Stranded

by Alex Kava

  “Wow! Just like James Bond,” Creed said.

  “So Gwen thinks you’re James Bond?”

  “As Emma would say, Bond is so yesterday. More like Jason Bourne.”

  “Oh right.” Maggie laughed. “That’s exactly who I see when I think of you.”

  “Wait, there’s more,” he told them as he put the pen back together again. He screwed off the very top of the pen and showed them the display.

  “A compass?”

  “Not a compass,” Creed said. “Is that a GPS?”

  “Yup.” Tully snapped the top back in place and started making marks on the napkin. “And it writes, too. Does my woman love me or what?”

  And that’s the moment that Creed found Maggie’s eyes. Something passed between them, strong enough that Creed looked away. Not just looked away but took a deep breath.

  “How about another drink?” he asked them, and he was already waving over the waiter.

  Maggie’s cell phone started ringing. She glanced at it. No caller ID but she recognized the number. It was the same one that had called earlier and didn’t leave a voice message.

  “This is Maggie O’Dell.”

  “That bastard tried to kill me.”

  “Excuse me. Who is this?”

  “It’s Lily. Your new best friend from Iowa. You already forgot who the hell I am?”

  “Slow down. No, of course I haven’t forgotten.”

  “The damned bastard bashed me in the head.”

  “Lily, what are you talking about? Who tried to kill you?”

  “The son of a bitch who’s been burying all those bodies. That bastard in the stupid Booty Hunter cap … he tried to kill me.”

  CHAPTER 50

  It was almost midnight when Maggie called Sheriff Uniss in Sioux City, Iowa. She was ready to apologize but the sheriff beat her to it.

  “I don’t know how it happened.” He was immediately defensive. “Nobody got your name from me.”

  “What exactly are you talking about?”

  “The media. They swarmed the place like locusts almost as soon as you two left. We’ve got them all out there: CNN, ABC, FOX, even frickin’ Entertainment Tonight. I didn’t give them your name.”

  She hadn’t turned on a television or listened to a radio since her and Tully’s drive down. While she listened to Sheriff Uniss, she walked across her hotel room and turned on the TV, found CNN, and within seconds saw why the sheriff was frazzled by her call. Her photo was set in the upper right corner of the screen while a reporter spoke from the scene. She recognized the long driveway of the Iowa farm in the background. She left the Mute button on. Sat on the edge of the bed and ran her fingers through her hair.

  This is not a big deal, she told herself.

  “That’s not why I’m calling, Sheriff,” she said.

  “One of the men said they’ve been running some kind of profile piece on you. I swear to you, they didn’t get a single thing from me or my men.”

  Maggie switched the channel to FOX and saw that her photo was a part of their “breaking news” alert, too. Must be a slow news cycle and again, she brushed it off.

  “Sheriff, listen to me for a minute, please. The construction crew that was helping, are they still there?”

  “Construction crew?”

  “Yes, the foreman, Buzz, and his crew.” She shook her head in frustration. Why hadn’t they gotten more than the men’s first names?

  “No, those guys have moved on. We’ve got this place marked off as a crime scene indefinitely. Those guys won’t be back any time soon.”

  “They’ve already loaded up their equipment?”

  “Early yesterday.”

  Damn it!

  She heard a knock at the adjoining doorway, which was open, and Creed peeked around the doorjamb. He held up two cans of Diet Pepsi. She waved him into the room.

  “We need to bring in Buzz for questioning. Is that something that your department can handle?”

  “Of course we can handle that, but you’ll need to tell me what the hell we’re questioning him about.”

  Creed was watching the television screen and she wished she’d shut the damned thing off.

  “I got a call from Lily.”

  “Lily?”

  “The woman we found in the house.”

  “That lot lizard?”

  “Yes. She said Buzz tried to kill her.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. And you believed her? She’s probably strung out again on high-speed chicken feed.”

  “High-speed chicken feed?”

  “Meth. That’s what the truckers call it.”

  “Look, Sheriff, you need to find Buzz and, if possible, Lily.”

  “She called you but she didn’t tell you where she was? I hate to say this, Agent O’Dell, but sometimes people on meth hallucinate the wildest things.”

  Maggie knew that. She remembered Lily trying to pick imaginary bugs off herself. But the woman had sounded genuinely in distress. And Buzz fit their general profile. A man who traveled from worksite to worksite across the country. Mid to late thirties, lean, and in good shape. Used to hard, physical labor but smart and able to manage people. He could overpower a victim easily, and yet he was friendly enough to win over those same victims. She remembered him giving her the cap and making her feel like a part of his team.

  “If you don’t have the manpower to find Lily and Buzz, just tell me now,” Maggie told him.

  There was silence and she waited it out. He was probably thinking of the media fallout if he said no. Or worse, if it leaked that he hadn’t acted on an FBI agent’s request.

  “Are you going to want to question him when we bring him in?” he finally asked.

  “Yes. As soon as you find out his name, text it to me.”

  “Sure enough.”

  “And, Sheriff, please let me know the minute you find Lily. You might check the house at the farm.”

  “There’re people crawling all over the place. I doubt that she’s there at the house.”

  “Check the house.”

  He didn’t bother to muffle his heavy sigh. Then he added a second “Sure enough.”

  Creed sat on the corner of the other bed and when she looked over at him he held out a can of Diet Pepsi.

  “Turns out they have your brand in the vending machine.”

  “Thanks.” She tried not to be impressed that he remembered her favorite soda.

  He’d already popped the tab on both cans. She took a sip. Felt his eyes watching her. She turned around and shut off the TV. She could hear Tully’s voice in the next room. She knew he had the more difficult phone call—their boss.

  This was the first time she and Creed were alone together since they had kissed and … whatever that incident was on the bed. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. Maybe that sort of thing was a common occurrence for him. It certainly was not for her.

  “About before,” she said and immediately his eyes told her he knew exactly what “before” she was referring to and that she didn’t need to finish the sentence.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “It’s no big deal?” she asked too quickly, surprised at the slight sting. Isn’t that what she wanted? That it not be a big deal.

  But his face was serious. There was no trademark hitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth when he said, “Only if you want it to be.”

  And there it was. She could feel it all over again. Electricity. Too strong for comfort.

  He stood up but his eyes stayed on hers even as he took two steps back, away from the bed, away from her. His attempt to break the circuit?

  “You should try to get some sleep,” he said.

  She nodded. Smiled. “I haven’t been sleeping much lately.”

  “Insomnia?”

  “Guess it comes with the territory.”

  “I’ve found that Scotch or bourbon usually works.”

  “You, too, huh?”

  “There’s a legend that says when you
can’t sleep it’s because you’re awake in someone else’s dream.”

  She thought about that. Took a few more sips of the soda, then said, “Someone else’s dream? Or someone else’s nightmare?”

  That’s when Tully came into the room. His hair stood up where he’d raked his fingers through it too many times. Maggie noticed a fresh stain on his shirt—pizza sauce. He looked exhausted. He leaned a shoulder against the wall as if he needed it to prop him up.

  His eyes found and held Maggie’s. “Sounds like you and me are going to Florida.”

  CHAPTER 51

  Before Agent Tully could finish explaining why they were being sent to Florida, Creed’s phone began to ring. It was Hannah. He left the two agents and retreated to the other room as he checked his watch. His jaw clamped tight. Only bad news came at this time of night.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked in place of a greeting.

  “Everything’s fine. Don’t get your Jockeys in a twist. I knew you’d spazz out but I also knew you’d be awake.”

  “Dogs are okay?”

  “Everybody is fine. How’s Grace?”

  “I can pick her up at seven tomorrow morning. Actually, this morning. I called and checked on her two hours ago and they said she was resting. Doing good.”

  “She’s a tough girl, but I won’t lie, I’ll be glad to have her back home where I can fuss over her.”

  That made him smile. Hannah probably already had a place set up for Grace in their office where she’d be able to watch her.

  “I just got a phone call from Agent Alonzo,” she said. “He wants to know if we can provide a cadaver dog and handler on Saturday here in our neck of the woods.”

  So that’s where Maggie and Tully were headed. Creed hated that his first response was a twinge of excitement.

  “Felix isn’t back until next week. Andy is still on the West Coast,” Hannah continued.

  “It’s an extension of this case,” he told her. “I can do it.”

  “Rye, seriously? You’re going to be on the road all day tomorrow.”

  “If I leave here by seven, I’ll be home late evening. I can meet them at the site on Saturday.”

  “What’s up with you? Something’s going on.”

  “This killer’s taking his victims from rest areas, Hannah. That farm up in Iowa—they think he’s had access to it for about ten years. If they’ve found another site, who knows how long he’s been using it.”

  She was quiet for so long Creed thought he might have lost the connection.

  “Rye, this has already been a long stretch for you.”

  Her voice was soft and gentle, that nurturing tone that set him on edge.

  “I told you I’d let you know when it was time to worry about me.”

  “That you did,” she admitted, and he could hear her let up. He supposed it was a bit like saying if a crazy man knows he’s crazy, then maybe he hasn’t quite fallen off the ledge … yet.

  “I know I might never find her, Hannah. But I can’t just stop looking.”

  More silence.

  “Okay, but I’m charging the FBI extra for this one,” she finally said.

  He smiled, but realized it was more out of relief than humor.

  FRIDAY, MARCH 22

  CHAPTER 52

  Maggie didn’t realize she was gritting her teeth.

  “No rain in the forecast until tomorrow,” Tully said, glancing at her grip on the armrest of her seat. “No thunderstorm turbulence.”

  Maggie didn’t let up.

  They had been greeted by roller-coaster turbulence at the beginning of the week when they flew into Omaha. No threat of turbulence was good. But it really didn’t matter. The plane was still climbing, that awful tilt, the pressure pressing her back against the seat cushion. She hated flying. Hated being thirty-eight thousand feet above control.

  But Tully? He was actually excited. Kunze had booked them in first class.

  “We get lunch on this flight.” Tully said it like a little boy awaiting a surprise. Maggie even noticed him leaning into the aisle, head tilting as he tried to catch a glimpse of what lunch might be. “First class is real plates, cloth napkins, real food.”

  She shot him a look. Like “real” mattered to him. Maggie had seen the man eat Pop-Tarts from a vending machine that were three months past their expiration date. Sometimes she wondered if food was all he thought about. The man could put away a pile and was amazingly indiscriminate about it. Good thing he was with Gwen, a gourmet cook, who loved to cook as much as Tully loved to eat. Tall and lanky, his knees still didn’t seem to have enough room between his seat and the one in front of him—even in first class.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked. “You didn’t have any breakfast.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t wake me. Or that I slept, for that matter.”

  “You obviously needed it.”

  What she’d wanted to say all morning was that she couldn’t believe Creed had left without saying good-bye. He was gone before she got up. Tully said that Creed had knocked and glanced into her room before he left but saw her sleeping and knew how much of a commodity sleep was for her.

  “He was anxious to pick up Grace and get her home,” Tully had explained. “Besides, we’ll see him tomorrow. Alonzo hired him to bring another dog and help track at the new dump site.”

  The new “dump site.” All they knew about the site was that it existed somewhere east of Milton, Florida, off Interstate 10 in a heavily wooded area close to some rivers and creeks. That’s all Otis would divulge. He took his job as guide seriously, as well as his ability to manipulate and milk the situation for all it was worth.

  Kunze and Alonzo were convinced that Jack had another hiding place close to this new dump site, just like the Iowa farm, complete with privacy and a vacant dwelling. Someplace for him to stay while he took his time with the victims’ bodies. Jack had led them to Iowa. He wanted to share his handiwork. Since the federal government had started building the wildlife preserve, they would have started finding the bodies anyway and Jack would never get credit.

  But Kunze hoped to catch the killer off guard by invading this site without his invitation. Jack had no reason to believe Otis P. Dodd would suddenly share his stories after a year had gone by. Kunze believed that Jack had probably forgotten about the odd, soft-spoken giant who appeared a little slow and awkward.

  Jack—but that wasn’t his real name. Not the one he went by anyway. After Lily’s frantic phone call, Maggie and Tully believed their highway killer’s name was Buzz. Thanks to Sheriff Uniss and Agent Alonzo, they now knew that the foreman, Buzz, was Stanley Johnson. However, he had disappeared from Iowa and apparently so had Lily.

  “We thought he was watching us,” Maggie said, trying to relax into her seat. “We just didn’t know from how close.”

  “It was strange how he gave you that cap and then it just disappeared from our table at the truck stop.”

  Maggie pulled out her laptop from the case she’d stuffed under the seat in front of her. She’d downloaded a file Alonzo had e-mailed them just before they boarded. Now she was anxious to open it and get her mind off being locked in a metal tube miles above the earth even if it meant digging into the psyche of a serial killer.

  “He doesn’t exactly fit the profile,” Tully said. “And Buzz was managing that construction crew before we got there.”

  “According to Alonzo’s information, thirty-six-year-old Stanley ‘Buzz’ Johnson is an independent contractor. He travels across the country doing mainly federal government projects. He lists his permanent residence as Dothan, Alabama. No criminal record. No traffic citations. No fingerprints on record. Alonzo found a Ford F-150 truck registered to him in the state of Alabama. No other property listed under his name.”

  “Wait a minute.” Tully grabbed his messenger bag and pulled out the map Alonzo had faxed earlier. It showed the general area in Florida where Otis was taking them tomorrow. Tully pushed up his glasses and took a cl
oser look. “Check this out.”

  He yanked his tray down in front of him and laid out the map. With his index finger he found and pointed to Dothan, Alabama, then traced down to I-10 directly below. Maggie’s eyes found Milton, Florida, on the map before Tully’s finger did. Buzz Johnson’s permanent residence was less than a hundred miles away from the new dump site.

  SATURDAY, MARCH 23

  CHAPTER 53

  OFF INTERSTATE 10

  OUTSIDE MILTON, FLORIDA

  Kunze had reserved two rooms for Maggie and Tully at a Red Roof Inn. Just off Interstate 10, the area was tucked up against a forest of pine trees. Clean and comfortable, but Maggie actually missed their adjoining rooms at the Holiday Inn. And surprisingly, she missed Creed. Silly, really. She barely knew the man. Probably missed having the extra company. That was all. She and Tully had been on the road together for too long.

  Tully, however, was happy. There was a Waffle House right next door.

  Maggie wanted to go home and spend time with her dogs. This stretch had been too long. Though she had to remind herself that she didn’t have a home right now. Hers had been gutted by fire. Cleanup had been heart-wrenching. She had left in the middle of rebuilding as electricians, plumbers, and drywallers tramped in and out, removing, restoring, and replacing. Maybe staying on the road wasn’t such a bad idea.

  There had been no word on Stanley “Buzz” Johnson. Agent Alonzo had gotten a photo from the man’s driver’s license and was now working with Detective Lopez in Kansas to see if Noah Waters might identify Buzz as the man who attacked him and his friend Ethan. Maggie didn’t believe that would happen. Noah was still too frightened.

  Thunderstorms had rumbled through Florida earlier in the morning, leaving the air thick with humidity and making sixty-three degrees feel damp and chilly even as the sun broke free of the clouds. More thunderstorms were predicted for later in the afternoon.