by Kava, Alex
“Do you have a few minutes this morning to stop by the Woodson’s with me?” he asked the sheriff.
She’d been watching the other customers, but her eyes darted to Jason’s. She didn’t ask him why. She simply said, “Sure.”
Chapter 52
Nebraska
“Look!”
Maggie’s eyes followed where Lucy Coy pointed to a bird with a black head and throat, long black tail and white belly. The contrast of black and white was as bold as the bird that didn’t appear threatened by them as it watched from the fence post not five feet away.
“It’s a magpie,” Lucy told her.
“Seriously? I’ve never seen one before.”
Maggie had shared with Lucy that her father used to call her his magpie. And of course, the woman remembered. Maggie missed her father less and less these days. As more time passed, his presence felt like a dream rather than a reality. A firefighter, he was killed in the line of duty when Maggie was twelve. Her mother took up the nickname, but when she called Maggie “magpie” it wasn’t said as a term of endearment as much as a sneer.
It wasn’t until much later that she learned why her mother harbored such disdain for the man who Maggie had adored. To her mother’s credit, she didn’t tell her daughter until she was an adult; the secret of her father’s infidelity and that she had a half-brother.
“They’re quite remarkable birds,” Lucy told her. “They can mimic other birds, a dog, even a human voice. In some Native American legends, the magpie is a loyal friend who warns them of danger. The Cheyenne consider the magpie a sacred messenger of the Creator.”
“So what does it mean seeing it here?”
“If you believe Indian legends, it could be warning us about something.” Then Lucy shrugged. “They feed on roadkill as well as the insects that hang around cattle. Actually, it’s not that unusual to see them in Nebraska pastures.”
Maggie was pretty sure she didn’t believe in legends and myths anyway. But it was a reminder that something had been nagging at her all morning. She couldn’t figure out why Eli Dunn had gone through the trouble of dumping dead bodies this far away from his own farm.
She was a profiler. She made her living putting together the pieces of why criminals acted the way they did. If she could discover their patterns and habits, she could predict their motives—and sometimes—she could predict their next move.
With her hands on her hips she turned slowly, full circle as she scanned the surroundings. A line of large evergreens, side by side with very little room in between, ran almost the entire length of the dirt path into the pasture. On the other side of the trees was a cornfield. She’d noticed there were plenty of dirt roads into pastures and cornfields for miles. Why had Dunn chosen this one?
The majority of killers dumped the bodies of their victims less than a hundred feet from a main road. But Dunn had left Highway 92 and traveled several narrow gravel roads before he chose this dirt path into a grassy pasture. Was it the huge dead tree that attracted him? It was certainly a landmark that wasn’t going to be moved any time soon.
She felt Lucy staring at her.
“You’re wondering why he chose this place?” she asked.
“The CSU team found what they believe are human remains in a firepit in his backyard. His own farm is surrounded by cornfields and pastures and woods. Why take them two hours away to dispose of their bodies when he has all those isolated areas all around him?”
Before Lucy could answer, Maggie continued, “And the body in the lake. He didn’t just weight her down and toss her in. He may have stolen a car, put her in the trunk and drove the car out onto the ice leaving a sign that made it look like the whole thing was an advertising gimmick.”
Her eyes darted to the State Patrol SUV though Dunn was still in the backseat, and she could only see the back of his head.
“I don’t get it,” she finally admitted.
“I think he has a connection to this area.”
“So you agree he didn’t just drive these backroads looking around for some random place?”
“I’ve looked into his eyes,” Lucy said, “and I see a man who constantly wants to impress and brag about what he’s done. He wants us to know how smart he is, and that he’s gotten away with things he believes a man less cunning would have been punished for.”
“When I showed him the photo of Brodie Creed, I asked him if she was in his precious notebook,” Maggie said, still taking in the quiet and isolation. “He told me it depends if she’s one of the ones that got sold or one of the ones that got buried.” She stopped to meet Lucy’s eyes. “What do you suppose it depends on? How did he choose which ones to sell and which ones to bury? Wouldn’t it just be easier to sell them?”
“That’s your territory,” Lucy told her. “I’m trained to look at the body and the evidence. Trying to delve into the minds of madmen can be a dangerous endeavor.”
She pointed to something back behind Maggie and said, “Looks like Mr. Creed and Grace are ready.”
Chapter 53
Creed waited for Troopers Gregory and Vegaz to lead Eli Dunn back to the SUV after performing his hocus-pocus. Creed thought it was a ridiculous waste of time. He couldn’t believe that Maggie even allowed the man such a privilege. From what he understood, it was the price they had to pay in order for Dunn to narrow the search to this pasture.
When asked exactly where the body was buried, the man shrugged and lifted his arms in an over-exaggerated gesture suggesting he couldn’t possibly tell them more while his wrists and ankles were shackled. Without a K9 team, maybe that little ploy would have worked. Maybe that was why Dunn stared at Grace with such venom while he grinned at the rest of them.
Creed waited until Dunn was back in the vehicle before he let Grace off her leash, but he could still feel the man’s eyes on the dog. Grace didn’t seem to notice or care. She had her vest on for recovery, and she was ready to get to work. In some places the grass and the wildflowers were taller than the dog, making her hop and zigzag through. Creed kept an eye on her while he followed and looked for craters of dirt or body burns.
His eyes skimmed over the brown and red grasses, watching for any drastic changes. Bodies were rarely under mounds. Instead, the earth tended to dip and sink when decomposition reduced it to less than the bulk that was originally buried. Sometimes the soil turned acidic from the decomp. That’s what was referred to as a body burn. Either way, there was often a change in the plants that grew up over the area. Weeds might not be quite as tall as the surrounding weeds.
Grace worked from side to side, parting the waves of grass, her nose up and sniffing. Every once in a while she’d skid to a halt from a dead run. She’d poke the air and sometimes backtrack before moving on.
Creed didn’t know how long ago Eli Dunn had buried a body here. He didn’t want to know. Maybe it was long enough that the plants had grown back and nature had resumed its normal course. No matter when it happened there was a chance wild animals had disturbed the grave. Maybe a coyote or raccoon had even pillaged and dragged off some of the remains. In that case, the scent cone would be wider.
They had been at it for over twenty minutes. Creed was about to call Grace for a water break when he noticed the change. Her head lifted higher to gather more samples. She was moving at a steady lope instead of racing from side to side. He let her continue, checking his watch. He didn’t want to push her. Though the day was cool, the rapid breathing could exhaust a dog more quickly. She disappeared into taller grass, and all Creed could see was her tail poking up.
Suddenly, he saw the tail stop. Then he watched it curl.
Grace had found something.
Creed pulled two fluorescent orange flags from his daypack and pushed them into the ground to mark the spots, because Grace wasn’t finished. He stopped her long enough for a drink of water and to run his hands over her body and paws
. He’d noticed some sandburs along the dirt path earlier and knew Grace wouldn’t complain even if one were stabbing in between her pads. After another thirty-five minutes she stopped on her own. This time her head turned back to find him. Then she stared into his eyes.
They were in the middle of the pasture, over a hundred feet away from where they had started. He planted another fluorescent flag before he tugged Grace’s pink elephant out of his pack. She had to be tired, but she still danced on her hind legs when she saw her toy.
“Good girl, Grace! Good work.” He squeaked it then tossed it for her to catch. “Don’t go far.”
Only now did he notice that the sky had darkened with clouds. He had been watching Grace so intensely he hadn’t paid attention to the thunderheads on the horizon, rolling toward them.
He saw Maggie start approaching and Sheriff Timmons was at her side. Creed put his hand up, his palm out to stop them. He grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket and decided to text her instead of calling, so Timmons wouldn’t overhear.
JUST YOU.
He watched her fish her phone out and casually turned away so Timmons couldn’t see the screen. Within seconds she was telling the sheriff something. He looked up and stared at Creed. It was too far away to see the man’s face under the brim of his ball cap, but Creed could still feel Timmons’ scowl.
As he waited for Maggie he inspected the ground. The grass was shorter here, some of it yellow. In places it was flattened as if something had been resting on top, long enough to yellow the grass. He stopped so he wouldn’t trample what could be evidence. He swiped a hand over his bristled jaw while his eyes continued to scan and search. Then he saw the spot Grace had alerted to. The ground had been churned up, recently enough that nothing had started growing on top of the carefully patted-down mound. He could see chunks of dirt discarded in the grass, no longer necessary to fill the hole, because something else was buried here that hadn’t left room.
“What is it?” Maggie asked, now coming up beside him.
“When did you say you arrested Dunn?”
He glanced at her when she didn’t answer. She had to think about it. For the first time, Creed saw her exhaustion. She ran her fingers through her hair while the other hand stayed on her hip.
“Tuesday night. Actually after midnight, so Wednesday morning.”
“Looks like something may have been moved. And this ground has been dug up recently.”
She stared at the mound of dirt. She started to look back over her shoulder, but stopped herself.
“Maybe the landowner moved something?” But Creed didn’t think she sounded convinced and before he could respond, she continued, “He could have done it the day before we arrested him. We know he moved the other captives from his house.”
“I guess that’s possible. But why even bring us here?”
Grace came prancing over to show Maggie her elephant as she squeaked it in her mouth. Creed didn’t send her away, and he was glad Maggie didn’t either.
“Hey, Grace. What a good girl you are,” Maggie told the dog as she held out her hand for the toy.
Grace dropped it carefully into Maggie’s palm. Creed could see it was sticky with dog drool, but Maggie didn’t flinch. Instead, she tossed it gently into the air making an easy catch for Grace. Then she slipped out her phone and kept her body carefully in between the grave and their search party while she took several photos.
The rumble of thunder made them both look up. The dark clouds were now swirling overhead.
“Lucy mentioned she has a couple of tarps,” Maggie told him, as she was texting a message. Before she finished, Creed saw Lucy pulling up the tailgate of her SUV.
The breeze that came with the thunderheads was cooler than the day had been. Creed felt a chill where sweat had plastered his T-shirt to his back. He was grateful for the button-down shirt he wore unbuttoned, untucked and with the sleeves rolled up. The shirttail whipped around him now from a warning gust.
In no time, they had the gravesite covered, the corners of the tarp weighted down. They stretched a second over the other two sites where Grace had alerted. Drops of cold rain started to fall just as they got back to their vehicles. Maggie had told Lucy, Sheriff Timmons and the state troopers that Grace had discovered a possible gravesite. She made no mention of the recent digging.
Timmons said he’d need to go tell the landowner about them digging on his property. But there was no house, no farm as far as Creed could see. He had noticed on the drive that there were miles of pastures and fields without a building in sight. Also, he realized this was the sheriff’s county. Most likely, he knew exactly who owned the property and where to find him.
Through the rain-streaked window, Dunn watched from the secured back of the trooper’s SUV. Creed tried to avoid looking his way, because every time he did, the man was grinning at him.
Maggie volunteered that she and Creed would go get lunch for everyone while they waited out the thunderclouds. He caught her and Lucy exchanging a glance and a nod that told him Lucy would keep an eye on things while Maggie climbed into the passenger side of his Jeep.
They bumped along the dirt path, the ruts quickly filling with rain. He poked at his GPS to find out how far they’d need to go to get lunch. David City was the closest at eleven miles. He glanced at Maggie to see if she had any recommendations, but she didn’t appear to be thinking about food.
Instead, she pulled out Eli Dunn’s small notebook and started flipping through the pages. Finally she said to him, “I don’t like this.”
Chapter 54
Omaha, Nebraska
Tommy Pakula was at the Douglas County Crime Lab when he got the call from Ms. Gabriel at Project Harmony. His mind was still trying to wrap around what one of the techs had just told him. Pakula didn’t know a thing about dive tanks but when the tech took the apparatus apart at the top of the tank and showed him, Pakula could feel the knot twist in his stomach.
“There’s no way,” the tech told him, “for these pieces of plastic to find their way inside here on their own. To be honest, I don’t even know what they are, yet. I’ll break them down and find out, but I know they don’t belong here.”
“Could they come from some sort of corrosion? Or something like that?”
The tech shook his head. He pinched one of the clear pebbles and brought it out. There had to be almost a dozen of them inside the gadget that connected to the top of the tank. He gestured for Pakula to give him the palm of his hand, and he dropped it in the middle. It felt like a hard, plastic bead.
“So these could be the reason why the air wasn’t flowing from the tank properly?” Pakula asked.
“They definitely would make it difficult to breathe. Even if the diver opened up the airflow, these little devils would still be rattling around inside. Sort of like clogging up an air filter. You’d still be getting air. Actually, your tank would be registering that it had plenty of air, but you’d be sucking in hard just to breathe.”
So Pakula was trying to figure out how and why someone had tampered with Ryder Creed’s dive tank when Ms. Gabriel called.
“Konnor has asked to speak with you, again,” she said. “He’s starting to remember.”
This time when he arrived at Project Harmony, Gabriel was waiting for him.
“I must warn you,” she said. “He’s been battling these memories. The drugs his captors were giving him, helped repress his memories. Without the drugs, we expected this to happen. We’ve been working with him, but this morning he said he needed to talk to you.”
“What do you suggest I do?”
“Listen. Try not to prod.” She led them through the halls, and now she stopped ten paces away from the door. “Just remember, some of his memories might not be real.”
“What do you mean?”
“We don’t know what drugs he was given. Some of them could have been hal
lucinogenic.”
Pakula dragged his hand over his shaved head and released a heavy sigh. He’d come up empty-handed and had no clue where Eli Dunn had moved the rest of his victims before the raid. He suspected that the drug dealer named T-Rock might know, but of course, the man wasn’t willing to share.
Pakula had even checked on Eli Dunn’s mother, Eleanor. The director of the long-term care facility told him that the woman’s dementia would probably make it difficult for her to tell Pakula anything about her son when she didn’t even remember she had a son.
He was growing more and more frustrated. The days were ticking by. He knew if he didn’t find a trail soon, those kids would be gone. Maybe they already were. They could be halfway across the country by now. Konnor might be their only hope.
The boy was waiting for him in the same spot, even the same chair. This time the kid actually smiled at him.
“Hello, Konnor,” he said as he took his chair.
He looked better but on closer inspection, Pakula could still see the sunken cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes. However, there was a sparkle that hadn’t been there last time.
“I’m starting to remember some things,” he told Pakula, and he sounded anxious to share.
“That’s great.”
“There were four of us in the house before the police came,” he said. He furrowed his brow like he wanted Pakula to know he was serious and ready to get down to business. “I was the only boy. There was a woman. Older. Long brown hair. The other two girls were around my age. I think. I don’t know for sure. They had long brown hair, too.”
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.
