by Alex Kava
Creed glanced at his wristwatch. “I can take care of Scout.”
“No, I already blew it. And you know what, if she doesn’t get it...you know, about Scout being a priority then maybe I’m not missing out.
“I’ve never been good at figuring out women,” Jason continued, “Whenever I went somewhere with Tony, women flocked to him. I was his wingman. If a girl wanted Tony, she usually brought along a friend for me.”
Creed knew Jason still missed his friend.
“Sounds like a sweet deal. But then you never get to choose or fight for the woman you really want to be with,” Creed told him.
“Says the guy who sits back and lets his gorgeous, smart woman keep coming to him whenever and wherever she chooses.”
It felt like a sucker-punch, but Creed knew the kid didn’t mean it that way. Actually, Creed didn’t realize it was that apparent to anyone else. Instead of offering an excuse, he said, “True. But my gorgeous, smart woman scares easily.”
“I get the feeling Taylor does, too. So what do you do?”
“I let her call the shots.”
“And it gets you the kind of relationship you want?” Jason asked.
“Not at all.”
“I’m confused.”
“That makes two of us. I honestly can’t tell you what kind of a relationship Maggie and I have. But I get the feeling it’s all she can offer right now.”
“And if it’s not enough for you?’
Creed shrugged. “Hannah says things happen for a reason.”
“And Hannah is a very smart woman,” Maggie said, coming in the door and startling them both.
Chapter 46
Creed had gotten used to Grace giving him a heads up. Her tail would have been wagging before Maggie had gotten out of her rental vehicle. But Grace was with Brodie and Hannah.
If Maggie heard his and Jason’s conversation, she didn’t let on. Jason, however, flushed red, told her “hello,” and went to get Scout. Seconds later he was leading the big dog out the door.
“Scout looks good,” Maggie said. “Is he okay?”
“They’re both doing good.”
“And Hank?” she asked, looking around as if she expected to see him to emerge, too.
“He’s still pretty groggy.”
She took the chair directly opposite of Creed in the room that was part office, part lounge. It was small, so they were almost knee-to-knee. He and Hannah had spared no expense for the surgical suite, the recovery kennels and other equipment. Whatever Dr. Avelyn had asked for or recommended, he bought without question. But Creed didn’t expect any of them to spend much time in an office. It was really for Dr. Avelyn if she needed to work remotely, handling business for her Milton clinic while she was here. Still, the sofa folded out into a bed. But Creed and Grace had dragged its thin mattress to Hank’s room. Creed planned on spending his nights here until Hank was well enough to be moved.
“Sorry, I didn’t let you know I was coming,” Maggie said.
Maybe she had heard some of the conversation.
“Not a problem,” he told her. “You know you’re welcome any time.”
“Dr. Kammerer finished the autopsy of John Doe #1. I offered the FBI’s crime lab to process some of the evidence.”
“Anything interesting?” He asked when he really wanted to ask why she was still on this case. Did it have anything to do with the storage unit in Pensacola? It was the original reason for her trip down.
When she called him last week, it sounded like she barely had time for them to get together for dinner one night before she headed back. Now she was working a crime scene in the forest, helping bag remains and offering the FBI’s crime lab.
Maybe Jason had hit a nerve. Maybe he wasn’t content with where things were with him and Maggie or letting her call all the shots.
“Actually, there is a lot of stuff to process. I can’t believe how sloppy this guy is.”
“I can’t believe he’s been dumping dead bodies so close. I thought the forest was safe except for a black bear now and then.”
“Vickie did find something interesting. Dog hair on the victim’s clothing.”
She paused as if she expected him to make a connection without further explanation. Then she finally added, “Short, tan-colored dog hair.”
“You think it might be Hank’s?”
“I think there’s a good possibility. Vickie can have her lab techs check. They’ll be able to tell if it is his.”
“But she needs a sample,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Plucked?”
“If possible. Was there a bullet?”
“Yes. Small caliber,” Creed told her. “It hit him just above the shoulder. We’re hoping it didn’t cause any damage.” But she wasn’t asking about the dog. Only the bullet.
“Can I take that back with me?”
“I guess so.”
Being a dog handler had trained Creed to hide his immediate reactions, even his emotions. Dogs sensed their handler’s moods. He kept himself aware that emotions ran down the leash and could affect his scent dog’s performance. He was careful about not telegraphing his alarm or anxiety or, in this case, his disappointment. He was able to tuck away the sting without Maggie seeing it.
She hadn’t come to see him. Or check up on Hank. She had come for the hair sample and the bullet.
“I’ve been leaving messages for his owner,” he told her, steering his mind clear of his disappointment.
“License tag?” she asked.
“Microchip. Dr. Avelyn scanned it and was able to get contact information.”
“Did you get a hold of the owner?”
“Not yet. He hasn’t called back.”
“Can you give me his contact information?”
“Sure.”
Then she glanced around, suddenly uncomfortable as if she had just realized something.
“What is it?” Creed asked.
“I think his owner is the victim Brodie stumbled over. I think he might be John Doe #1.”
Chapter 47
K9 CrimeScents
Florida Panhandle
Brodie jerked awake. A flash of light streaked across her bedroom window. She pushed herself up and waited for the thunder. None came.
Her bedsheet was damp with sweat and tangled around her legs. She searched for Kitten while she pinched herself hard on her forearm.
It hurt!
That was a good thing. It meant she wasn’t dreaming.
The trick had worked in the past. But it didn’t help to wake her if she was in the middle of a nightmare. Sometimes the Charlottes came to her. Just last week, one had been standing right next to her bed. Brodie pretended to be asleep, but she could feel the girl’s presence. She remembered digging her fingernails into her skin and feeling nothing, but she could still feel those unblinking eyes watching over her.
Iris Malone had called all of them Charlotte including Brodie. She snatched little girls with long, dark hair who resembled her daughter. The daughter had died years before. With each one, Iris hoped to replace Charlotte until the new girl dared to disobey, or worse, try to escape like Brodie had done.
The light flashed across her window, again, just as she heard something move behind her. Brodie twisted around expecting to see one of the Charlottes. But it was only Kitten snuggling down in the pillows.
“We need a guard dog,” she told the cat.
His response was to stretch out and bury his face under his front paws. Ryder had offered her a dog to sleep on the floor beside her bed. She wasn’t sure she was ready for the responsibility that came with a dog. She didn’t think it was fair to ask a dog to take care of her if she couldn’t return the favor.
Brodie checked the digital clock on her nightstand. It was a few minutes before midnight.
Sometimes the security lights came on in the middle of the night. Ryder had them installed on all of the buildings. They had motion sensors that could be triggered by animals or other
intruders. Or when Jason came home late. But she knew he was in his trailer tonight with Scout. And Ryder was at the animal hospital with Hank.
Maybe Ryder and Grace had decided to go to their own bed. Ryder’s loft was the second story of the kennel. A walk from the hospital to there would certainly trigger several of the lights.
She slipped out of bed and went to the window. But she stayed at the side where she could peek out without being seen from down below.
All the lights were off right now. The moon lit the grounds, so she didn’t need the security lights. There was no one. Or perhaps Ryder had already made it from the hospital to his apartment.
She could see his windows from here. They were all dark. There was a dim glow in the kennel’s windows. Ryder never left it dark. A few of the dogs panicked if the place went black. Generators were prepared to switch on at a moment’s notice if the electricity got knocked out.
She found herself thinking about Jason. How brave he was with Scout. He was steady and calm using his artificial hand like it was a natural part of him. Brodie wondered if the others had heard the hint of fear in his voice.
When she first arrived, Jason had taken time out to tell her stories about the dogs in their kennel. All of them had been abandoned in some way. Chance’s owner chose her abusive boyfriend over her dog. Molly and her family were found in a vehicle buried under a mudslide. Molly was the only survivor. They were sad stories, but Jason made them sound like triumphant adventures with happy endings.
She liked Jason...a lot. She liked to be around him. They talked about the books they were reading, exchanging favorites. He pointed out different birds and taught her how to imitate them by holding her tongue a certain way or whistling through her teeth. He said a dog could hear a whistle from farther away than a person calling out.
She shared with him her fascination of the night sky: stars and planets and constellations. She taught him how to tell directions in the dark as long as he could see the sky.
The light streamed across her window again.
It came from the corner of the fieldhouse. Not the hospital. Not the kennel. Maybe Ryder had decided on a late-night swim.
Then she saw the man. He was only a shadow plastered against the outside wall of the building. He was so still she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. But the security light blinked dark again, and he began to move.
He slid along the wall toward the back of the building. Just before he reached another corner he dropped to the ground behind some bushes. No other lights flicked on. About twenty feet on that side of the fieldhouse, the woods began.
She waited and watched, holding her breath. Her heart throbbed against her chest. Brodie pinched herself, again.
It hurt!
This wasn’t one of her dreams. She needed to go wake up Hannah.
Chapter 48
Creed pulled only his jeans on. He didn’t take the extra minutes for boots. As soon as he got Hannah’s alert that someone was sneaking around their property he was in tactical mode, despite waking up suddenly. His muscles tensed. He took careful steps while his eyes began to focus in the dark.
He told Grace to stay then he slipped down the dark hallway. He stopped at the office to take a quick glance out the window. It looked out at the fieldhouse, but not the back end. He didn’t keep a weapon anywhere in the animal clinic. He grabbed the metal desk lamp, ripped off the shade and wrapped the cord tight around the base. It felt heavy and was long enough to swing.
Satisfied, he went back into the hallway and punched the app on his cell phone that brought up the security cameras. He tapped one that had a decent angle of that area. The whole time he tapped and glanced, he moved. The camera wasn’t capturing any movement.
He shoved the phone in his back pocket and slipped out the front. Instead of heading directly to the fieldhouse next door, Creed eased along the clinic’s outside wall, weaving his way to the other side.
All of these buildings backed to the forest. They had cleared trees each time they added to their facility, but only as many as necessary. Both Creed and Hannah liked the idea of being nestled in the woods. They saw it as a protective barrier. Until something like this happened. Until someone took advantage and used the woods for camouflage.
His eyes adjusted quickly to the moonlight and the shadows it created. He knew his property intimately. Every shrub and path, but he rarely ventured out barefoot. Everything was still wet from the afternoon rains. It softened the leaves from crunching. Nothing stopped the caps of acorns from stabbing his soles.
The humidity had already started to make his skin slick with sweat. He ignored the rivulets running down his bare chest. He tightened his sweaty grip on the lamp as he peeked around the corner. Shadows danced across the back of the fieldhouse. Most of them were branches bowing and swaying in the breeze.
The hum of the air conditioning units made it difficult to listen. His eyes searched the ground then moved to tree trunks and even skimmed up into the trees. He made his way toward the corner where Brodie had last seen the man. The whole time he watched the shrubs that led back into the forest.
With his back to the wall Creed shot a look around the corner.
There was no one.
But even in the moonlight he could see fresh footprints along the length of the building and disappearing into the shrubs. He followed as far as his bare feet allowed, pulled out his phone and snapped several photos of the best impressions in the damp clay.
Then he backtracked to the clinic, leaving muddy prints from the door all the way down the hall.
“Everything’s okay, Grace,” he reassured her. She was panting but wagging. Hank slept soundly, thankfully not noticing Grace’s anxiety.
Creed sent a couple of quick texts to Hannah. Told her that he and Grace would be there in a few minutes. Then he found the phone number for Mark Hadley. With Sheriff Norwich still in the hospital Creed wasn’t sure who he should call. He knew he’d be waking up the CSU tech.
“Hello?”
“Mark, it’s Ryder Creed. Sorry to wake you. The deputies assigned to the crime scene in the forest, you need to contact them. Someone was sneaking around my property, and he headed back into the forest.”
“You think it’s the killer?”
“I don’t know. But I suspect it’s the same guy who chased Brodie.”
“Could you tell if he’s armed?”
“No.”
“Okay. I’ll let them know. Thanks for the heads up.”
“Sure.”
Creed thought about letting Jason know about the intruder, but his doublewide was on the other side of the property close to the dog kennel and Creed’s loft apartment. There was nothing else that could be done right now. He remembered how exhausted Jason looked and Scout definitely needed the rest. He decided to let them sleep.
When Creed and Grace walked in the back door to the big house, he almost ran into Hannah in the dark.
“Lord have mercy, you took forever.”
“I texted you. He’s gone.”
He flipped on the kitchen lights to find her holding a shotgun. Hannah’s husband, Isaac, had taught her how to shoot before he left to die in Iraq. Hannah did many things well, but she wasn’t a marksman. Fact was, she hated touching a gun and didn’t like them around her boys. But she said the shotgun allowed her half a chance to hit an intruder. It was unsettling to see it grasped in her hands. It revealed how frightened she was.
Brodie sat at the counter with Kitten in her arms. Hunter and Lady were at her feet.
“Are you sure he’s gone?” Brodie asked in a voice that reminded him of a little girl, not the full-grown woman in front of him.
Standing in the middle of the two of them, he realized he’d failed miserably. His top priority was supposed to be keeping them safe.
And yet, Brodie surprised him when she said, “It’s my fault. I led him here.”
“It’s not your fault,” he told her. “Don’t you dare think that.” He must have slipped
and let his frustration show, because both women jerked their heads to look at him. Even Grace sat staring up.
“I think he’s been in the woods the entire time we’ve been at the crime scene.” He saw Hannah’s eyes go wide, and he was surprised she hadn’t thought of it sooner than he did.
“We’ve been going back and forth from here for two days,” Creed continued, now returning to a calm and steady tone. “He would have followed us at some point. So it’s not your fault, Brodie. That very first day he had to see the helicopter come down for Sheriff Norwich.”
“But coming here in the middle of the night. What does it mean?” Brodie asked. “Do you think he came to hurt us?”
Creed wished he could reassure her. He looked to Hannah for help, but she was waiting for his answer, too.
“I don’t know,” Creed finally admitted.
One of the first things Brodie had asked of him when she came to live with him and Hannah, was that he always told her the truth. For sixteen years Iris Malone had brainwashed her into believing that Brodie’s parents didn’t want her back even pretending to talk to them on the phone.
“But I promise,” Creed added, “that he won’t hurt you. Or Hannah and the boys. Or the dogs. I won’t let that happen.”
He saw her shoulders relax just a little, and he was relieved that she didn’t hear any doubt in his voice. Because honestly, he had no idea if he could keep that promise.
Chapter 49
K9 CrimeScents
Florida Panhandle
Wednesday, June 17
Creed waited until after eight o’clock to leave a message for the medical examiner. Yesterday, Maggie had mentioned that Dr. Kammerer had been working late into the evening, so he was surprised when she answered the phone.
They barely got through their greetings, and Vickie launched into details about what she’d found.
“I sent the bullets over to ballistics. Both were small caliber. Interesting, to say the least. And I have someone comparing the dog hair. Maggie’s checking on the dog’s owner.”
“Actually, none of that is why I’m calling,” he told her.