Reckless Creed

by Alex Kava

  “I don’t understand. Who were they?”

  “The man in charge is an FBI agent named Lawrence Tabor.”

  Hannah explained about the missing girl, Izzy Donner. How Ryder and Grace had helped find her body. And about the dead robins. Before today none of what Hannah was telling O’Dell would have warranted much concern.

  “We got them to leave,” Hannah said. “But I know he’ll be back. Is there any way you might be able to talk to him? Dr. Avelyn has the dogs quarantined. She sent samples of the dead birds in for testing, and she’s waiting to hear from someone at the CDC. But I’m just afraid he’ll be back sooner than all that.”

  O’Dell jotted down as much information as Hannah had about Agent Tabor.

  “Can they do that?” Hannah’s voice was calmer now, but O’Dell could still hear a trace of fear.

  “I’m not sure. I know someone at the CDC. I’ll do everything I can to stop them.”

  “Oh, thank you.”

  “Hannah, tell me about the young woman they found in the river.”

  “Actually I don’t know much about her. Rye said she looked peaceful.”

  “Peaceful?”

  “Said it looked like she loaded her jacket pockets with rocks, walked into the river, and just lay down.”

  Suicide?

  Instead of saying it out loud, she asked, “Why was Agent Tabor there? What was his interest in the case?”

  “You know, I don’t rightly know.”

  “Is there any way you or Ryder could find out what happened to her?”

  “Rye knows the medical examiner. I suppose he could give him or Sheriff Wylie a call. You think this has something to do with her? It’s not just about some dead robins with the bird flu virus?”

  “Wait a minute, Agent Tabor actually told you the robins might have the bird flu virus?”

  “I believe that’s what he said.”

  O’Dell sat on the edge of the bed. She’d been pacing dressed only in her nightshirt, and now she was chilled. How would this Agent Tabor know? Or was he just guessing?

  “Hannah, I’m in Chicago, but I’ll be coming down to Pensacola perhaps tomorrow or early Wednesday.” She couldn’t tell Hannah about Tony Briggs. She didn’t know if his family had even been told yet.

  “That would be a blessing to have you here.”

  “If Tabor shows up again, call me or have him call me directly.”

  “Thank you, Maggie.”

  She ended the call and immediately pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt to ward off the chill.

  Pensacola, Florida. Tony Briggs’s hometown. Dead robins and a dead girl in a river that sounded like another suicide. She needed to add another name to Agent Alonzo’s list. She grabbed her laptop to send the e-mail. Then she’d search for flights.

  But the television screen caught her eye.

  O’Dell reached for the remote and turned up the volume. A woman was talking to a reporter. The boxed graphic at the bottom of the screen identified her as Amee Rief, a biologist with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. What caught O’Dell’s interest was behind the biologist.

  Right at that moment the camera panned the area, giving her a better view. The lake looked huge, and every inch of its surface was covered in white snow geese. Rief was explaining that these were migratory birds that usually stopped here every spring on their way to breeding grounds on the Arctic tundra.

  Only these geese were dead. All of them.

  TUESDAY

  24

  FLORIDA PANHANDLE

  You look like hell,” Dr. Avelyn told Creed when he walked into Hannah’s kitchen.

  “Did you get any sleep?” Hannah asked. She was scrambling eggs in one skillet while bacon fried in another.

  He shook his head and rubbed at his unshaved jaw. The bristles were longer than he usually kept them, but he figured that wasn’t what the two women were noticing. He knew his eyes were bloodshot. He’d finished the morning chores and it was still dark outside. It had been a mistake letting Jason spend the night in his loft. The kid snored. Sounded like a chain saw.

  He poured himself a cup of coffee. There were dark circles under Hannah’s eyes. Dr. Avelyn looked rested and she smelled good, something citrus with a hint of coconut. He tried not to notice how good she could smell or look. He knew she was single, somewhere around his age, and she was attractive. But years ago he’d made a promise to himself and to Hannah that he wouldn’t get involved—code word for “sleep with”—any women he worked with. Hannah insisted it would diminish their professional reputation. Bottom line, Creed would never do anything he thought might hurt Hannah.

  “I may have some good news,” Dr. Avelyn told him as he sat down across from her at the kitchen table.

  He glanced up at Hannah. She already knew.

  “You heard back from the CDC?”

  “No, not yet. But I did hear from the state health department. Remember I sent them tissue samples of the robins the same day you found them? Yesterday after Tabor and his goons left, I called a friend who works there and told him about the situation. He tracked down the lab results. There’s absolutely no indication of disease or the bird flu virus.”

  “Any idea what killed them?”

  “I only sent the tissue samples. They’d need the whole bird to check for trauma. Would you like me to do that?”

  “There’s no need, right?”

  “No, the lab results eliminated the possible risks to the dogs and to us.”

  Creed breathed a sigh of relief, so deeply Hannah looked over and laughed at him.

  “That was almost my reaction.”

  “With a string of hallelujahs,” Dr. Avelyn added.

  “Grace is okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. No worries of contamination. No quarantine. I did send tissue samples to the CDC, but I’ll send them these results.”

  “So we shouldn’t have to worry about Tabor?” Hannah asked.

  “I wouldn’t think so. If he returns, I can share these results with him,” Dr. Avelyn said.

  Creed’s cell phone started to ring. He checked the time as he looked at the caller ID. It was awfully early for a call from the Santa Rosa County medical examiner.

  “Dr. Emmet.”

  “Ryder, it’s not my place to be calling you, but I can’t get ahold of Sheriff Wylie. They told me he went fishing. Left for his cabin the other day. He’s not even returning messages.”

  Creed knew the medical examiner. They had worked on many cases over the years, and even though Creed wasn’t a part of law enforcement, Dr. Emmet always extended him the courtesies as if he were one of them. He had even given Creed samples for training purposes—unclaimed teeth and bone, sometimes bloody clothing that the victim’s family had declined.

  “Is this about Izzy Donner? I haven’t talked to Wylie since we found her body.”

  “You didn’t touch her, did you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “How about your dog?”

  “Neither of us touched the body.” Creed saw Dr. Avelyn and Hannah stop. Both women were staring at him.

  “She didn’t drown.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “No water in her lungs, but there was a lot of hemorrhaging. I didn’t think too much about it when I did the autopsy. There was petechial hemorrhage. You know what that is, right?”

  Before Creed could answer, Emmet continued, “It usually occurs when blood leaks from the tiny capillaries in the eyes. They rupture when there’s increased pressure on the veins in the head when a person’s airways are being obstructed. Lack of oxygen sometimes can cause hemorrhaging in the lungs too, but this girl’s lungs looked messed up. She was sick—very sick—before she ended up in the river.”

  “Let me guess,” Creed said. “She may have had a deadly virus.”

 
; “I don’t know. I didn’t get a chance to find out, but Agent Tabor said she may have had a new strain of the bird flu.”

  “Tabor called you?”

  “He was here. They took the girl’s body late yesterday, stormed the place with what looked like a SWAT team. Assholes scared the crap out my staff. He had us locked up here. Had his own medical team poking us, taking blood and saliva samples. They finally cleared us about three this morning. I’m concerned about Wylie. Do you know how to contact him? I understand he helped fish her out of the water.”

  “But how did she end up in the river? Could she have walked that far if she was so sick?”

  “Oh, I’m sure someone put her there. Probably the same person who killed her.”

  “Killed her? You mean she didn’t die from the virus?”

  “Sorry, I wasn’t more clear. The petechial hemorrhage in her eyes wasn’t from drowning. Based on bruising around the neck, I’m almost certain she was strangled to death.”

  25

  NEW YORK CITY

  Christina had spent the night tossing and turning. By the time she got back to her hotel room she had been exhausted, weak, burning up with fever, and shivering uncontrollably.

  She had done exactly what the man had asked and had not even put her hand in her pocket to feel what he had left there. It wasn’t until she was safely inside her hotel room that she rushed to turn on all the lights. And then she had sat very quietly, rubbing her shoulders, waiting for the courage.

  His words raced in her mind. Was he friend or foe? Certainly he wasn’t one of the watchers if he didn’t want anyone to see them talking together. And yet he seemed to know everything.

  Most troubling was when he told her to make sure this item was on her at all times.

  When you’re done, it’s important the authorities find it on your body.

  The authorities. Not her handlers. Not the watchers.

  Maybe she had misunderstood him. But her mind was still sharp enough to remember his words exactly even though she didn’t want to accept what they meant. He spoke of her death as if it were imminent. But her handlers had told Christina that the watchers were there to help her carry out her mission. They had injected her with a virus. She knew that. She allowed that. She knew she was supposed to spread the germs to as many people as she could.

  She was told that it was a test, an experiment just like the other tests and experiments that she had volunteered for at the research facility in North Carolina. Each time she had been rewarded and paid well. Sure, some of the tests left her feeling disoriented, even nauseated, for several days after, but she had always been okay. Twice they had even provided a serum to help make her feel better afterward. So why was this man talking as if he expected her death?

  And the object he had slipped into her pocket only added to the confusion.

  The whole incident along with the fever had brought her strange dreams; some of them felt like hallucinations. At times she couldn’t tell whether she was asleep or awake. She kept a lamp on, hoping it would help. It did not. It only added to her mind’s confusion.

  Her bedsheets were drenched with sweat. Finally, she had gotten up and wrapped herself in the luxurious soft robe that the hotel provided and tried to sleep in the chair instead of the bed. She was awake when she heard the rustle at the door. When the piece of paper slid underneath, she startled to her feet. On tiptoe she raced to the door, smashing her eye against the peephole. All she saw was a blurred thin figure hurrying away.

  Christina carefully picked up the folded piece of paper and carried it to the chair. Right now she had no interest in looking at what instructions the watchers had for her day.

  Without unfolding it she placed it next to the item the man had slipped into her pocket. The small flash drive was useless to her. Without a computer she couldn’t even look to see what was so important that it needed to be found on her dead body.

  26

  OMAHA, NEBRASKA

  Instead of Pensacola, O’Dell booked a flight to Omaha. Before she left she spent the morning tracking down the biologist she had seen on the newscast the night before. She called Platt about her plans only when she was getting ready to board, leaving him little time to talk her out of it or try to convince her this was a wild-goose chase. Besides, he had his hands full, and she asked him to fill her in on the CDC’s progress.

  Roger Bix’s staff had spent the last thirty-six hours with Chicago hospital personnel and checking with urgent care facilities. Platt told her that Bix was reporting a total of seventy-three people in the Chicago area who might have come in contact with Tony Briggs and were now sick. They were in the process of testing them for the virus. But Platt admitted it was early and most people might not seek medical help until the more severe symptoms hit. They were expecting that number to rise in the next several days, especially after they tracked down the passengers who were on both flights Briggs had taken, one from Pensacola and the other from Atlanta.

  O’Dell’s flight from Chicago to Omaha was short but bumpy. She was relieved that the biologist from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service was able to meet her and even offered to pick her up from the airport.

  Amee Rief wore blue jeans, a bright yellow ski jacket, and stylish hiking boots. O’Dell was surprised. On television Rief had been dressed in a pea-green jacket with a patch on the sleeve that identified her department.

  Rief seemed to notice and smiled as she said, “Off camera I like to go rogue.”

  O’Dell had decided she liked the woman before she met her, recognizing even on the phone that she was sincere and genuine in wanting to do the right thing. Though she was the department’s spokesperson and investigator on this case—and O’Dell knew she was doing her best to keep the media and locals from panicking—Rief had not tried to hide any of the details from her. Coming from a federal employee, O’Dell found it refreshing.

  It took almost two hours to drive from the airport to the lake. By the time they arrived they had only a few hours before dusk. During the drive Rief pointed out a huge flock of snow geese in the distance. O’Dell couldn’t help thinking the sky looked like a snowstorm of birds. Their white wings glittered in the sunlight.

  “So not all of them have been affected.”

  “So far I’ve only found dead geese on this one lake. I’ve taken water samples to check for any chemical leaks or pesticides. But the other flocks appear to be okay. Millions of snow geese stop here to feed before they head up to their breeding grounds,” Rief explained. “They’re not the only migratory bird to choose the Platte River Valley. Lots of them come through here along the Platte and the Missouri. In a few more weeks we’ll start to see sandhill cranes.”

  “They’re gorgeous,” O’Dell said, mesmerized by the sight of them, a thick wave rising and lowering, their movement as smooth as water in the sky.

  “Pairs mate for life,” Rief continued. “They’ll have two to six chicks. Families stay together through the young one’s first winter. About a hundred years ago they were almost extinct, but populations are thriving again. So much so, they’re back on the hunting list. Sometimes overpopulation of a particular waterfowl can be a problem. But we haven’t seen much disease. Until now.”

  “Is that what you’re thinking, or do you already know?”

  “We don’t have any results back yet, but I’ve never seen anything like this. Migratory waterfowl have always been suspected carriers of bird flu, but they don’t usually get sick themselves.”

  O’Dell had told the biologist that they suspected a new strain. She needed Rief’s expertise. She hoped she hadn’t misjudged the woman by confiding in her. Besides, how could she in good conscience not share what she knew when Rief and her colleagues would be processing and disposing of thousands of dead snow geese in the weeks to come? They needed to know that they might be at risk.

  “You know, we’ve all anticipated for some time
now that the bird flu would hit the United States,” Rief said. “It was just a matter of time. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but when it did show up—that first case in Washington State in the fall of 2013—it didn’t resemble the Asian strain or the one that they were seeing in Europe.”

  “I’ve been told it mutates easily.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t just that it might have mutated,” Rief told her. “We wondered if it didn’t resemble the others because it was leaked from one of our own research labs.”

  27

  FLORIDA PANHANDLE

  The rain had finally stopped by the time Creed found the dirt path. His tires skidded on the red clay. He slowed down and let the four-wheel drive do its job.

  A glance in the rearview mirror assured him that Grace was unfazed by the continued rumble of thunder. It seemed to grow louder as they advanced up the hill. The seats in the back of his Jeep were laid flat to accommodate her kennel and their gear. She stood in the middle so she could see in between the front seats, as though she were helping him navigate.

  The Jack Russell knew they had brought her working gear, so she was ready to work. But Creed hoped they’d find Sheriff Wylie fishing in between cloudbursts. Maybe he would have some answers about Izzy Donner.

  Creed remembered how desperate the old sheriff had been to find the young woman, despite sticking to the story that she had simply wandered off. It wasn’t like Wylie to leave without even checking with Dr. Emmet to see what had happened to Donner. Creed remembered during the search for the young woman how Wylie and Tabor seemed to know more than they were telling. And now Creed suspected that Wylie might know exactly what the hell was going on.

  It could even be the reason the sheriff had taken off. If not to hide, then to get away for a while.

  The small cabin was nestled deep in a forest of longleaf pines. The thick trunks with patches of green shot well above the roof, and the wood of the cabin blended in. On this dark, dreary day, it’d be easy to miss the cabin entirely and continue up the dirt path that fishermen used as a road.