidden, too.

  Besides, she liked watching the medical examiner work. She was organized, efficient and completely unaffected by the grossest stuff. That last part was what clicked with Brodie the most, because she found herself being totally fascinated by the gross stuff.

  She read constantly. Just since she’d come to live with Hannah and Ryder, she’d worked her way through half of their personal libraries. Jason brought books to her, too. Usually well-worn paperbacks with dog-eared pages. She loved every single one. Lately, she’d been reading some of Hannah’s favorite romance authors, but mysteries and thrillers were her favorites.

  In Brodie’s mind, mysteries and thrillers were the kind of stuff Ryder and Jason did all the time. Up until now, they hadn’t allowed her to tag along. Fact was, she could see Ryder trying to figure out how to send her home. How to protect her. When he first found out she was wandering into the forest alone, he almost yelled at her. She could see him holding it in.

  All of them had been going out of their way to be polite, to treat her like she was something fragile, like she might at any second break into a thousand pieces. Isaac and Thomas, Hannah’s two little boys, were the only ones who treated Brodie like she was simply a member of the family. Except when they needed a spider killer. Then they treated her a little bit like she was a superhero. That, she didn’t mind.

  Maybe that was why Brodie liked the medical examiner.

  Vickie.

  She told Brodie to call her Vickie.

  Vickie was treating Brodie like she was...normal. Like she was here to help, and she was perfectly capable of doing just that.

  “Your brother started putting surveyor flags where Grace alerted,” the medical examiner said as she pulled out a handful of flags from her backpack. “If you see anything that doesn’t belong in the forest—a soda can, a shoe, a bone—don’t pick it up. Just stick a flag in the ground next to it.”

  She handed some of the flags to Brodie and Maggie.

  “I need to wait for the CSU tech before we move the body,” Vickie told them. “Try to stay away from the footprints over here. Those are probably our best for casting. I’m going to check out some of the spots where Grace already alerted. I could use both of you to help.”

  Vickie started loading items into her backpack, so they could move into the forest. Brodie had caught a glimpse of all those flags Ryder had planted. She was curious and excited to be included. But her eyes darted back to the man’s body. Her knees were still stained with his blood.

  “Do you think the person who killed him knew he was still alive?” Brodie asked.

  When neither woman answered, she looked up to find Vickie and Maggie staring at her.

  “Why do you think he was still alive?” Maggie finally asked.

  “It looks like he was crawling out of the dirt.” Brodie’s eyes skipped from Maggie to Vickie. “Did I get that wrong?”

  “No, we believe he may have been buried alive,” Vickie said. “You have good instincts.”

  Brodie beamed inside and allowed the smallest of smiles.

  “So here’s the thing,” Vickie said, “there are other bodies dumped here. We start with that premise.”

  “And that the killer is disorganized, possibly erratic,” Maggie added. Her stance was ready and alert.

  Brodie noticed Maggie’s eyes scanning the forest. She wondered if the FBI agent was looking for evidence, or did she suspect the killer was still lurking somewhere in the trees.

  “We also need to remember that the forest tends to have a whole bunch of scavengers that can make a crime scene even more of a jigsaw puzzle,” Vickie said.

  “Ryder and Jason said they’ve seen black bears,” Brodie said. “They make me carry bear spray.”

  “Smart,” Vickie nodded. “Bears can be a pain in the ass. They can crack long bones and decapitate a body.”

  “Can you tell whether a bear’s done that or the killer?” Maggie wanted to know.

  “From my experience, bears knock it around. Sometimes they take it with them. They tend to take pieces to a creek or a stream.”

  Now Brodie could feel Maggie watching her. She was pretending not to. She was a little better than Ryder at pretending, but not much. She didn’t want Maggie to worry about protecting her.

  “Coyotes will go uphill,” Vickie continued. “Raccoons like to dine on the spot. But sometimes they’ll drag a snack up into a tree.” Her head pivoted upward and started swiveling as she examined the treetops.

  Almost instinctively, Brodie noticed that she and Maggie also looked up. Within seconds Brodie saw the bird’s nest. Something dangled from the twigs. Bright yellow. It didn’t look quite right.

  “How about that?” she asked, pointing to the nest.

  Vickie came over and stood directly under the branch then said, “I think it might be a thread.”

  “Should we knock it down?” Maggie asked.

/>   “No, no,” Vickie waved her off. “No need to damage someone’s home.”

  Brodie realized the medical examiner was serious even when some of the things she said sounded like a joke. Or sarcasm. Brodie hadn’t quite grasped sarcasm yet.

  Vickie grabbed her backpack and began shifting contents until she found what she wanted. The foot-long rod extended and kept extending until it reached the branch. On the end, it looked like a big set of tweezers, and Vickie could control them from where she stood. In no time, she pinched the yellow strand and gently tugged it free.

  “Definitely a thread from some kind of fabric,” she said as she weaved it into an evidence bag.

  “That’s a pretty nifty contraption,” Maggie told her.

  Vickie started breaking down the magic rod and she grinned.

  “All it takes is falling out of a tree once.” Then she turned to Brodie and said, “You have a good eye for this stuff.”

  Brodie shrugged, trying to look nonchalant when she really wanted to smile and maybe even skip a little. She wanted to be good at something other than surviving.

  Chapter 20

  Blackwater River State Forest

  Jason Seaver used his forearm to club and snap yet another branch out of the path. Every once in a while his prosthetic arm came in handy. Although, he would need to be more careful. The new sensors were working, and he was starting to actually feel the contact of the wood.

  “Almost there,” he called over his shoulder to the sheriff department’s men.

  The CSU tech named Hadley had no problem keeping pace, though he was an older guy. Older by Jason’s standards meant anyone over thirty-five.

  Deputy Danvers was closer to Jason’s age. He guessed maybe twenty-four or twenty-five. And yet, Danvers was the one falling back and holding his side. His dark green uniform shirt had sweat stains that had long ago run into each other so that the whole shirt looked soaked. It didn’t help that his sheriff’s department ball cap sat crooked on his head and kept getting knocked off. Twice Jason looked back to see the dude trailing off the path just to grab the cap off a branch. Hadley didn’t have a problem with his own, and Jason’s K9 CrimeScents’ ball cap stayed planted.

  At least Danvers agreed to take one of Hannah’s kerchiefs, but only after too much hesitation. Jason didn’t like that the guy looked at her like she was some crazy witch doctor. That red kerchief was going to save Danvers’ lily-white ass, along with his arms, neck and face.

  Scout had picked up the scent as soon as they got into the forest. The fluorescent splashes of spray paint simply became affirmation that they were, indeed, on the right path.

  He was so proud of his dog. And thankful that every day he woke up to this bundle of happiness—all lean, sixty-five pounds of him. As soon as he noticed Jason’s eyes open, Scout gave him a slobber kiss then head-butted him. He wanted to get up and get on with the day. The dog loved doing exactly this.

  So of course, Jason stifled a cringe when the first thing Scout found on the site was a discarded fast food bag, bulging enough to mean there was probably leftover food inside.

  They had barely gotten to the scene. Barely gone through all the introductions when Scout poked his head up from a clump of scrub grass. Jason understood this area in the woods was in the opposite direction of where Creed and Grace had posted over a half dozen alerts.

  That Scout found it and found it first, was a sore spot for Jason. It was his fault his dog alerted to food. He’d made the mistake of giving Scout little treats when he first started training him. Creed had warned that scent alert dogs needed an award other than food, and Scout now worked hard for the love of his rope toy. He loved to play as much as he loved to work. The dog could hardly contain himself when he knew Jason had the drool-stained toy inside his pack or pocket.

  But Scout hadn’t made a false alert to food in a long time. He hoped this wasn’t some kind of setback. He almost didn’t want to tell anyone, but they were all there. The medical examiner had just specified she wanted anything and everything that didn’t belong in the forest.

  “This is great,” she told Jason. Immediately, she unfolded an evidence bag then gingerly lifted the fast food’s crumpled bag into it. “We haven’t found signs of anyone else in this area other than the killer,” she explained. “There’s a good chance this was his.”

  “So the killer’s scent might still be on it?” Jason was starting to feel better. “Maybe it’s his scent that Scout is alerting to and not the possibility that there’s a couple bites of a double cheeseburger still inside.”

  “Oh, I hope there are remnants of a burger. Even fries.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. She seemed a bit quirky, and he wasn’t sure if she was making a joke.

  “DNA can be pulled off food items. A half-eaten hamburger would be excellent.”

  She patted Scout. “Good boy!”

  Chapter 21

  Creed pulled a small notebook from his daypack and wrote down the GPS coordinates on two separate pages. He tore out one and handed it to Norwich.

  “I think I can come up with a place to launch a boat if nobody else can. I just need to look at a map.”

  “Yes, thank you. That would be very helpful” But she still gave him an exasperated look as she got on her cell phone.

  Within minutes she was instructing someone about getting a boat and body bags when Creed led Grace into a shady spot. He pulled out her collapsible bowl and filled it with water. Drained a bottle himself. He swept off a fallen log and sat down, suddenly exhausted. Grace had to be, too. They’d been out in the heat since early morning. Jason and Scout would need to take over, because whether Grace agreed or not, the little dog was finished for the day.

  Coldwater Creek was just one of the many streams, tributaries and creeks that flowed through the forest. Blackwater River was the biggest of them, but Coldwater Creek had its own challenges. It was some of the swiftest water, spring-fed and remarkably cool no matter what time of year. The creek also had plenty of debris obstructions depending on the time of year and recent rains. Logjams in the narrow curves could surprise even the seasoned of boaters. And there were a few holes in the shifting sandy bottom that were deep enough to suck a kayak down without warning.

  Creed could feel just a hint of coolness coming off the water. Shadows were lengthening even out here in the open. Longleaf pines and huge hardwoods stood tall on both sides of the creek. The other bank was only about twenty feet away. Gnarly roots poked out of the earth like some river monster crawling out of its den.

  The water was clear but tea-colored, stained from the tannin found in the surrounding trees’ bark. The current ran quick here, and it would push a boat downstream. But coming up, would definitely take a motor. And it would require some navigating because even Coldwater Creek branched off into tributaries that could lead to nowhere.

  So he wasn’t surprised when he heard Norwich’s disappointment.

  “Tomorrow? It’s barely three o’clock.”

  The dead would still be dead tomorrow, but he understood her frustration.

  He could see her shaking her head as she listened and paced in the sand. She looked up at him and shouted, “Thunderstorms rolling in. Lots of wind and lightning.”

  What else was new? This was the Florida Panhandle. It wasn’t unusual for storms to break out any afternoon in June. The sky would suddenly go dark. Rain would pour down, sometimes even as the sun still shined. Twenty miles away it might not even be cloudy.

  But lightning? This part of Florida had the most each year. It could be dangerous to be caught in the middle of it. Trees were particularly susceptible to strikes.

  He pulled out his cell phone and tapped out a quick message to Jason and Maggie warning them of the forecast. All three of them had gone through the Alabama tornadoes in March. They weren’t likely to look at stormy skies ever again in the same way.

  Creed sat and stared at the marks in the sand where a boat had pulled up and beached. It had done so, o
ver and over again and as recent as hours ago. At least the killer was gone for now.

  But suddenly, Creed felt a prickle along the back of his neck. He stood up. Then he told Grace to stay while he walked farther downstream along the creek edge. It was impossible to see from here, but Creed realized the man could have other spots where he came ashore. By now, he probably knew this area well enough that he could sneak up on the crime scene and do it from several different ways. Creed had seen enough pieces of this man’s handiwork to know what he was capable of doing.

  He walked back to Grace while a knot started forming in his gut. He didn’t like that his property was less than half a mile away. How close had Brodie come to running into this guy during her walks through the forest? He hated the thought of her being chased. It didn’t matter that she was okay. It still felt like he had let her down. Dangerously so.

  Ever since he found her and brought her home, all he wanted to do was protect her. And somehow, he’d managed to put her in the middle of a madman’s path. A killer who wasn’t happy that they’d stumbled onto his dumping ground.

  And the worst part? Now the guy knew where they lived.

  Chapter 22

  Pensacola Beach, Florida

  Taylor Donahey was annoyed at herself. Here she was again looking and waiting for a text message from a man.

  She had finished her shift and drove straight home to her apartment on the beach.

  On the beach!

  She still couldn’t believe that part. Granted, it was tiny. One room made up the living space. A counter that could seat two, and certainly no more than three, separated the kitchen. Not like she knew two other people she could invite for dinner. But hopefully someday, and soon, William would join her for a meal. Then she realized she didn’t even know what his favorite food was. There was so much she didn’t know about her little boy.

  It was too early to hope for a sleepover, and her in-laws wouldn’t be crazy about the arrangements. They certainly wouldn’t like the fact that there was only one bedroom and a foldout sofa. But she’d already decided she’d give William her bed. Taylor had slept on army cots and in the back of Humvees. Even a Serta plush mattress hadn’t stopped the nightmares, so a lumpy foldout sofa wouldn’t make a difference.