Hidden Creed

by Alex Kava

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “I know you collected some items that are being processed for fingerprints and DNA. Do you have anything that the killer might have worn, or maybe an item he held onto for a period?”

  Creed was thinking about the footprints. Two days ago Grace had been able to pick up the lingering scent and identify it enough to lead him and Norwich to the edge of the creek where the killer had docked his boat. But after all the rains he might need something else.

  “Are you asking if we have anything with the killer’s scent?”

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  “How long does scent stay on an item?” she asked.

  “Depends on the item. If it’s a piece of clothing that’s been recently worn and not laundered, there are usually skin rafts caught in the fabric. When we’re tracking a missing person, a piece of clothing is what works best. Shoes are great because very few people wash them.

  “We use a person’s saliva or breath when we’re training for a particular illness or disease, but I’ve never used it to track an individual. Scent preservation kits use a pad that’s swiped under the arm or across the back of the neck.”

  “Scent preservation kit?”

  “We just started doing those.” He didn’t want to get into a lengthy discussion, but when the medical examiner remained silent, he figured he owed her that much. After all, what he was asking from her was for a piece of evidence from an open case.

  “Mostly, they’re being used for elderly people with early dementia. They collect their own scent, or a family member does it. The kit has a scent collection pad, a jar or specimen cup with a tamper-proof seal and ID label. If we provide the kit, Hannah prefers we store them. Families sometime forget where they put it. And nursing facilities don’t always want the responsibility of storing them. They do need to be kept out of heat and sunlight. Our contact information is in their files to call us if the person walks off and gets lost.”

  “That’s interesting,” she said.

  The entire time he was talking he heard papers rustling.

  “We did retrieve a fast food bag with his leftovers,” she told him. “I’m hoping there might be enough for a DNA sample. But Maggie just sent all that off to the FBI’s crime lab.”

  Creed knew what he was asking to do was a long shot. He wasn’t even sure it would work.

  “What are you hoping to accomplish?” Vickie asked. “Are you thinking your dog can sniff out the killer?”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but I think he’s still hanging around the crime scene.”

  “And if she finds him?”

  He hadn’t thought it all out yet, but he didn’t want to tell her that. All Creed knew, was the guy had started coming out of the forest and onto his property. A killer—a serial killer—was taking a risk to observe and scrutinize where Hannah and Brodie and Jason and Grace and all their dogs lived.

  At the crime scene, Creed had seen what the man was capable of doing. The fact that he was taking such a risk told Creed it wouldn’t be long before he targeted one of them. Before he hurt one of them.

  “Grace will be attached to me,” he told the medical examiner. Then he added, “And hopefully, there will be plenty of law enforcement officers there who can apprehend him.”

  He added this last part only because he knew it was what she wanted to hear. But Creed didn’t expect the guy to stick around if the woods were crawling with sheriff’s deputies.

  “Hold on and let me look at Hadley’s list. He found and bagged some items that I haven’t seen yet.”

  Creed wondered if he might be able to talk Maggie into getting back that fast food bag. If the guy had carried it, curled his fingers around to crumple it, maybe the bag would still have some of his scent? Maybe there was even a napkin inside?

  “You might be in luck,” Vickie came back on. “Although, I have to tell you we have no way of knowing whether this belonged to one of the victims or the killer. But Hadley noted it wasn’t found with or near the bodies we recovered.”

  “What is it?”

  “A black ball cap. Tampa Bay Buccaneers.”

  Chapter 50

  Pensacola Beach

  Taylor heard the whop-whop of the helicopter’s rotors. She needed to get up and prepare for a fresh set of casualties. She could feel the hot air blowing in on her. But she didn’t smell the blood. Or the dust.

  There was so much dust.

  They could never keep it out.

  Dust and blood.

  Both stuck to her sweat-drenched body. She always scrubbed and scrubbed, but the scent stayed in her nostrils.

  She waited for it to come to her now, riding on the hot air that washed over her body. But it wasn’t blood or dust that she smelled. It was salty and wet and refreshing.

  Refreshing?

  She startled awake and sat up in bed. It took her a moment to realize where she was. The patio door was open a few inches, just enough to billow the sheer curtains. She could hear the waves. No helicopters. She glanced at the bedside clock and started to jump out of bed then remembered it was her day off.

  She hadn’t had one in a long stretch, preferring to work and to keep her from counting the days until she could see William. She stretched out on the bed and wished she hadn’t told John Lockett to go home. If Derrick was going to take forever to get her a meeting with William’s grandparents, maybe she could use a little distraction.

  And not for the first time since yesterday’s lunch, she thought about the young soldier named Jason. She’d almost allowed him to become her latest distraction. It was a good thing he couldn’t meet her for a drink last night, or he might be here waking up with her.

  Derrick, the devil, was right about her. She did have a bad habit that needed to be broken if she intended to have her son back in her life. She thought she had a good chance with Lockett to start something healthy. Something safe.

  Who was she fooling? She had no idea how to do relationships.

  None of that, however, kept her from thinking about Jason. He was much younger than Lockett. And shorter, but she liked that Jason stood eye to eye with her. He seemed sweet and genuine, but one look at his prosthetic, and she knew he had seen and experienced things that could have destroyed him. And that made her even more curious.

  At the Segway House, she remembered finding his clumsy flirting charming. He obviously wasn’t used to doing it, but she liked that it didn’t stop him.

  She had avoided dating military men, but the more time that separated her from her deployment, the more she felt the desire to talk about it. And it certainly wasn’t conversation for civilians. Howard had reminded her that only another veteran, who still had the stink in their nostrils and those sounds in their heads, could understand.

  When she saw Jason and the other two guys around the poker table, she had been so tempted to join them. She knew they had invited her because of how she looked. Would they still be interested if they discovered she had scars, too?

  She turned onto her side and watched the water beyond the big boats. A whole day to herself. What the hell was she going to do? It was too early for drinks at Walter’s Canteen and probably too early for poker at the Segway House.

  She pushed herself out of bed and decided to make a protein shake then go for a run. She turned on the small television that faced the kitchen. Sometimes she needed voices in her apartment to stop her mind from looping over and over the same ole stuff.

  As she pulled out the ingredients, she watched the local news waiting for the weather forecast. It was something she did on a daily basis in Virginia. Here in the Florida Panhandle it didn’t matter. Sunny, hot, humid and a chance of an afternoon thunderstorm. But before the weather came on, the news anchor started talking about the body of a man found in Blackwater River State Forest.

  For some reason it sent a chill down Taylor’s back. She grabbed the remote and punched up the volume.

  From the map in the corner, she could see the forest was just over the I-10 Bridge
and in Santa Rosa County.

  “No details on the identity of the man have been released. The sheriff’s department has confirmed that they are investigating the death as a homicide. There are other unconfirmed reports that there might be more bodies buried at this site. We’ll have more on this story tonight.”

  Taylor told herself that it had nothing to do with Lockett.

  Of course, it didn’t. You’re being ridiculous.

  She said it out loud as if that would convince her.

  Chapter 51

  K9 CrimeScents

  Creed was at the end of his long driveway, about to make the quick trip to Pensacola to pick up the ball cap. When his cell phone started ringing, he wanted to ignore it. He saw the caller’s ID and tapped the Jeep’s touchscreen to receive it.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Hey, I’m glad I got you,” Maggie said with a hint of urgency.

  Creed immediately caught himself holding back a sigh. Was she calling only because they needed something else from him to process?

  Then she surprised him when she added, “I owe you an apology.”

  “An apology? What for?”

  “You’re being polite. I’ve been acting too much like an FBI agent.”

  “It’s a big part of who you are. Nothing wrong with that. I tend to act like a dog handler about 110 percent of the time.”

  “And it’s one of the things I love about you. But mine involves killers and crawling inside their minds. It’s not always healthy.”

  He felt an uptick of his pulse. She just said it was something she “loved about him.” Then just as quickly he dismissed it. It wasn’t the same thing as saying she loved him. People said stuff like that all the time. Of course, people did.

  But not Maggie O’ Dell.

  Neither one of them had used the word “love,” even the one night they’d spent together making love. Actually, Creed appreciated that they didn’t throw the word around. He’d slept with lots of women and never once uttered the word. He didn’t expect it from Maggie, and he certainly wasn’t looking for it.

  So why was any of this bothering him?

  She’d called to apologize. That was huge. Accept it and move on.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You shouldn’t apologize for loving your job.”

  “Well, I called to see if you could have dinner with me tonight on the beach.”

  He knew she was staying at Margaritaville. On the beach. They could have dinner anywhere. Was she inviting to the beach as a prelude for an overnight stay?

  “I can’t. I’m sorry.” He shook his head and wanted to kick himself. Before she could respond, he said, “We had a visitor on our property last night.”

  “What do you mean a visitor?”

  “Brodie was the only one who saw him. Hannah’s checking the video feeds from our security cameras to see if any of them caught a glimpse of him.”

  “Did she recognize him?”

  “It was dark. He was creeping around in the shadows. Tripped one of the motion-sensor floodlights. That’s what woke her up. But she thinks it’s the same guy who chased her in the forest.”

  “I don’t like this. He’s starting to take bigger risks.”

  “And becoming more dangerous.”

  When she didn’t answer immediately, he continued, “He’s got to be pissed that we found his hiding place, right? I mean the guy dragged those bodies into a part of the forest where no one else goes. He felt comfortable enough to leave them to melt into the landscape. Then all of sudden, Brodie and I come along and ruin it all.”

  “You think he’s targeting you?”

  “I’m worried he’s targeting Brodie.”

  He waited out her silence. The longer it lasted, the more it confirmed his suspicion.

  Finally she said, “He may have left us something that will identify him. There’s a good chance we have his fingerprints. Maybe his DNA.”

  “No offense, but how long will that take? In the meantime, he’s free to sneak in and out of the forest. I think he’s getting more desperate. He’s definitely getting bolder coming onto my property.”

  “What about having the sheriff’s department assign a deputy?” she asked.

  “To patrol my property?” He let out a frustrated laugh. “I’ll take care of my own property.”

  Another phone call started coming in. He could see on the display that it was Mark Hadley, the CSU tech.

  “I’ve got a call coming in from Hadley,” he told her.

  “Ryder, just be careful, okay?”

  “I’ll talk to you later,” he said and ended the call to pick up Hadley’s.

  “Hi Mark.”

  “I’m on my way back out to the forest, but I wanted to update you. McLane and Gallagher didn’t see anybody else in the forest last night.”

  “He must have taken a different path.”

  “Oh, they didn’t see him, but he was definitely there. He took their boat.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “At the break of daylight when Danvers and Sullivan came up the creek to relieve them, they found the night shift’s boat about two miles down. It was tilted against the bank, left on display for them to find. Has a hole in it about the size of a basketball.”

  “What kind of crazy game is he playing?”

  “There’s something else,” Hadley said. “Local media knows there were bodies found in the forest. Not just one.”

  “Chief Deputy Glenn?”

  “You didn’t hear that from me.”

  “How’s Sheriff Norwich doing?” Creed asked.

  “She’s out of intensive care but still in the hospital. There’s talk she might not be back for a while. I heard Dr. Kammerer asked that FBI agent for official help on the case. I hope that’s true because this could get messy and dangerous.”

  “I’m pretty sure she already is on the case,” Creed told him. “Hadley, be careful out there.”

  Chapter 52

  Pensacola, Florida

  Maggie checked for messages then jammed her cell phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She didn’t like any of this. Ryder was right about the killer. But if she admitted that to him, he’d see it as justification to take things into his own hands.

  She already heard the urgency in his voice. There was a slight hint of panic, too. She couldn’t blame him. She knew before she suggested it that he wouldn’t trust the local law enforcement officials. This was something she actually understood.

  There were few people Maggie trusted, and on several occasions that lack of trust had resulted in her going rogue without any backup. Rarely did the consequences matter to her, whether they were reprimands from her boss or physical injury to herself or even the psychological scars. She did want she believed was right, what was necessary. And most of the time, she’d do it all again.

  That was something she and Ryder shared. Call it stubborn. Call it pig-headedness. It was dangerous and nobody understood it as clearly as she did.

  She left the rental vehicle down the lane and walked back to Storage Unit B12. She unlocked the padlock, slid the bolt, and pulled up the garage door. Then she took a couple of steps back. It still smelled awful, but after several days of ripe decomp in the forest, putting up with this would be a breeze.

  Vickie had given her the key. Two days ago the medical examiner wasn’t comfortable leaving Maggie alone to sort through the contents. Now, she didn’t hesitate to give her the key. Funny how murder and a serial killer could bring people together. How it could win mutual trust.

  She thought about Ryder, again. She didn’t blame him for being impatient with local law enforcement. But she detected his impatience with her, too.

  Why hadn’t she been able to narrow down who this guy might be? He was sneaking around the forest, coming and going in broad daylight as well as at night, and yet no one had a clue as to who he was. Other than Brodie, no one had even caught a glimpse of him. How was that possible?

  She was h
oping her crew back at Quantico would provide some answers. Agent Antonio Alonzo had all the contact information for Hank’s owner. Maggie was guessing that Hank’s owner was the man Brodie stumbled over in the forest. The man they were referring to as John Doe #1.

  But it wasn’t just the fact that the man probably had Hank’s dog hair on his clothing, which Vickie’s lab would be able to determine. No, Maggie had a gut feeling the bullets would show that both man and dog were shot by the same gun. As she tried to piece things together, she wondered if perhaps the killer didn’t know about the dog until Hank came at him to protect his owner. He probably believed the dog ran off and died. But how did he not realize the man he shot was not dead? He would have had to transport his body from where he shot him to the forest.

  The boat launch.

  It only now occurred to her. The place where Hank was shot. That had to be where his owner was shot, too. How many afternoon thundershowers had washed away evidence?

  She checked her wristwatch. She wondered if she could remember how to find it on her own. But first, she needed to take a better look at the contents of this storage unit. She had another gut feeling about something inside.

  She made her way through the mess, high stepping over and weaving through the obstacle course. There appeared to be no rhyme or reason for how things were stacked or arranged. It was so disorganized, with so little forethought, that simple pathways weren’t left to maneuver through the space.

  Maggie suspected the items at the back had been placed there first. Containers, trash bags, specimen cups and buckets were added as they were acquired, simply put down in whatever empty spot remained and filling the unit from back to front until there wasn’t any space left.

  Toward the back she found more sturdy plastic containers with faded labels. She pulled out her cell phone and took a few photos. Using the flashlight on her phone, she squatted closer to try and read the labels. A blue and yellow logo at the top read UnitedBIO. Underneath in small type it read, The Living Bank.

  The containers may have been transparent at one time but were now milky white. It was impossible to see what was inside. But these were placed one on top of another. There were different sizes and of course, the largest weren’t at the bottom. It looked like a sloppy tower that could topple over with a simple touch.