LOST CREED: (Book 4 Ryder Creed series)

by Alex Kava

Pakula was thinking about what T-Rock had told him. That Eli Dunn had a “type” that he liked. Long brown hair was one of the details.

  He listened and let Konnor talk. The kid didn’t remember anyone’s name. He said they weren’t allowed to use names or even really talk to each other. Sometimes there were others that came. Once there was another boy, but he didn’t last long.

  “He made Eli mad and the next day he was gone.”

  That was all Konnor said about the boy.

  Pakula wanted more details about the “fix-ups.” That’s what Konnor called them, but he saw that the boy was terribly uncomfortable even mentioning them or the men. When Pakula asked if he might recognize some of them, Konnor told him that he mostly closed his eyes.

  But then he started telling Pakula about the hotel. Once a month. The same hotel. The fourth Monday of every month.

  How did he know what day, Pakula wanted to know. Most of these kids were kept in the dark about what day of the week it was.

  “I heard Eli say once. And then I tried to keep track.” Konnor hung his head, his chin tucked against his chest. He went quiet for so long Pakula worried that he shouldn’t have questioned the boy.

  “I stole a calendar,” Konnor finally admitted. He looked up and smiled when he said, “I was hoping that some months didn’t have four Mondays.” The smile slid off his face, and he dropped his head again. This time when he went silent, he was finished.

  No more memories for today.

  Chapter 55

  Nebraska

  Creed wondered if Maggie was putting too much stock in Eli Dunn’s scribbles.

  “I’m trying to find which one of these drawings is today’s site. He was so proud of how he drove that car onto the frozen lake, and yet this time,” Maggie said, “he shrugs like he has no idea where the gravesite is. Like there are so many bodies he can’t possibly remember them all. I keep looking at how many drawings he has in here. If each one is a burial site, there could be dozens.”

  “You want to know what I think?”

  “Yes, of course.” She turned to face him, as much as the seatbelt would allow.

  “I don’t think this is playing out the way he hoped.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have you noticed the way he looks at Grace? I don’t think he expected a K9 to come along on his scavenger hunt.”

  He glanced at her and could see she hadn’t given it any thought before.

  “He gives minimal information each time. Insists that we don’t even get to know where we’re headed until late the night before.” He checked on Grace and in the rearview mirror he saw she was watching him with her ears pinned back. He knew she didn’t like the drumming of the rain above her and the flashes of lightning. “It’s okay, Grace. Go ahead and lie down.”

  Maggie readjusted and reached back to pet the dog.

  “I’ve been expecting him to ask about your connection,” Maggie said. “I saw him craning his neck to get a look at your Florida license plate. I thought perhaps it was you that put him on edge. I never considered it might be because we brought along a scent detection dog.”

  “Earlier when he pretended he couldn’t narrow the search, he raised his wrists like he was suggesting he might remember more without the handcuffs.”

  “I did notice that. It’s all a part of the game. From the beginning he’s been playing let’s make a deal.”

  “I get that. But if you didn’t have Grace or another K9, would you be indulging him? Maybe a little bit? This is sort of out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “I can’t imagine doing this search without a dog, but I suppose if one wasn’t available immediately . . . I’m not sure. I think I would have still waited.”

  “You were in a hurry because of Brodie,” he said and his eyes met hers briefly, just long enough to see a flash of emotion, before he looked back to the windshield and the curtain of rain.

  “It’s not just Brodie,” she said. “It’s not just the others Dunn may have murdered. Although I must admit you’ve taught me how important finding the remains can be for the families to recover, to move forward. Pakula and I believe there are other kids who are still alive. There were others in his house right before the raid. He had to have moved them. Or someone else did it for him.

  “I keep hoping Dunn will slip. Maybe get cocky and inadvertently give us something, anything that will help us find them.” She held up the notebook. “I keep looking for a clue. Some place he hides them. But I’m beginning to think this was only meant to be part of his game. A bargaining chip in case he got caught.”

  It was sprinkling by the time Creed’s Jeep pulled into David City. The sky was still dark but the clouds with thunder and lightning had moved to the north. With nothing to obstruct the view, Creed could see them rolling and churning away with white streaks of down-pouring rain beneath them.

  On the GPS’s list of available fast food, restaurants and cafés, Maggie recognized a place called Runza on 4th Street. Turned out that Highway 15, the route they were on, was actually 4th Street. It didn’t take long to find the green awning amongst a row of brick buildings along the street.

  “The last time I was in Nebraska,” Maggie told him, “a wildlife biologist named Amee Rief introduced me to a Runza. They have burgers, fries, chili—even cinnamon rolls—but their signature sandwich is a bread roll stuffed with beef and cabbage.”

  He dropped her off at the front door so he could put in gas across the street.

  “What would you like me to get for you?” she asked.

  “All of it sounds good.”

  “A Runza, fries, chili, cinnamon roll?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Which?”

  “All of what you just said.”

  She smiled at him as she closed the Jeep’s door, and if Creed had resolved in his mind to set aside all the physical attraction and feelings he had for her, that smile just dismantled all his resolve.

  As soon as he stepped out of the vehicle he noticed the storm had reduced the temperature significantly. According to The First National Bank’s digital sign, it was fifty-two degrees. It had been in the seventies earlier.

  He filled up the gas tank and went inside the small convenience store. Earlier he’d noticed some of the wounds Dr. Avelyn had so patiently and expertly patched up were weeping through the bandages. It looked like this place had a little bit of everything.

  “Can I help you find something?” the clerk behind the counter asked.

  “I need some bandages. Basic ones are fine. Doesn’t need to be pretty.” He smiled and showed her the dirty gauze wrapped around his forearm.

  “We have a whole section of ‘it doesn’t need to be pretty.’ Next aisle over.”

  He glanced at her nametag. “Thanks, Danine.”

  He found what he needed, grabbed a couple bottles of water and was headed for the cash register when the newsstand by the door caught his eye. Newspapers, let alone newsstands, were a rarity, but it was the front-page photo that drew his attention. He recognized Sheriff Timmons even without the man’s signature ball cap and dressed in a suit. He had his arm wrapped around a woman. The headline read, CHARITY BALL TO BENEFIT VICTIMS. Maybe Creed was wrong about Timmons. It looked like he might be one of the good guys who practiced what he preached.

  Creed added one of the newspapers to the rest of the items he put on the counter.

  “You know Sheriff Timmons?” he asked Danine.

  “Oh yeah. Butler County Justice Center is just up the street. Sad news about his wife.”

  “I didn’t hear about her.”

  “Just found out she has MS. Both of them were planning on retiring next year. They were going to do some traveling. Her illness will certainly change that. Where in Florida are you and your wife from?”

  She caught Creed by surprise. But with a glance,
he noticed she had a perfect view of the street, along with the back of his Jeep. She was sharp and quick. Both were probably a necessity for the job.

  “The Panhandle,” he told her. “Just outside of Milton and Pensacola.”

  “I love those beaches. Sugar white sands.”

  “You’ve been there?”

  “It’s been too many years. You’re lucky to live in such a gorgeous place.”

  But Creed realized he couldn’t remember how long ago he’d taken a walk on Pensacola Beach. He vowed to fix that as soon as he got back.

  Danine finished bagging up his purchases then took a couple of dog biscuits from a container beside the register. “For your cute dog.”

  He realized she didn’t miss a thing. He wanted to ask more about Timmons, but two more customers came in. He thanked her and left. As he drove back around to pick up Maggie he took a good look at the town, at the businesses, the justice center, the neat and clean streets. Cars and pickups parked orderly at just the right angles. There was no litter, no trash. People went about their business, not deterred by the thunderstorm and not a single umbrella in sight.

  And yet, less than a dozen miles away, Eli Dunn may have buried several bodies in their pastures and fields. Creed wondered what other secrets were buried out here that no one knew about.

  Chapter 56

  Santa Rosa County, Florida

  Mrs. Woodson greeted Sheriff Norwich, but she wasn’t pleased to see Jason and Scout, again.

  “I thought your dog didn’t find anything?” she asked, standing in the doorway and not moving to invite them inside.

  “We wanted to check on one last thing,” the sheriff told her. “May we come in?”

  She stepped aside but she didn’t take her eyes off of Scout.

  And why would she? Scout was dancing with too much energy, with barely enough patience to stand around beside Jason for these boring formalities. After all, he’d been cooped up inside the back of the SUV while Jason had breakfast. The open sunroof only made it worse with smells of bacon coming from the diner. Sheriff Norwich had offered her leftovers without Jason asking for them, and Scout had slurped them down in two grateful bites. But now, he was ready to go.

  He recognized the house and the smells. Jason wondered if Scout believed they’d returned simply to go for another walk on the trails behind the house.

  “I don’t know why you keep bringing that dog,” Mrs. Woodson said to Sheriff Norwich. “I don’t like him poking around my daughter’s things.”

  “We’re only trying to help find her,” the sheriff said. “You mind if we check the backyard again?”

  Jason hadn’t shared anything with Norwich, other than he wanted to see one more time where Scout would lead him.

  “Trust your dog,” Creed had told him. He’d also said that Scout’s alerts were some of the most honest of all their dogs. Creed had saved him when he was just a puppy, so Scout had never had to worry about going hungry.

  All this time, Jason thought he’d screwed up. He thought maybe he hadn’t trained Scout properly. What if he had confused the dog by giving him food as a reward? Creed liked to share the very real story about a K9 rescue team that alerted to an area after a massive mudslide in Washington. Crews brought in earth-moving equipment to remove debris, and rescuers worked for hours believing the dog had alerted to victims trapped under the mud. At the worst, they expected to find bodies. They never expected to find, instead, a refrigerator filled with rotting food. And all because the handler had used food as a training reward.

  Scout loved food as much as Jason did, but Creed was right. Food was never an issue. Scout loved playing with his rope toy. And he loved doing the searches and pleasing Jason. But did he want to please Jason too much? They were about to find out.

  He didn’t mind that Mrs. Woodson followed them out into the yard. Inside Jason’s daypack he had brought along a tool he thought they might need if the sheriff agreed with him. Three steps out the back door of the house, and Scout was already leading Jason to the shed at the corner of the property.

  “This is ridiculous,” he heard Mrs. Woodson say.

  Scout pawed at the shed’s door and Jason opened it. Immediately, the dog raced to the battered old freezer that filled the space with its electrical hum.

  “Do you have a key for this padlock?” Jason asked.

  “Key? I told you there’s just a bunch of frozen fish my ex-husband left. I have someone coming next week to haul this old eyesore away to the dump.”

  “Do you have a key?” Sheriff Norwich asked.

  “Of course, I don’t have a key. I made him put a padlock on it so the neighbor kids don’t mess with it. He has the key. Ask him.”

  Jason wasn’t sure how long Mr. Woodson had been deployed to Afghanistan, but the padlock looked pretty new.

  “Is it okay if we open it?” Jason asked, but he was asking the sheriff.

  She met and held his eyes as one of her eyebrows raised, but she looked willing to play along. Keeping her tone as casual as Jason’s, Norwich asked Mrs. Woodson, “Do you mind if we take a look inside?”

  “Why in the world would you do that?”

  The woman was angry now. Her hands were twisting the hem of her knit shirt, and her eyes flashed at Jason when she saw him pull the tool from his daypack.

  “This won’t break the padlock,” Jason told her. “So we can lock it back up.”

  “Right,” Norwich said. “That way you don’t have to worry about the kids messing with it before you have it hauled away.”

  The lock popped in seconds. Jason glanced at the sheriff one last time, giving her a chance to stop him. She nodded. Then he shoved the lid open.

  Inside were dozens of packages wrapped in white butcher paper, but on top of them was the curled up body of a young girl dressed only in a pink nightshirt.

  Chapter 57

  Nebraska

  After the tarps were removed, Creed watched Lucy Coy. She brought out a worn duffle bag and started removing items—gloves, several different sized trowels and plastic basins. It looked more like she was planning on doing some gardening instead of digging up human remains. She kneeled in the mud in the area Creed had marked with the first two flags. The area where Grace had given what Creed considered a soft alert.

  He suspected, but didn’t say, that these sites may only yield bits and pieces or perhaps only blood. If Dunn had carried or dragged the body, and blood or body fluids escaped into the soil, it was possible Grace could detect the scent. Another possibility was if wildlife had scavenged the body after it had been buried.

  Maggie stayed close by Lucy’s side, assisting her like a nurse to a surgeon. The rest of them all watched from about fifteen feet away. Even Eli Dunn was allowed to be here despite needing help to stumble across the uneven pasture with his ankle shackles left in place.

  Creed understood what Maggie was hoping for, but he wasn’t happy about having the man this close. She wanted to watch Dunn and study every flinch or grin or blink of his eyes. As a profiler, he knew Maggie expected to gather information from his mannerisms, his gestures, his involuntary tells. Creed understood all this and yet, he hated that the man who may have murdered his sister would be able to witness them recovering her remains.

  It felt wrong. It felt like one last violation.

  Sheriff Timmons continued to let Maggie know he didn’t agree with this arrangement either.

  “He doesn’t deserve to be here. He should be—” He stopped mid-sentence when he saw Lucy’s fingers carefully pulling out, bit by bit, what looked like a bloody piece of fabric. Lucy waited with the item pinched between her forefinger and thumb while Maggie unfolded and opened an evidence bag.

  “I’ll be damned,” the sheriff muttered under his breath and took a step back as if he needed to compose himself.

  Creed wanted to see Dunn’s reaction, but h
e couldn’t look away from the bloody fabric.

  Usually he and Grace left the evidence gathering to the experts while they packed up their gear or waited until they were needed again. Most of the time, he’d take Grace off to the side and play fetch with her elephant. He glanced down to see if she was already feeling his dread. The dog was sitting behind him. His legs blocked her view of the gravesite, but it didn’t matter. She was no longer interested. Her body was turned, her head tilted as she watched a squirrel in a nearby tree. He was relieved to find that she knew her job was finished, despite still being on the leash. Now, she was simply being a dog.

  Lucy unearthed another piece of fabric, this one smaller. She shielded its identity, cupping her left hand between it and the men. Immediately, Creed suspected it was a pair of underwear. He tasted bile and swallowed hard.

  By the time Lucy was finished with the secondary sites, Creed had shoved aside his physical discomfort. One thing the Marines had taught him was how to refocus his mind and energy on the task at hand, no matter how uncomfortable he was. He needed to concentrate on the here and now.

  Lucy was more hesitant at the primary site. He heard her tell Maggie that she would start the process, but only to see if there was a body. If there were one buried here then she’d call in the Douglas County Crime Lab’s mobile unit.

  She gently brushed the crusted top layer with her gloved fingers. Slowly, she scooped small bits of dirt using only the tip of the garden trowel. Seconds into the undertaking, Lucy jerked her hand away.

  Even Maggie startled. “What’s wrong?”

  Despite the crumbles of black dirt, Creed could see the brown fur, matted and bloodied.

  “What the hell?” Sheriff Timmons asked as he shot a glance of disgust at Creed and Grace. “So all your dog found was a dead animal.”

  Chapter 58

  Maggie had been watching Eli Dunn when she saw Lucy jolt back. Before Creed could answer the sheriff’s accusation, Maggie put her hands up to calm everyone. She said to Timmons, “Scent detection dogs are trained to ignore dead animals.”