Hidden Creed

by Alex Kava

  His phone pinged.

  It was a text message from Jason asking him to call as soon as possible.

  Creed hoped it didn’t have anything to do with Hank. When he checked on him before he left, the dog was awake but groggy. He glanced at his wristwatch. Dr. Avelyn should be there about now.

  He scrolled and tapped Jason’s number. The kid picked up immediately as if he were waiting for the call.

  “What’s going on?” Creed asked.

  “Everything’s okay,” Jason said only making Creed stand up and pace. “Someone tossed a garbage bag over the fence in the outer yard.”

  “Someone? What the hell was in it?”

  “A couple of T-bone steaks rolled in some kind of blue powder. Dr. Avelyn thinks it’s a cleaning product.”

  “Which dogs found it? Did they eat any of it?”

  “Chance and Winnie, but we don’t think either of them ate it. She’s giving them charcoal tablets just in case, and we’ve got both of them in the clinic for observation.”

  Creed released a long sigh and rubbed his hand over his bristled jaw. Less than twenty-four hours.

  “This is getting ridiculous,” he said as he paced the length of the small room. “That bag wasn’t there this morning. I always walk the yard. Now he’s sneaking around during the day. I’m really glad you noticed the bag.”

  “It wasn’t me. It was Brodie. She noticed on the livestream monitors. She thought the dogs had something cornered. We both thought it was an animal.”

  “She’s certainly getting a wicked initiation into our business, isn’t she?”

  Creed heard some ruffling sounds. When Jason answered this time his voice was lower. Brodie must have been within earshot.

  “She seems to think it’s her fault.”

  “I told her not to do that.” Creed winced and shook his head. “I need to stop this guy.”

  “We need to stop this guy,” Jason corrected him. “What do you have in mind? Because I have some ideas of my own.”

  “You think Benny and Colfax would have time to meet with us today?”

  “If we buy them lunch and drinks at Walter’s Canteen, I think they’ll make time.”

  Creed checked his watch again and said, “Make it a late lunch, around one or two o’clock. I’ll meet you guys there.”

  “Got it.”

  Just as he slipped his phone back into his pocket, Creed heard voices in the hallway. He stepped out to find Vickie with her hands full of brown evidence bags. Maggie followed carrying a white five-gallon bucket and had what looked like a roll of paper towels tucked under her arm.

  “Have you two been out fishing?” he joked.

  “Oh, we just keep finding all kinds of treats,” Vickie said. “It’s frickin’ Christmas in June.”

  Chapter 57

  Recovery Gardens

  Kayla Hudson had allowed Luke a play date at his friend’s house. She didn’t particularly like the friend. Owen was a nerdy, know-it-all, but he and Luke enjoyed the same brainteaser games. And besides, what mattered most to Kayla was that Owen’s mother had been a nurse before she became a stay-at-home mom. She was one of the few mothers in Luke’s group of friends that knew anything about type 1 diabetes.

  Traffic was so hectic she could hardly enjoy the scenery along US-98. It didn’t help that Eric’s panicked phone calls and voice messages had made her more tense and anxious than usual. He had that luxury suite, a swimming pool and those lovely pathways surrounded by beautiful gardens. There was 24/7 access to cafés and a coffee shop. What more could he want? How could he not relax and enjoy any of that?

  She knew it was the drug withdrawals that caused his paranoia and the hysterics. It had to be. Suddenly, he cared about some guy named Simon. She wondered if Eric was pissed that Simon looked like he was worse off than Eric, but Simon got to go home.

  No one would tell her anything over the phone. Confidentiality. They didn’t care that Kayla was his wife. For some reason she wasn’t listed on his admission documents as a contact, and so it didn’t matter that she was his wife. She sat right next to him as he filled out those papers. Why in the world wouldn’t he have put her name down?

  They had very strict rules, she was told. That her name wasn’t listed, disqualified her as a visitor.

  “I’m certain all of the rules were explicitly explained to your husband when he checked in,” the woman in the Family Guidance office told her. Seriously, they had an office called “family guidance” that offered no guidance other than, “Those are the rules.”

  She tried to talk to Eric by phone, only to be informed that he was allowed just one phone call per week while he went through Phase 1. And he’d already made his phone call for the week. That seemed a bit harsh. And again, she realized how little she had paid attention to his admission into this program.

  Truthfully, she had been flabbergasted by the extravagance of the place. And although she hated to admit it, she had felt a little jealous. No, that wasn’t true. She felt a lot jealous. That was the reason she hadn’t paid any attention to the rules or even thought to ask. It looked like a five-star vacation to her, and she found herself wishing she could trade places with Eric.

  Also, a small part of her didn’t believe Eric would follow through. He had only agreed because he suddenly felt like he was making some major contribution to Luke’s welfare by ordering up this magic dog. He wanted to be there for the training part like it gave him some purpose in life.

  Deep down, Kayla already figured she’d be alone even this fall when the dog was supposed to be ready. By then, Eric would probably be back to using. Back to his zombie self. She couldn’t even remember what he was like before he went off to Afghanistan. Before Luke’s diabetes.

  No, Kayla didn’t expect her life to get any better any time soon.

  But Eric’s last voice message had affected her so much she couldn’t shake the feeling that something awful was going to happen.

  Unlike his other messages, he sounded almost calm. The panic was gone. His tone had an eerie acceptance to it.

  “No matter what, I love you Kayla,” he said, his voice clear and stronger than it had been in weeks. “Please tell Luke I love him. I know you don’t believe it, but you two are my everything.”

  She swatted at the unexpected tears.

  Whether this was only part of a drug withdrawal disillusion, the finality of it sounded convincing. He truly believed he wasn’t going to see her or Luke ever again.

  She pulled into the long service road that looped around the luscious grounds of the facility. They refused to answer her questions over the phone, but in person, she would demand to see her husband.

  Chapter 58

  Medical Examiner’s Office

  Pensacola, Florida

  Creed wasn’t sure he heard correctly.

  “You think this storage unit has something to do with the crime scene in the forest?” As he asked the question he looked from Vickie to Maggie and back to Vickie.

  “Our resident FBI agent believes that,” Vickie said. “She still needs to explain it to me.”

  “When you cleaned John Lockett’s body do you remember removing a paper towel?” Maggie asked.

  “Wait a minute.” Creed stopped them. “The dead guy in the forest was actually Hank’s owner? You know for sure he’s John Lockett?”

  The expression on Maggie’s face softened. “I should have texted you,” she said. “Yes, we made a visual ID about an hour ago. We’re still trying to check fingerprints to confirm.”

  “And if his fingerprints have never been processed before,” Vickie added, “we’ll see if there are dental records to confirm.”

  At one point, Creed thought Hank’s owner might be the one responsible for the dog’s gunshot wound. Now, that he knew that wasn’t the case, he realized Dr. Avelyn may have been right about Hank trying to protect his owner. Creed felt a sudden gut-punch, grasping the full extent of the dog’s loss.

  “I have Agent Alonzo digging f
or more information about Lockett,” Maggie said.

  He was grateful she didn’t verbally acknowledge his dismay even as he could feel her eyes do exactly that.

  “Was he married? Did he live with someone? Kids?” Creed wanted to know.

  He could tell that Maggie knew what he was really asking. He wondered if there was anyone else Hank had in his day-to-day life. He needed to find out if the dog had other connections or relationships Creed might be ripping him away from if he kept him.

  “Alonzo will find out.” Maggie reassured him.

  Vickie was offloading the evidence bags onto counters and paid little attention to their conversation.

  “There was a paper towel stuck to his shirt,” the medical examiner said finally answering Maggie’s question. “It looked like someone just put it there. It certainly wasn’t going to stop the bleeding.”

  “Do you still have it?” Maggie asked.

  “The paper towel?”

  Vickie furrowed her brow like she didn’t have time for inane details. But then she grabbed a pair of latex gloves, yanking them on as she walked to the counter at the far end of the room. She found the evidence bag she wanted and brought it back. She wrote on the label and broke the seal of red tape.

  “There are two squares,” she said as she pulled the shirt out. “I left them stuck to the shirt.”

  As Vickie carefully unfolded the fabric, Maggie gently pried open the package of paper towels she had been carrying. She set the wrapper to the side. Then she unrolled two sheets and separated them from the roll. She placed the sheets across the top of the shirt arranging its edge next to the blood-stained paper towels.

  The tiny yellow ducks and pinks flowers lined up almost perfectly to the bloodstained ducks and flowers. There was no question, the patterns matched exactly.

  “So the paper towels were bought at the same store,” Vickie said. “A strange but insignificant coincidence.”

  “Not a coincidence,” Maggie said. She picked up the package she had carefully removed from the paper towels. She found what she wanted on one side and handed it to Vickie. “It’s an advertisement for garden seeds. Check out the expiration date.”

  “August 21, 1999?”

  “I had Agent Alonzo do some checking while I waited for you and Sheriff Clayton,” Maggie explained. “This pattern was discontinued in 2001. The company was sold to a larger corporation, so the brand doesn’t even exist anymore. What are the odds that two unrelated people in Pensacola would just happen to have the same twenty-year-old rolls of paper towels laying around in their garage...or storage unit?”

  “Interesting,” Vickie said. “So because of the matching paper towels, you think the killer had access to Unit B12?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you think it matters because...?” Vickie still sounded skeptical.

  Creed watched the two women waiting for a good time to interrupt their forensic gamesmanship. All he wanted was the black ball cap and to be on his way. But he was curious why Maggie thought it mattered.

  “Because we recovered a woman’s body in the forest,” Maggie explained. “But we didn’t recover her head.”

  “What about the skull I found?” Creed asked.

  “I’ve checked. It was a male’s,” Vickie told him without taking her eyes from Maggie’s.

  The medical examiner seemed to understand the connection Maggie had made to the storage unit, but Creed was still lost.

  Vickie looked at him, pointed to the five-gallon bucket and said, “Maggie may have found the poor woman’s head.”

  Chapter 59

  You’re okay giving him a piece of evidence?” Maggie asked Vickie. She wasn’t pleased, but she’d waited until the exchange was over, and Creed had left.

  “I pulled a couple hair samples from it. Those are more important than the actual cap. Besides, he’ll bring it back.” Vickie stopped what she was doing to look over at Maggie then added, “You’re not gonna rat me out?”

  “No, of course not. It’s just that I know what he wants it for.”

  “He thinks the long arm of the law moves too slowly,” Vickie said. “It’s not like he’s going to run off into the woods to capture the guy by himself.”

  Maggie folded her arms over her chest and released a frustrated sigh. “He’s a former Marine. That’s exactly what he has in mind.”

  “Too bad you two aren’t in a relationship, or you’d be able to tell him not to do that.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m just saying you might want to reconsider upgrading your status.”

  Maggie tried to roll the tension from her shoulders. She was worried about Ryder. She saw the urgency in his eyes, but she wasn’t going to discuss it with the medical examiner. She already had too much insight on the subject. Time to move on.

  “You’ll be able to check DNA samples,” Maggie said. “From the body in the forest against DNA from the head.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’d like to send samples to the FBI lab, too. They might be able to identify her.” Then Maggie asked, “Were you able to confirm the woman in the forest was beheaded intentionally?”

  Vickie had found bones inside the woman’s collar with cut-marks.

  “It looks that way. I’ll take a look to see if the head has similar marks. I have to tell you,” Vickie said, “I’m not seeing much continuity with this killer. He shoots one guy but doesn’t kill him. But he decapitates a second victim, which seems like overkill.”

  “What about John Doe #2?”

  “Well, this is where it gets even more interesting,” the medical examiner told her. “I know you’ll find this compelling because it has to do with maggots.”

  Vickie rubbed her hands together like she was excited to share. “He had no bullet wound. There was no trauma to the head or any part of his body. Don’t serial killers usually keep to the same modus operandi?”

  “Sometimes it’s part of their ritual,” Maggie said. “They try to get better using the same tactics. But there can be a level of experimentation. This guy is so clumsy, so disorganized, I can’t imagine him taking the time to perfect or experiment. How do you think John Doe #2 was murdered?”

  “Remember the maggots I removed from him? I told you I thought they were uncharacteristically small and sluggish. I sent toxicology some of his hair and tissue.”

  “Did they find anything?” Maggie asked.

  “I haven’t heard back yet. But I hate waiting, and those pesky maggots kept nagging on my mind. Chances are, anything they ate might still be in their crop. So I had one of my assistants grind some of them up.”

  Maggie winced at the thought, and her discomfort only made Vickie grin.

  “Opioids,” the medical examiner told her.

  “You were able to tell?”

  “Yup. But I’ll wait to see if I can confirm with the toxicology report. I suspect he died of a drug overdose.”

  “Were there any drugs in John Lockett?” Maggie asked.

  “I’m still waiting. But I should have his back tomorrow.”

  “How difficult would it be to intentionally kill someone with an opioid? I mean is that what you’re speculating? That the killer may have given a drug load that purposely caused an overdose? Does the victim have to somehow be a willing participant?”

  “Illegally made opioids, like some of the fentanyl we’re seeing, can be very dangerous. Sometimes it’s mixed with other drugs like heroin, cocaine or methamphetamines. Addicts use a powder version or a liquid that’s put in eyedroppers or nasal sprays. So it’s not like they’re measuring out the same dosage.

  “Unfortunately, overdosing is not difficult. But here’s something to consider,” Vickie said, and she pulled out a couple of photos from one of her stacks.

  Maggie recognized the garbage bag Scout had found in the woods. One of the photos showed the contents lined up. The paraphernalia included the two-litter soda bottle, some nasal spray containers, blotter paper and several empty boxes of Fe
ntanyl transdermal patches along with discarded wrappers.

  “We thought the killer might have a drug problem,” Vickie said. “But what if this was the stash he used to overdose his victims?’

  “Why would he show us?” Maggie asked as something in the back of her mind started to nag at her. Something she had seen or heard. What was it? Alonzo had brought up something about a drug rehab center.

  “These patches,” Vickie told her, as she pointed to the empty boxes. “I’m no expert in the illegal drug business, but those are pharmaceutical grade and doctor prescribed.”

  “Is it a slow or painful death?” she asked.

  “Breathing slows down. So does the heart. There’s a decrease of oxygen to the brain. The person becomes unresponsive. Maybe slips into a coma. I suppose it’s possible to not even notice what’s happening until it’s too late.”

  “I’ve tracked serial killers who tortured and raped their victims. A couple extracted body parts or dismembered their victims. Some eagerly admitted there was a certain gratification they’d get from seeing the fear and pain in their victims’ eyes. They liked the control over another human being’s life. They liked to see them grovel. But I haven’t seen anything quite like this.”

  “Well, I have one other thing that might cheer you up,” Vickie said. She walked over to a desk in the corner and picked up a file folder. She came back and handed it to Maggie.

  “What is this?”

  “John Doe #2,” Vickie told her. “We were able to identify him from his fingerprints. He was arrested about three months ago. Case was dismissed. All that’s in the file. Turns out he was a veteran named Simon Perry.”

  Chapter 60

  Walter’s Canteen

  Pensacola Beach, Florida

  At the last minute, Jason invited Brodie to go with him. Ryder wouldn’t be happy about including her. Not because he didn’t think women shouldn’t be included. The man surrounded himself with and depended on women every day.