Lost Creed

by Alex Kava

  Sheriff Timmons joined them, and Lucy Coy greeted the troopers by name then introduced them to the sheriff, Creed and Maggie. Gregory was big, square shouldered, square jaw and a notch in the bridge of his nose that made him look like an ex-boxer. Vegaz had a shorter, more compact body.

  “Both of these young men were in my forensic workshop last week.”

  Lucy offered it as an explanation of how she knew them, but it made Creed take a closer look at the two men. He wanted to ask if it was an advanced forensics workshop. Surely, they wouldn’t have rookie patrolmen escorting a prisoner.

  Maggie didn’t seem to notice, or perhaps care. She was anxious to get started, and Creed could see that she had been studying Eli Dunn from the moment the man stumbled out of the back of the SUV. The fascination appeared to go both ways, because Dunn hadn’t taken his eyes off Maggie, except to shoot a worried look at Grace every once in awhile.

  It wasn’t just a guarded or cautious glance or even a look of interest. It was more like he didn’t trust the dog. Dunn was wary of Grace. Maybe he was even afraid of her. It probably didn’t help matters that Grace hadn’t stopped growling at him since he arrived.

  Emotion runs down the leash.

  Creed tightened his grip on Grace’s leash, but he didn’t ask her to quiet down. Instead, he let her voice his own opinion of the man.

  In no time and with very little prompting, Dunn was pointing and gesturing to places on the lake, especially close to the submerged trees. He seemed anxious to share what he knew, though he kept prefacing certain points by saying none of this meant he had a thing to do with the death.

  “Keep in mind, I was simply the undertaker,” he said with a grin that didn’t belong with that sentence.

  “How long ago?” Maggie wanted to know.

  “Oh, this one’s pretty fresh,” Dunn said as if he were a waiter talking about the fish specials for the day. “Let’s see.” He stared off, trying to remember. “Maybe the first or second week of February.” Then he looked to Maggie. “You got that notebook? The date would be in there. It’s upside down and printed backwards.” He smiled at her, again, like he had revealed a secret and expected a reward. “But don’t go thinking all of them are like that.”

  He wanted to make sure they knew he hadn’t disclosed his entire coding system. Maybe the guy wasn’t as stupid as he appeared to be.

  “You anchored her down.” Maggie said it as fact, not a question.

  “Oh, she’s not coming up anytime soon.”

  Not even fifteen minutes had gone by, and Creed wanted to punch that grin off Eli Dunn’s face.

  “No way you’d ever find her without me,” he added.

  “I think Mr. Creed’s dog would eventually find her,” Maggie told him, and Creed was surprised that she sounded like she was goading the man.

  “That scrawny mutt?” Dunn said, and he looked down at Grace trying not to show his discomfort, but Creed had already seen it.

  This time, Grace bared her teeth at Dunn. Creed could see the man’s eyes flash, but it wasn’t fear. It was anger. Creed caught a glimpse of Dunn’s fingers balling into fists.

  “Come on, Grace,” he told the dog then to Maggie, he said, “We’ll meet you at the boat.”

  He’d had enough of this guy. He needed to focus and calm down his dog. But he’d need to calm himself down, first.

  Chapter 39

  “Lucy said this lake hasn’t been here long,” Maggie told Creed. “I’m hoping that means less debris for you.”

  Creed had placed Grace on the seat next to him while Maggie guided the boat toward the trees. The trolling motor hummed quietly enough that she could hear the water lapping against the sides of the boat.

  “It’s over an old creek bed, right?” he asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Sediment can churn up pretty easily. Too bad Sheriff Timmons didn’t get us a boat with sonar.”

  Maggie glanced around the interior of the boat. She hadn’t even thought to ask, and now she wondered if they should have waited. Why was she in such a hurry?

  But she knew exactly why. Because at any moment she expected Eli Dunn to wise up and shut up.

  Here on the water, she realized how immense an undertaking this was, even with Dunn pointing out the location. Bodies could move with the current. Even bodies anchored down. Once tissues and organs started breaking down, gases of decomposition could churn a dead body into a floater. But that obviously hadn’t happened in the last eight months.

  That was another thing. Maggie didn’t like the smirk on Dunn’s face or how cocksure he was that he’d secured the body. Right now, she wasn’t sure if part of his game was sending them on a wild goose chase. What if there wasn’t even a body?

  She guided the boat along making a wide circle around the section Dunn had pinpointed. They’d been on the water for several minutes when Creed gestured to her.

  “Slow down a little,” he said. “Stop before we get close to the trees.”

  “Are you worried I’ll run into them?” She was trying to lighten the mood, but Creed’s first concern was always his dogs, and once he started a search there was no joking around.

  “The current is moving toward us. That means the scent will be moving toward us. I want to give Grace a chance to find the scent cone.”

  He kept his hand on Grace’s back. Grace had moved to the edge of the boat. It looked like she wanted to put her front paws up on the side, but Creed was restraining her. Already her nose moved from side to side, testing the air. Her ears flapped in the breeze.

  “Eight months in the water. Does that make it easier or more difficult for Grace?” Maggie asked.

  Grace looked back at the sound of her name, and Maggie wanted to kick herself. There was a reason Creed liked to be alone with his dogs when he did searches. But he didn’t admonish her. Instead, he slid over and dipped his fingertips into the water while he kept a firm grip of Grace’s vest with his other hand.

  “From what Lucy said, I’m guessing this water stays cold most of the year. There might not be much decomp.” He scooped up water in the palm of his hand and held it for Grace to sniff.

  “Maybe we should wait for a boat with sonar,” Maggie told him, trying not to expose all of the second-guessing she was doing.

  “Don’t worry about it. We’re already here.”

  But when she looked up, she caught him studying her.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “Nothing, really.”

  “You think he’s screwing with us?” As he asked the question his eyes slipped past her to the shore.

  He was facing the boat ramp, and could see the group watching them. Maggie refused to glance back and give Dunn the benefit of knowing she was having doubts.

  “It’s crossed my mind,” she said. “He’s already lying about not having anything to do with their deaths.”

  “You don’t believe he’s just the undertaker?” he asked, using Dunn’s self-proclaimed role.

  “Not in a million years.”

  “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.” He gestured toward Grace. Her whiskers were twitching, and she was snorting in quick breaths.

  Chapter 40

  Creed clicked on the dive torch he had strapped to his right forearm as he glanced at his dive watch. Not even ten feet down, and it was like swimming through a murky green fog. He could make out the shapes of the tree trunks, a fascinating underwater forest. Skeletal arms with crooked fingers reached out to him. He stayed far enough away to avoid getting tangled in the spider webs of discarded fishing line he could see snagged on leafless branches.

  He focused on the trees, shooting the beam of light in that direction. It made sense that Eli Dunn would want to use the trunks as an anchor system. But Creed couldn’t see any ropes or bungee cords. No sign of any large object caught or wedged in betwee
n the trees.

  He adjusted his mouthpiece. He’d tested all his gear when he’d first gotten into the water, but now it felt like there was drag in the line. Probably nothing. He checked his dive watch again.

  He pushed farther away from the trees and started to dive deeper still sweeping his light down and across the tree line. Creed was so focused on the algae-covered branches and anything else that might be attached or strung around them, that when he noticed the object in his peripheral vision, it made him jerk around.

  To his left, almost behind him, was a shadowy hulk. At first glance, Creed thought it was a sunken boat. Then he saw what looked like a bumper. His torch caught a glint off a side window. Buried in the sludge was a tire. The vehicle itself was covered in a blanket of green. Slowly, he swiped the stream of light over the crusted surface.

  He double-checked his coordinates. He was still directly below the boat. He calculated in his mind the distance from the shoreline.

  It was too far. No way a vehicle could have driven into the lake and ended up this far away from the shore. Even if it was driving at a high speed and catapulted off the boat ramp. Maybe it could have floated out a bit before sinking.

  Okay, that was possible.

  The front window on the driver side was gone or maybe it had been open when the car started to sink. Someone trying to escape.

  Breathing was becoming more and more difficult. He tried to check his hoses. No kinks. The pressure gauge didn’t register anything unusual and yet, he felt like he was struggling to pull in a regular breath. He found the knob on his regulator and made an adjustment, but it didn’t seem to make a difference.

  Still, he decided to search the inside of the car. He prepared himself before he took a look.

  He shot the light inside but couldn’t see a body. Seatbelts dangled. Sediment had settled over the seats and dashboard. He couldn’t estimate how long this vehicle had been down here. Maybe it was even here when they flooded the area and made it into a reservoir.

  But then Creed remembered the drawing in Eli Dunn’s notebook. They’d commented that it looked like the stick figure was anchored down with a circular object. A circle that could be the steering wheel or tire of a car.

  Creed sucked hard, and his fingers grabbed at the regulator’s adjustment knob. He turned it all the way open and back a quarter so the spring would be at its least compressed point. There was no change in the airflow. He needed to head back to the surface soon. His tank registered enough air, but he was struggling. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe. There was one more thing he needed to check.

  Creed pulled himself close to the driver’s door and made sure no broken metal would bump him or his gear. He reached his right hand inside, letting the light of the torch guide his gloved fingers. With the torch strapped to his forearm he could point with his hand and there was light. He began tapping the dashboard, feeling for buttons or a lever. Finally he hit something and heard a muffled pop.

  Creed made his way to the back of the vehicle. The lever had released the trunk. He slipped his fingers under the lip, but it still wouldn’t open. Closer to the middle, he could feel the latch holding, and his fingers worked it loose.

  It took some effort to lift the trunk against the water pressure and the unyielding hinges. He shoved it open but his hands held on to the lid, so the torch beam shot upward. Before he could bring his arm and the light down, a large object came floating out of the trunk. It hit him square in the chest.

  His arms swung to push it away but the movement also sent his only light whipping around. Yet, the object kept pushing against him. With one hand he grabbed hold of what looked like black plastic. With his other arm he steadied the torch.

  The next thing Creed saw was the bloated face of a woman who could be his sister.

  Chapter 41

  Maggie held on to Grace’s vest, gripping the security handle just like Creed had instructed. Both she and Grace stared at the surface where they’d last seen him before he went underwater. Neither of them dared look away.

  It felt like he was down there a long time. Too long.

  When she finally saw bubbles coming to the surface she breathed a sigh of relief. But then she noticed Grace’s ears pinned back to the sides of her head. The dog was trembling. And Maggie felt her insides clench. She tightened her grip on Grace and leaned farther over the edge.

  The object that bobbed to the surface was not Creed. It looked like a bloated garbage bag. But then she saw the tentacles of long hair and the bone-white patches of skin.

  “It’s okay, Grace,” she reassured the dog who was now squirming trying to get a better look over the side of the boat. But Grace wasn’t interested in what had floated to the surface. The dog was still looking for her owner.

  Maggie found a grappling hook tucked under the bench and gently tossed it, snagging the plastic and keeping it from floating away. She tied it down all the while scanning the surface of the lake.

  “Where is he, Grace?”

  With every second Maggie’s pulse accelerated.

  Why hadn’t he surfaced yet? Something was wrong.

  “Come on, Ryder. Where the hell are you?”

  Grace was getting more and more anxious, too. She showed no interest in the body floating next to their boat even though it was the scent she had been asked to find. Instead, she was shifting her front paws, tap-tap-tapping impatiently. Her eyes searched the water, and the more unsettled Grace became, the more panicked Maggie grew.

  Her cell phone rang, and she jumped. Still hanging on to Grace, Maggie pulled the phone out, only to silence it, but then saw it was Lucy.

  “What’s going on?” Lucy wanted to know.

  “Something’s wrong!”

  “Is he hurt? I thought I saw someone surface.”

  Maggie twisted in her seat to look back at the shore.

  “Get Dunn the hell away from here,” she told Lucy. “He doesn’t get to see this.”

  She waited and watched as Lucy approached the troopers, gesturing and talking to them. Immediately, the men turned Eli Dunn around and marched him back to the SUV.

  Suddenly, she felt Grace nudging her arm. The dog tucked and pushed so forcefully, she shoved Maggie’s phone hand away from her face. Grace was panting now. Maggie shut off the phone and dropped it into her pocket. She hugged Grace close to her chest and rested her chin on the dog’s head.

  Maggie contemplated jumping in. Would she be able to even see him? Why the hell didn’t they have a backup plan?

  Her heart pounded so hard against her ribcage it hurt to breathe. Grace wiggled free and darted to the other side of the boat. Maggie lunged for her, and the boat rocked enough to flip her stomach. There was a splash, and she half expected to find that Grace had fallen over the side. But instead, the little dog stood on her hind legs with her paws leaning on the edge. Her tail whipped back and forth.

  That’s when Creed came crashing to the surface, gulping for air.

  Chapter 42

  Hunting for the kitten made Charlotte realize she had a whole house to explore. At least, until they came to take her away.

  She found women's clothing in the bedroom closet and dresser. Whoever lived in this house must have left so suddenly she hadn’t been able to take anything with her. There was a whole drawer of underwear. She opened another and found it filled with socks. She sat down on the bed and simply stared.

  The pants were too short and the waistband too big, but she found a belt. It felt strange to have sleeves wrapped around her arms, but the material was soft. And the socks were such a luxury. She tried on a pair of shoes, but found them too painful to wear. She padded across the floor going from one room to the next.

  It was a small house. The two rooms in the center were connected with a large archway, so they really appeared to be one big room. Other than the bedroom, there was the kitchen, a small
pantry and the bathroom. Compared to the cramped spaces or the damp basement Charlotte was used to, this was a mansion.

  In some ways, it was overwhelming. She felt uneasy not being able to keep an eye on both the front door and the back at the same time. But there was something comforting in having the kitten now following her everywhere. Charlotte wanted to believe it was bonding with her, but she suspected it was simply hungry, again.

  She was careful about what she ate this time, choosing a banana and peanut butter. She opened a can of tuna for the kitten.

  “I need to call you something other than kitten,” she said out loud. The cat didn’t bother to look up from its can.

  It was a female and was mostly dark gray with white mixed in, but from the tip of her chin and all the way across her belly, she was pure white. So was the tip of her tail. It looked like she had dipped it in paint.

  Charlotte paced the rooms, again. She wanted to say she was investigating but it felt more like she was on patrol. She wandered through the Christmas decorations when she saw the stack of magazines she had knocked over in her frenzy to find the kitten. She gathered them up carefully, brushing the dust off and taking in the covers. She flipped through some of the pages, eager to read, though all the dust made her eyes water. That’s when she noticed several pieces of paper that had fallen to the floor.

  When she saw the handwriting, Charlotte thought she had stumbled upon a personal letter of the woman who’d lived here. The woman who had decorated her entire house for Christmas and had to leave suddenly. She was anxious to see what the woman might have to say.