by Alex Kava
“I’ve heard good things about this place,” Creed said, breaking the silence.
Maggie didn’t tell him that he had already said that twice before.
“You sure I can’t get you something to eat?”
He shook his head. Then he added, “You don’t have to stay. I’m okay.”
“I’m not here for you. I’m here for Grace.”
She saw the corner of his mouth hitch up. It was the closest to a smile she’d seen since morning.
“She likes you,” he said.
“I like her. She’s not stubborn like her master.”
That garnered a full smile. “Don’t count on it. Hannah says all our dogs have a streak of my stubbornness.”
“Is Hannah your wife?” Maggie asked without thinking. Thankfully Creed didn’t seem to care.
“She’s my business partner.”
Maggie knew there was more to the relationship. She could tell by the way he had said Hannah’s name. She waited. But Creed didn’t offer anything else.
When she went in search of a vending machine she had checked in with Tully. He was still back at the ravine. Detective Lopez had called in a CSU team and the county medical examiner. According to Tully, they hadn’t finished removing Ethan’s body. Tully said that the teenager had not been decapitated. His body had, however, been partially dismembered. And there was more, he had told her. Chunks of flesh had been cut out.
For a killer who had directed them to one of his dumping grounds and left so much for them to find, Maggie couldn’t figure out why he would leave Ethan’s body down a ravine. He certainly wanted them to know about this murder or he wouldn’t have left her cell phone number with the severed finger. But perhaps he didn’t want them to actually find Ethan’s body. She didn’t want to think about it. Not until Grace was out of surgery.
Dr. Towle had warned them that the surgery might take three to four hours. The wait was bad enough, but Creed’s silence was unbearable. They had watched two cats and more than a dozen dogs of various breeds come and go with their owners. Several were hard to watch. Maggie knew she wouldn’t shake the image of the elderly couple with an old and worn-out border collie, so weak a student had to carry the dog to an examination room.
It was at the end of the day and the reception area, which had been bustling with activity, was quiet. They were the only two left.
“Tell me about Grace,” she said, hoping to keep him talking.
“What about her?”
“She doesn’t seem like the typical cadaver dog. I know you said it’s not about the breed as much as the individual dog, but she just seems—”
“She’s small but she’s strong,” he interrupted. “And she’s a workaholic.”
He sounded defensive. The last thing Maggie wanted.
“Almost all our dogs are rescue dogs, so none of them are typical.” He opened the bottle of soda and took a sip. “By rescue, I mean we’ve found them literally on our doorstep or I’ve gotten them from the pound. Some of them have a lot of issues and it takes longer to work with them. And to be honest, we’ve had some we just couldn’t train.”
“What happens to them?” From his expression, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“Hannah finds them a good home. She gets dragged into doing a whole lot of things she never bargained for.”
The mention of Hannah’s name made him pull out his cell phone and check it. She had seen him send several text messages when they arrived and after Grace went in to surgery. Now she realized it must have been Hannah he was keeping posted. As usual, the gesture made her recognize that she didn’t have anyone she felt such urgency to talk to that she needed to text and communicate in real time. Anything she had to say could wait.
It was always that way even when she was married. There was a time she believed Benjamin Platt would change that. She had even hoped he would. Ironic. Since her divorce, Maggie had felt it would be too encumbering to be held down in a relationship. She didn’t want to be obligated to tell someone where she was, what she was doing, or when she would be home. She refused to live up to someone else’s expectations in exchange for being loved. She had done that for too many years in a marriage that was more exhausting than rewarding.
But lately she found herself wanting there to be someone who couldn’t wait to find out how she was doing. Someone she couldn’t wait to talk to, who would be at the other end instantly answering her texts. Sitting next to Ryder Creed, she realized that being alone could sometimes feel terribly empty.
Creed interrupted her thoughts. “I shouldn’t have let Grace do the search today.”
Maggie glanced at him. He was sitting forward now, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together and anchored under his chin.
“You couldn’t have possibly known about the ravine.”
“No, but I did know that Grace wasn’t used to rocky terrain. It was dangerous. It was foolish.” He was staring straight ahead, looking down the hallway where they had watched the surgeon leave them.
Then he said, “Thanks for staying.”
It caught Maggie off guard. Before she could respond, he added, “For Grace, that is.”
CHAPTER 45
Maggie left Creed once Grace was out of surgery. Dr. Towle was pleased with how well everything went.
“No surprises,” she had told them. “Grace was a very lucky little dog.”
Then she explained the procedure she had gone through to put Grace’s left leg back together again. The cast would cover the entire leg. They wanted to keep her overnight, maybe tomorrow night, too. Creed wanted to see her immediately. Maggie took that opportunity to leave.
She had the rented SUV, since Tully had stayed with Lopez and his crew. Before checking in with Tully she found her way back to Noah Waters’s house. She parked along the curb opposite the split-level house. She punched in the phone number and watched through the Waterses’ front bay window. Though the sheer curtains were closed Maggie could see someone walk by to pick up the landline phone that Maggie remembered seeing on a bookcase in the corner.
“Hello?”
It was Noah’s mother.
“Mrs. Waters, this is Agent Maggie O’Dell. I met you earlier today.”
Silence. Of course, the woman remembered. She had spent a good deal of time staring darts at Maggie. She had complained when Maggie wouldn’t allow her to stay in the room while she interviewed her son.
“Mrs. Waters, I need to speak with Noah.”
“He’s not here,” she said quickly.
“He’s not allowed to leave your house, Mrs. Waters. If he’s not there, I’ll need to notify Detective Lopez and an arrest warrant will be issued.” She said this while she watched Mrs. Waters through the window waving her hands at someone in the room in an attempt to get him to stay quiet or leave.
Maggie got out of the SUV, crossed the street, and started up the sidewalk.
“He’s with his father. They’ll be right back,” she lied as Maggie rang the doorbell. “Oh, I have someone at the door, you’ll need to call back.” And she hung up.
When she answered the door the woman’s expression quickly changed from a smile to surprise and then anger. “That wasn’t very professional,” she scolded Maggie.
“And lying to a federal officer is a felony,” Maggie said as she saw Noah sitting on the edge of the sofa.
“You can’t just come in here whenever you want.”
“Would you rather I come back with an arrest warrant?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I won’t let you—”
“You found him,” Noah interrupted, but he didn’t move from his seat.
“Oh, my God. You found Ethan? Is he okay?”
“He’s dead. Just like your son told us.”
“I’m calling your father, Noah.” And the woman was already heading back to the phone. “You shouldn’t talk to anyone without a lawyer.”
“It’s time you told me the truth, Noah,” Maggie said.
He l
ooked over his shoulder at his mother, now talking on the phone in a hysterical tone. Noah stood, grabbed a jacket, and said to Maggie, “Can we take a walk? I haven’t been outside all day.”
CHAPTER 46
Noah couldn’t believe how calm he suddenly felt. Finding Ethan meant he hadn’t imagined that horrible night. It shouldn’t have made him feel better, and yet there was relief. He breathed in the crisp spring air. The sun had started to slip behind the ridge and the sky was already filled with streaks of pink and purple. With the sun went the warmth of the day and he shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets as he walked alongside the FBI agent.
She was shorter than him. The jeans she wore were soiled at the knees and he noticed some raw scrapes on her forearms where she had her shirtsleeves shoved up above her elbows. Her short hair was tousled, though it wasn’t windy. Despite the chill in the air, she didn’t appear cold at all. And here, right now like this, she appeared younger. Not as intimidating. She certainly didn’t look like an FBI agent.
He had questions for her but he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers. He knew she was waiting for him to speak first. They had walked a block before he realized he’d have to tell her something.
“It wasn’t us that was stranded,” he finally started. “We thought he was. He said his car wouldn’t start and his cell phone battery had died. He had his arm in a sling.”
And stupid Ethan rolled down the car window. We were so close to home.
“What did he look like?”
“It was dark. He wore a ball cap low over his eyes.” He knew he’d never forget those eyes, narrow set and black. They looked like they belonged to a wolf.
She was waiting for more. He’d never tell.
Can’t tell. Promised I wouldn’t tell.
“How tall was he?”
Noah shrugged like he couldn’t remember.
“As tall as you?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
He saw her push back a strand of her hair and let out a frustrated sigh.
“You’ve got to give me more than that, Noah.”
The tightness returned to his chest. What if the madman was watching his house? What if he was watching them right now? Did he know this woman was an FBI agent? No, there was no way he would think she’s anything more than a family friend.
“He had a knife hidden in the sling.” Noah’s eyes darted around and over his shoulder.
She glanced at him but didn’t say anything. He could feel his breathing change. That fight or flight panic kicking him in his gut.
“I ran.” He wiped his sleeve across his forehead. He was still chilly but sweating. “I left Ethan and I ran.”
“That’s it?”
That was it. That was all she was getting. Can’t tell. Don’t tell.
“I ran. I left him there with that madman.”
He took a gulp of fresh air. Let it out slowly. Their pace had slowed but they continued walking. His pulse was still racing. He was two or three steps ahead when he realized she had stopped.
“So how did you end up with Ethan’s blood on you?”
“I guess he must have cut Ethan.” He shook his head, wanting the images to stay away. He did not want to see the knife plunge in again. The blade slicing flesh. The sound of joints snapping. “There’s a lot that’s still blurry,” he lied and closed his eyes against the memories that came flooding back without control. There was nothing blurry about them, but with any luck, that’s what Agent O’Dell might think.
When he opened his eyes she was staring at him. She didn’t believe him and she didn’t care if he knew that she didn’t believe him. She waited for him to meet her eyes.
“I’m your best bet for catching this killer, Noah. And if I don’t, you have to know he’ll be back. He won’t give you a chance to run a second time.”
Then she turned and walked away from him. He watched her return to her SUV, never once glancing back at him.
CHAPTER 47
Maggie got back to the Holiday Inn just as twilight transformed the sky into a neon blue. When she walked into the hotel room she noticed the doors connecting hers and Tully’s rooms were still open. She could see Tully’s bathroom door was closed and the sound of the shower brought her overwhelming comfort. She left the doors open.
Earlier her nerves had been frayed. She had come close to grabbing Noah Waters by the jacket collar and shaking him until he told her the truth. Now exhaustion seeped in, replacing adrenaline. Her body ached from climbing down the ravine. At the veterinary hospital she had washed off the dirt and wiped her face with harsh brown paper towels. She knew she’d find cuts and bruises once she started removing her clothing. A long hot shower would help.
She was glad Tully was here. He’d listen and shrug and say something that would put everything back in perspective. Then he’d suggest they order room service, some beers, more of those sliders that he gobbled up last night.
She heard the shower turn off. She’d give him time to put some clothes on. She checked her cell phone. The battery was almost dead. There was only one voice message, from a number she didn’t recognize. She dug her charger out of her laptop case and plugged it in. Checked again and noticed a text from Ben.
“YOUR BOYS R MISSING U.”
A photo was attached and she opened it to find not just Jake and Harvey mugging for the camera, but Ben and his Westie, Digger, too.
“Your boys.” She read the single line of text again. Did he mean Harvey and Jake or was he including Digger and himself?
She heard noise next door. Tully was out and it sounded like he was shoving around furniture.
She went to the adjoining doorway. “Hey, are you decent?” she asked as she walked in. Creed stood at the other side of the room wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Oh, my God, I’m sorry.” Immediately she felt her face go hot. “I was expecting Tully.” She took one step back and dipped her head but her eyes darted back to his chest, his torso, his legs.
“No, it’s okay. Come on in. I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”
To leave now would be an admission that she actually did mind. And he honestly didn’t seem to care. He went back to what she had interrupted, spreading out a folded map over the bed closest to the window. Her eyes took the opportunity to scan the length of him. But then she felt the heat flush more than her face. What the hell was wrong with her?
“Is Tully here?”
“He should be back pretty soon. He took my Jeep. Had an errand or something.”
He kept opening the rest of the accordion map, fold by fold, and smoothing the creases. He seemed completely unaware of how low the towel hung on him, exposing the indent of lean hip muscles.
When she didn’t say anything, he continued, without looking up, “Lopez dropped him off at the vet hospital. The Holiday Inn doesn’t have any more rooms. Tully said I could crash with him.” He was intent on the map, bending at the waist now and running an index finger over it in search of something. Then suddenly Creed glanced up at her. “I’m sorry. We should have cleared it with you.”
“No, don’t be silly. It’s fine. And there’s plenty of room. Two double beds in both rooms.” Now she was babbling and she wasn’t a woman who babbled. Why did she just tell him how many beds there were?
“How’s Grace?” she asked, wanting to take her mind off his long legs and broad shoulders. He could be the poster model for six-pack abs.
“She’s good.” He stood up straight, his thoughts back to Grace instead of the map. His hair was still damp and tousled from the shower. His jaw, dark and unshaven. He rubbed a hand over his face. “I waited until she woke up before I left. I wanted to stay long enough to make sure she understood I was there. That she was okay. Not scared. Well, you know, you’ve got dogs. You reassure them as best as you can.”
She kept her eyes on his as she listened and witnessed yet another transformation of this man. Over the course of two days she had watched him go from quiet, proficien
t professional to frantic, macho protector to sullen, contemplative rescuer to this: a concerned, gentle—totally hot—caretaker.
She didn’t realize that they were staring at other each for a beat too long until he smiled.
“So what exactly are you doing?” She dropped her eyes to the map but she could feel his still on her.
“I bought this map downstairs.” Thankfully, his mind was back to his search. “It has South Dakota and Iowa, Nebraska and Kansas. I thought there might be some connection, some pattern, to the highway sections he’s chosen. Interstate 70 goes all the way to Washington, D.C. Take a look.” And he gestured for her to come around to his side of the bed.
“I don’t mind waiting if you want to throw some clothes on.”
“I don’t have any. My duffel bag’s still in the Jeep.” He looked up at her, again. She hadn’t moved. “If you’re uncomfortable—”
“No, of course, not.” She made herself take one step, then another, until she was at the end of the bed, hitching her neck to the side so she could see the map without coming around the bed and standing right beside him.
“Okay, so show me what you’ve got,” she said and immediately blushed at her poor choice of words.
Creed didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he was giving her a pass. She pushed a strand of hair back behind one ear. Then planted her hands on her hips and stared at the map.
Focus, O’Dell, she told herself.
This close she could smell his freshly scrubbed skin, the hotel’s shampoo. A quick glance and she noticed a scar on his jawline, a half inch of white more pronounced in the unshaven bristles. Her body was still too conscious of his. She was exhausted, that’s all. It was more difficult to shut down basic physical responses when the body was fatigued. This time when he glanced up at her, he did notice. And his eyes locked on hers.
