LOST CREED: (Book 4 Ryder Creed series)

by Alex Kava

  He needed to calm himself. He kept his fists under the table and out of sight. Another deep breath. Focus.

  “Just tell me about this guy. Whatever you know.”

  “From what I remember, he started out all vanilla. I don’t mean just white girls, but they all looked alike. It was creepy. Like he was trying to clone or repeat the same girl over and over. Same hair color and long, parted down the middle. All of their faces looked alike. They were the same weight and height and age. I didn’t want any of that weird crap.”

  “So he was trying to sell them?”

  “Oh, he always tried, after they got a little older. He wanted the ten-, eleven- and twelve-year-olds. By fourteen or fifteen, he was getting rid of them, like they aged out.” T-Rock rolled his eyes. “That’s when they’re just getting experienced. If you know what I mean. I know some guys like to keep their merchandise fresh. Low mileage, right? But this guy? It was strange. It was like he wanted to keep replacing that same ten- or eleven-year-old.”

  Pakula pulled the Polaroid out of the pocket inside his jacket. He slid it to the middle of the table.

  “Did he ever try to sell you this girl?”

  “Dude, that’s one badass photo. You don’t have anything better?”

  Pakula unfolded the computerized copy and placed it beside the photo.

  “She is definitely his type. But no, I can’t say that I’ve seen her at any age.”

  “You ever hear of him using an RV? Picking up kids at interstate rest stops?”

  “No, but that’s pretty damned smart.”

  Pakula hated that T-Rock looked like he had just given him a great idea.

  “Anyone hear him say where he keeps these girls?”

  “Of course, not. Dudes don’t share that kind of info.” Then he smiled at Pakula, but he sat back, signaling he was finished. Still, he couldn’t seem to help himself, and he added, “Can’t do that or before you know it, FBI’s knocking on the front door of your nice farmhouse.”

  Pakula bit back his curse. T-Rock knew a lot more than he was telling. Honor among thieves. They’d cover for each other no matter how much they disgusted each other. They were all a bunch of bastards.

  Chapter 47

  Florida Panhandle

  Jason had kept quiet the entire twenty-minute trip from the Woodson’s, and for some reason, Olivia was quiet, too. It was as if both of them were surprised by and disappointed in their failed attempts. Or at least, that’s what Jason thought.

  He pulled in front of Hannah’s expecting to let Olivia out and drive on to his trailer, but when he stopped, Olivia looked over at him and said, “Can you come in for some coffee?”

  “I really need to—”

  “Just for a few minutes.”

  He stared at her, trying to figure out if she was going to complain about him in front of Hannah. What else could it be? After all, she’d had more than “a few minutes” to talk to him during the drive back. As intimidating as the woman could be, he saw Creed’s eyes every time he looked into her face. So he simply nodded, parked and went around back to get Scout. He could hear Rufus, Lady and Hunter in the fenced yard behind the house, so he took Scout and let him in with the others before he followed Olivia into Hannah’s kitchen.

  As if it were her own house, Olivia went directly to the counter where the coffee pot was. She knew which cupboard to open to get two mugs.

  “Do you use cream or sugar?” she asked as she poured.

  “Sugar, no cream.”

  She gestured for him to sit and took the chair across from him. By now, Jason’s foot was tapping under the table, and his teeth were clenched. She set a mug in front of him. He took a gulp of the coffee, not even flinching when it scorched his throat.

  “Do you know Mrs. Woodson very well?” Olivia asked.

  “I only just met her yesterday.”

  “She’s lying about her daughter.”

  “Wait a minute, what?” It wasn’t at all what Jason expected her to say.

  “Dealing with media and publishing people over the years, I’ve developed what I like to call my bullshit-meter. In the hour and a half that I spent with that woman she was registering off the charts.”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you mean? You don’t think Raelyn is missing?”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt that poor girl’s missing, but her mother is lying about something.”

  “Why do you think she’s lying?”

  She sipped her coffee, but her eyes never left his. They were the same blue as Creed’s, not a fleck of green or hazel, but true blue. All Jason knew was they were difficult eyes to lie to. He knew that from personal experience.

  “She vacillated back and forth,” Olivia told him. “She’d say Raelyn disappeared. That someone must have taken her. Fifteen minutes later she told me the girl had run off before, and she’d probably run away this time.”

  “Sheriff Norwich said they were questioning Mrs. Woodson’s boyfriend.”

  “Where’s Mr. Woodson?”

  Jason shrugged. “She said they’re divorced. She didn’t tell you about her ex-husband?”

  “No, she didn’t. That’s odd. Why aren’t they questioning the father?”

  “I don’t know.” He glanced at his watch. He didn’t want to spend his afternoon gossiping about Mr. and Mrs. Woodson. He already felt bad enough that he had screwed up a second time with Scout. “We don’t ask those kinds of questions,” he said, when it looked like she was waiting for an explanation. “It’s better if we know less, so we don’t influence our dog with preconceived notions of what might have happened.”

  “That’s smart.” She nodded then stared off over his shoulder, out the window.

  “Maybe that’s what I was doing,” she said. “Maybe I expected her to act differently because of my own experience with losing my daughter. It’s such a horrible thing to happen to a mother.”

  He didn’t mean to be rude, but he also didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He scooted his chair away from the table, hoping to find an excuse to leave when he felt the weight in the back pocket of his jeans. He’d forgotten about the cell phone he’d found in Raelyn’s room.

  “What is it?” Olivia must have seen the realization on his face.

  Jason pulled the phone out and set it on the table between them.

  “I found it between the nightstand and the bed in Raelyn’s room.”

  “What teenage girl goes anywhere without her phone?”

  It was the same question Jason had asked himself.

  “Maybe she lost it. It was stashed pretty far back. I’m sure Sheriff Norwich will want to review her calls and messages. I better go call her.”

  He stood up and took his coffee mug to the sink to rinse. The coffee was making his stomach churn. He didn’t really like coffee, but it seemed impolite to say no when someone invited him in for a cup. Especially since it was hardly ever about the coffee.

  He glanced back at Olivia. She hadn’t moved and was still staring out the window. He slipped out, leaving her to her thoughts.

  Chapter 48

  “Olivia? Are you all right?”

  She had no idea how long Hannah had been standing there staring at her. Olivia’s hands were wrapped around the ceramic mug, but it looked like she hadn’t taken more than a sip. The mug was no longer hot. It was lukewarm at best. Her mind had gone not just miles away but to years past. Disappointingly, she could conjure up those weeks—the sights, the smells, the panic—with very little effort.

  Hannah sat down across the table from her. Her brow furrowed and her dark eyes narrowed with concern. Genuine concern. Why hadn’t Olivia been able to see any of that in Mrs. Woodson’s eyes?

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Hannah told her in a gentle voice.

  This was a woman with a big personality but an undeniable sense o
f compassion. She filled the room with warmth. It was comforting just being in her presence. Comforting and safe. And for Olivia James, who had spent years not needing anyone to make her feel safe, or needing anyone to confide in, she suddenly found herself wanting to unleash it all.

  “You must think I’m an awful mother,” Olivia finally said.

  “Why in the world would you say that?”

  “You never realize what you’re capable of doing until something awful happens,” Olivia said, ignoring Hannah’s question. Ever since she’d left the Woodson’s she was feeling a deep sense of darkness and a surprising bit of regret.

  “When Brodie disappeared I blamed her father. I was so angry with him. He should have never let her go alone to the bathroom at that busy rest stop. All because he wanted to listen to his precious football game.”

  She stared out the window, but she could feel Hannah’s eyes on her.

  “I blamed Ryder, too,” Olivia continued. Sitting with Mrs. Woodson had managed to bring it all back to her—all of it crashing down around her, despite years of trying to bundle up those emotions and stow them carefully away. “I was so upset that he hadn’t watched out for his little sister.” She shook her head. “But he was just a boy. His father deserved the blame. But not Ryder.”

  She looked at Hannah and asked, “He hasn’t told you about any of it, has he?”

  Hannah shook her head, but said nothing. This was a woman who knew how to listen.

  “I dragged him from city to city,” Olivia told her. “Pulled him out of school. Any tidbit, any morsel of information, and I’d pack us up. Sometimes I’d drive all night. When Ryder was old enough, he’d help drive. Each and every time I hoped and prayed that we’d find her. That she was still alive just waiting for us to rescue her.”

  She went quiet as she watched the branches swaying in the breeze. The sky couldn’t be bluer if it tried.

  “But God wasn’t listening to me. I gave up on God the day I had to give up on finding my little girl,” Olivia said it in such a whisper she wondered if Hannah could even hear her. She felt the woman’s hand reach across the table then take hers. “But I should have never given up on Ryder.”

  “Why did you?”

  She met Hannah’s eyes now and saw there was no judgment, only the question.

  “My emotions were still so raw. It truly felt like I had deep gashes that wouldn’t heal. I’d patch them up only to have them rip apart and bleed some more.” She shook her head, wanting to clear away the images. “Then his father committed suicide. Did you know about that?”

  “Yes. Rye told me he was the one who found him.”

  Olivia nodded, and her eyes darted back out the window.

  “It hadn’t been a week or two after that, and all of a sudden, he told me he was joining the Marines. I thought he was angry with me about his father. I thought maybe it was his way of lashing out at me. I told him I refused to lose another child.”

  She glanced back at Hannah, her vision blurred, and only then did she realize she was crying. She swiped at her eyes. “I told him I would never speak to him, again, if he joined the military.” She attempted a laugh that sounded shrill and fake and more like a cry for help. “I was nothing if I wasn’t true to my word.”

  Hannah continued to hold her hand, and now, she squeezed it.

  “I’m the reason Ryder hasn’t had a mother for almost ten years.”

  “You can fix that,” Hannah told her.

  “You really believe that?”

  “I know Rye. He has a big heart. I’m sure there’s room for you.”

  Olivia smiled and took back her hand, gently, so she could wipe away the tears. She took a deep breath and gathered herself. Then she asked, “Are you and Ryder . . . you know, are you two a couple?”

  Suddenly, Olivia could see Hannah sit up straight and her eyes flashed with an uncharacteristic spark, a hint of defiance, that Olivia hadn’t seen before.

  “Would that be a problem for you if we were?”

  Yes, Olivia was right. She had struck a nerve. The last thing she wanted to do was offend this woman who had been so kind to her.

  Olivia shrugged and tried to make light by saying, “It’s really none of my business. I was only thinking you might be a bit older than him.”

  Hannah stared at her then suddenly she did something that surprised Olivia. She burst into a melody of laughter. This time, Hannah wiped tears from her eyes and her chest was still heaving when she said, “I thought for sure you were going to say because I’m black.”

  Olivia smiled and shook her head. “Of course, that’s not what I meant all. I just want him to be happy.”

  “Ryder and I are family,” Hannah explained. “We depend on each other. We support each other. I suppose in some ways I’m a big sister to him.”

  “Believe it or not, I’ve tried to keep track of him as much as possible. He was in the news quite a bit a year ago. USA Today and even on Good Morning, America.”

  Hannah nodded. “And he hated it!”

  “Does he have a woman in his life?”

  “Oh, he has several.” And Hannah laughed, again. “In fact, I’ve had to ask him to stop letting them spend the night at his place. I can’t have my boys asking why there’s a woman they don’t know leaving Ryder’s apartment in the morning when they’re getting ready for school.”

  “But no one special?”

  “I don’t think he lets anyone get that close,” Hannah said, now serious. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s good to them. Your son is charming and sensitive and most likely, a gentleman. I’ve never heard any complaints, if you know what I mean. His closest relationships are with women, but I know he has a strict rule about not letting himself get involved with women he works with. You know who makes him happiest?”

  Olivia perked up to listen.

  “The dogs.” Hannah raised her hand as if she believed Olivia would pass judgment. “I know that might sound strange, but he loves each and every one of our dogs. When we built his apartment over the kennel, he pretended it was because he wanted to be close, so he could protect what he always calls our most important assets. Like he really believes those dogs are business assets. Too many times to count, I’ve found him down in the kennel curled up and sleeping with the dogs.

  “The fact is, that man feels happiest and the most comfortable when he’s in the company of dogs. And I doubt there’s a woman who’ll be able to change that.”

  Chapter 49

  Nebraska

  Earlier at the lake, Creed had loaded the dive tank into the back of his Jeep without anyone noticing. When he came to the surface gasping for air he let Maggie believe it was the shock of finding the body. She was already concerned about having him be a part of this search team. He didn’t want to give her another reason to tell him to go home.

  So he wrapped the tank in an old blanket and placed it into a separate duffle bag. He was convinced someone had tampered with it, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to prove it. In all the dives he had made as a civilian and as a Marine, he’d never had a problem with a tank. Maybe it had malfunctioned simply because of poor maintenance, but he wanted someone to take a look at it. Someone other than Sheriff Timmons who had arranged for the boat and the tank to be delivered to the lake.

  He kept thinking about the note Maggie had gotten the night before. If someone wanted Eli Dunn set free would they go so far as to tamper with the search equipment? And if so, how would that be possible?

  For Creed, it was easier to concentrate on a possible conspiracy to sidetrack the recovery effort than it was to keep remembering that woman’s startled face. He wished he could scrub that image from his mind. He could still feel the body bumping up against him. The plastic garbage bag, the confines of the car trunk and the cold lake had preserved her from the regular rigors of decomposition. She certainly didn’t look like she
had died eight months ago.

  And she didn’t look like Brodie. Blue eyes, not brown.

  He wasn’t sure why that was such a relief. Isn’t that why he was here? Because he believed he’d find her amongst the dead and finally have some sense of closure?

  He’d seen it happen for other families whose missing loved ones he’d helped find. A body, even if it was reduced to bones, brought an odd sense of peace. It allowed hope to be tucked away, instead of the rollercoaster ride of emotions when hope was the only thing you had left to cling to.

  And yet, as soon as he realized this woman couldn’t be Brodie, Creed had felt an enormous sense of relief. So much so, that he couldn’t imagine what he would feel if and when he found her remains.

  Now back at the Embassy Suites, Creed prepared Grace’s food and fed her. Then he put on her soft harness with the label: WORKING DOG. DO NOT PET. Grace knew this wasn’t a working harness. As a multi-task dog, Creed had her trained to know the difference. Grace could distinguish what he wanted her to search for by the type of vest, harness or leash he put on her as well as the word or phrase he used.

  But it wasn’t always that simple. Because she was trained for so many different scents, she couldn’t ignore one even if Creed had asked her specifically to find another. So Grace alerted to drugs if they were anywhere in the vicinity even if Creed hadn’t asked her to “find fish.” “Fish” was his search word for drugs.

  Recently, he’d started doing searches at nursing care facilities. The dogs were able to sniff out C. diff, a particularly nasty bacteria that could be fatal by the time any symptoms began to show up. To keep residents calm and not suspicious, Creed instructed his dogs to “find soup.” He used a special vest for explosives and for human remains. But it was still tricky with multi-task dogs like Grace. Every once in a while, she alerted to something or someone Creed hadn’t asked her to search out.

  But this vest told her to relax. She was off duty, and the dog pranced and wagged despite staying close to his heel. They made their way down the hall into the elevator and to the restaurant below. At the hostess stand, Creed prepared for an argument. Some places didn’t want dogs outside of the rooms, but the woman simply smiled at him and said, “They’re waiting for you.” She grabbed a menu and gestured for Creed and Grace to follow.