DESPERATE CREED: (Book 5 Ryder Creed K-9 Mystery Series) Page 11

  He glanced up at the law enforcement officers who appeared paralyzed by the discovery. He didn’t want to pull the child away and start the crying again. So instead, he sat back on his haunches and tried to run his fingers over one limb at a time.

  Trooper Sykes knelt beside them. He started at the top, running careful fingers through the plastered waves of feathery hair, checking the baby’s head.

  Grace weighted her front paws up on Creed’s thigh, supervising both him and Sykes. She was panting, her tongue hanging out and too far to the side.

  Creed looked up at Norwich and asked, “Could you get us some water?” He gestured to his daypack.

  She jerked into action. “Of course.”

  She fumbled with the zipper. He could feel her hands rummaging through the pack. Only then did Creed realize how discombobulated the sheriff was.

  “There’s a collapsible dish in there, too. For Grace.”

  While Sykes continued his slow and careful examination, Norwich opened and spilled water for Grace. At first the dog didn’t want to be distracted from her guard post, but thirst changed her mind. Norwich held the bowl while Grace lapped up the water. The baby pulled away from Creed to watch.

  “You want some, too?” Creed asked. “Are you thirsty?”

  The baby’s eyes met Creed’s for the first time, and he was pleased to see they were focused, tracking and interested. He also noticed the baby’s ears were packed with mud. Grace hadn’t had a chance to clean them out entirely. Gently, he tugged a plug of dirt out of one.

  “Are you thirsty?” he asked, again, and this time the child wiggled at the sound of his voice.

  Norwich squatted beside them with the water bottle, still tentative as if trying to figure it out.

  “You’re really good with babies,” she said.

  He caught himself before telling her there wasn’t much difference between babies and puppies. Not everyone appreciated that comparison.

  Norwich awkwardly adjusted the bottle bringing it to the baby’s lips, again, revealing how uncomfortable she was. She tipped it just enough for a small sip. Then another and another. Between Grace and the baby, they emptied the bottle. The little dog nosed Sheriff Norwich, wanting to take back her spot.

  “Okay, okay, I’m moving,” Norwich told Grace. She joked about getting out of the dog’s way, but Creed knew the woman was glad to resume her distance.

  “How old do you think?” he asked Sykes who had moved in front of Creed. Compared to Norwich, there was no hesitation.

  “Not quite a year.” Trooper Sykes ran his hands softly over the baby’s legs, taking his time to feel for broken bones or wounds hidden by the mud. “My guess is ten or eleven months. I radioed for help earlier,” he said in a low, calm voice. “Paramedics are headed back. They’ll have IVs if necessary, but he doesn’t look too dehydrated. I’m glad he drank some on his own.”

  “The pine trees provided shelter and shade,” Creed said. He glanced around to check on Norwich and saw her examining the car seat. “It’s almost as if they fell after he landed there.” He knew when he told the story to Hannah later she would claim it was a miracle. It would be hard to disagree with her.

  “Wait a minute. You said he? It’s a boy?”

  “Yeah, it’s a boy.” Sykes sat back on his heels and turned his head away. “And his diaper’s full.”

  “Hey, your diaper would be full, too, if you flew three hundred feet in a car seat.”

  Sykes laughed, and the baby jerked his focus away from Creed and Grace to look for the sound.

  “I found something,” Norwich called out. Her hands were muddy as she rubbed at the top of the carrier. “There’s a label with a name and address. They probably take this with them when they fly.”

  “That solves the problem of who he belongs to,” Sykes said.

  “Except he might be the only one who survived,” she countered.

  And once again, Creed was reminded that he and Grace still hadn’t found the driver.

  25

  Nashville, Tennessee

  “Girl, it’s about time you called!”

  Frankie smiled at the sound of her friend’s good-natured scolding. Of course, it helped that she was feeling snug and safe in her fourth floor hotel room. Right now, Frankie didn’t even care if it might be a false sense of security. It just felt good to be inside and off the interstate where every second she’d felt exposed. She had kicked off her shoes and already ordered room service. Comfort food. All of her favorites.

  Now she sat on the edge of the bed where she had a view of the only entrance to the hotel’s parking lot. The rain pounded against the window. Lightning streaked across the sky. She was thankful she made the decision to get off the road.

  “I’m in Nashville,” she told Hannah. “I forgot how long of a drive it was from Chicago to the panhandle.”

  “Even longer when you’re alone.”

  “You got that right.”

  “You feel safe where you are?” Hannah wanted to know.

  Frankie hesitated then said, “Yes.” She gave her friend the details of her choice and the precautions she’d taken. “It’s the safest I’ve felt all day. Especially with the storms.”

  “I’m afraid you’re going to be dodging storms all weekend. Now listen, before you drive all the way down here, my FBI friend wants to meet with you. Do you think you can get to Montgomery tomorrow about one o’clock?”

  “Sure,” Frankie said as she grabbed her notes and looked over her route. “That’s four hours from Nashville. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “I’m trying to cut a couple hours off for both of you. Maggie will be flying into Atlanta, so it’s a two-hour drive for her. It’d be twice that long for her to come all the way down here to the panhandle. You can meet with her for lunch, and then you’ll still have plenty of time to head on down. I’ll have a room waiting for you.”

  “Hannah, are you sure? I’ve been thinking about this, and I don’t want to put you and your boys at risk.”

  “After everything you and me have been through together? Girl, we’ll do just fine.”

  But there was something in Hannah’s voice that Frankie recognized. Her friend wasn’t as confident as she sounded.

  “Do you remember that meat-and-three this side of Montgomery? Southern Blessings?” Hannah asked.

  “Of course. Your grandparents used to take us there. Miss Opal used to bring us extra biscuits. I can’t believe it’s still there.”

  “Miss Opal passed away a few years back. The new owners haven’t changed a thing. And you need to bring some of those biscuits with you.”

  Frankie knew what Hannah was doing, trying to pretend that all was good and normal. She didn’t stop her.

  “I told Maggie that’s where you’d meet her,” Hannah told her. “At one o’clock. The place should be clearing out a bit, but on a Saturday, who knows. Her name’s Maggie O’Dell. I’m sure you’ll recognize her. She’ll be the only Yankee in the place.”

  Hannah laughed, and this time it was genuine with the lovely melody Frankie was used to hearing. She smiled. She’d been gone almost as many years as she’d lived in the south, but being born there seemed to give a person lifelong credentials. And Hannah was right. Frankie would probably be able to pick the FBI agent out of the diner’s usual lunch crowd.

  “I know you haven’t been able to check your email,” Hannah said, her voice already serious, again. “You said Tyler mentioned he was sending you something. Is that right?”

  “Yes, he did. I yelled at him about it. I can’t believe I yelled at him.” She couldn’t think about that right now. “I haven’t seen anything from him. My watch sends me notifications of my emails. Maybe it got dropped in my spam file.”

  “Do you mind giving me your email address and password? Maggie said it might be helpful if her computer analyst could take a look.”

  “Okay.” Frankie gave Hannah the information. “So I guess if she agreed to meet with me, she doesn’t th
ink I’m just being paranoid.”

  “No. No, she doesn’t. Maggie talked to a Chicago detective. Frankie, this is serious,” Hannah said and her voice was filled with concern. “There’s no easy way to say this. Tyler was shot. It happened not far from his friend’s apartment.”

  “Oh my God! Is he okay?” Even as the words came out of her mouth, Frankie knew.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetie. He’s dead.”

  26

  Florida Panhandle

  Brodie didn’t mean to interrupt Hannah’s phone conversation. Hannah gestured for her to come into the kitchen then pointed to the freshly baked cookies. That was the aroma that had brought her back downstairs. Brodie still couldn’t get used to things like this. Not just baked goods, fresh out of the oven and set there on the counter, but the idea that she could take one whenever she wanted.

  “You get some sleep, sweetie,” Hannah told the caller.

  Brodie noticed that Hannah called several people “sweetie,” but she called Brodie, “Sweet Pea.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Finished, Hannah looked at Brodie and said, “I don’t know about you, but I could sure use a glass of milk and a cookie. How about joining me?”

  Brodie nodded.

  “Grab a couple of small plates. I’ll get the milk.”

  Brodie washed her hands at the sink. Some days she wondered if she would ever feel clean enough. Thankfully, no one gave her a hard time about it, except for Thomas, Hannah’s younger son, and usually it was only because he didn’t want anyone expecting him to wash his hands.

  The cookies were still warm, the chocolate gooey and the edges crispy.

  “Was that your friend, Frankie?” Brodie asked.

  Hannah nodded.

  Over dinner, she had told Brodie about her childhood friend, that she was in some trouble and might be staying with them for a few days. Isaac and Thomas were excited. They called her Aunt Frankie. But Hannah seemed concerned that it was okay with Brodie.

  Which was yet another thing Brodie wasn’t used to—people asking and caring about her opinion. First, it was Ryder asking if it was okay for him to leave and now this. Brodie wished they didn’t worry so much. She wished they didn’t try so hard. She didn’t want to be a burden.

  It reminded her of the day she arrived. At lunch everyone had been talking, asking polite questions, but mostly just making conversation. Suddenly, she realized they had all stopped and were staring at her plate. She had dismantled her sandwich, separating the bread, tomato, lettuce, cheese and turkey. Then she carefully put it back together again and started breaking it into bite-size pieces. At first, she thought maybe she shouldn’t be using her fingers. Was that why they were staring at her? But everyone else had their sandwiches in their hands.

  It was Hannah who finally asked if everything was okay.

  “Would you like something different?” she offered.

  Brodie couldn’t imagine what would be more delicious. It even had mayo on it and the bread was fresh, no green mold or flecks of insects. Iris Malone often hid drugs in Brodie’s food, sometimes sneaking it in her favorites. Brodie hated the way the pills made her feel—not just groggy, but her body felt like it was disconnected from her brain.

  “I’m sorry,” Brodie had finally told them when she knew she’d never be able to explain. She remembered how her fingers stilled, and her eyes stayed on her plate all the while feeling the flush of embarrassment. Soon she heard laughter and she wanted to crawl under the table.

  “Well, it looks like you started a new trend,” Ryder said.

  When Brodie looked up she saw that Isaac and Thomas had started breaking their sandwiches into small pieces and popping them into their mouths. It took her a minute to recognize the young boys weren’t mocking her. They were enjoying a fun new way to eat their lunch.

  In the weeks since then, Brodie realized she was becoming a bit of a hero—a strange unconventional hero—to Hannah’s two boys. It wasn’t just granting them permission to break up their food and eat with their fingers. There were other things. Two days ago she’d killed a spider on their bedroom wall using the palm of her hand.

  Their mouths dropped open, and their eyes were so wide that Brodie immediately asked, “What? Was it poisonous?”

  Though she was pretty sure it wasn’t. As a girl growing up in the South, she had memorized what every poisonous spider and snake looked like. It had actually come in handy when she was confined to outdoor sheds and later, the basement prison.

  It was ironic that Isaac and Thomas thought of her as a hero. They had no idea how much she had relied on them. One of her first lessons on manners came from Isaac. He kicked her under the table when she didn’t immediately follow his example of saying, “thank you.” Brodie hated to admit it, but she felt most comfortable with the two little boys. They didn’t treat her like she might shatter into tiny pieces. And despite being twenty-seven years old, she knew her mind and social manners were probably more on their level than her adult counterparts.

  Now, as Hannah sat across the table from her, Brodie could see she was still concerned about her friend. She had heard more of the conversation than she wanted to confess. But she wanted to make Hannah feel better. She’d done so much to make her feel welcome in her home.

  “You make the best cookies,” Brodie told her.

  “Thank you, Sweet Pea. These are your brother’s favorites, too.”

  “Have you heard from him?”

  “Not since earlier. But they’ve been showing pictures on the news of the damage. Lord, have mercy! It’s a miracle there weren’t more deaths.”

  “Ryder and Grace, they’re like heroes, aren’t they?”

  “Grace is, indeed, a special little dog. And your brother...well, he certainly has a gift with dogs. He knows dogs better than he knows people. And he’s definitely more comfortable with them than he is with people.”

  “Jason says you can trust dogs more than you can trust people.”

  Hannah looked at her as if giving it some consideration then said, “Yes, I imagine that’s true.”

  “Did Jason and Scout leave, too?”

  “Yes, Sweet Pea. It’s just you, me and the boys.” Hannah paused before she added, “Until your mom gets here tomorrow.”

  She could feel Hannah’s eyes stay on her, but Brodie’s strayed out the window. She didn’t want to think about her mother. The thought made her sick to her stomach. It reminded her of all the lies Iris Malone had told her. For years, Brodie had no idea they were lies. Even now, for some reason she couldn’t stop her body from reacting.

  Outside, dark clouds were ruining the sunset. She noticed they were gathering in the same spot as this morning. The same spot where Creed and Jason had gone.

  “Will they be safe?”

  She expected Hannah to reassure her, but the woman was already tense, worrying about her friend, so Brodie shouldn’t have been surprised when Hannah said, “I pray to God they are.”

  Something in Hannah’s tone made Brodie feel a sense of urgency. Her pulse started racing. Her eyes darted around the kitchen. She realized she didn’t know where Kitten had gone. How could she have lost track?

  “She’s right here,” Hannah told Brodie, knowing exactly what Brodie was looking for without a single word exchanged.

  Hannah scooped up the kitten from under the table and deposited the ball of fur on Brodie’s lap.

  “Have you thought any more about names?”

  “Names?” Brodie’s fingers stroked the cat’s soft fur, willing her mind to reset to calm.

  In the beginning when she first found the kitten, Brodie would panic any time it was out of her sight. She’d never had someone she loved so much that it hurt like a kick to the stomach just to imagine losing her.

  “Seems like she deserves a better name than Kitten,” Hannah said.

  Brodie tried to release the tension buckled between her shoulders. Kitten was fine. She was fine. She was in a warm, safe house eating cookies with a wom
an she could trust not to hurt her.

  “How did you come up with the name Grace?” Brodie asked.

  “That was easy,” Hannah waved a hand at her like she was swatting a fly. “When Ryder found her, she was all skin and bones. Poor thing looked beat down. First time I saw her I told him it was by amazing grace that dog was alive. Almost immediately, we began calling her Grace. What was the first thing that came to mind when you saw Kitten?”

  “I was glad she wasn’t a rat.”

  Hannah stared at her for a second then she burst out laughing. Brodie caught herself smiling. She loved the sound of Hannah’s laughter. It was like listening to music.

  27

  Southern Alabama

  Creed was relieved when he saw Jason’s SUV making its way through the barricades.

  Two volunteers and another state trooper had taken Baby Garner. Michael and Elizabeth Garner were the names on the car seat with an address in Richmond, Virginia. Trooper Sykes confirmed that the driver’s license they’d found on the passenger was that of Michael Garner. At this point, they could only presume that Elizabeth had been driving.

  Grace had put the volunteers through a thorough inspection before she was satisfied enough to release the baby to the pair. Since then, Creed and Grace had walked a grid in the field, spanning out from the crumpled vehicle and tackling about a hundred-foot radius. This was after they’d walked the entire line of fallen pine trees twice.

  Grace went through the motions, but she hadn’t latched onto another scent cone. Creed worried that she’d gotten too overheated and too worked up over the crying baby. In this kind of heat and humidity Creed always kept an eye on his dogs. He restricted Grace to twenty-minute searches followed by thirty-minute breaks. She usually fussed about the breaks, but now she appeared bored.

  He led her to a grassy patch, free of debris and pulled out her water dish. She did a lazy-sit and stared over his shoulder. She was distracted. She sniffed the air then stood back up. Creed recognized her agitation.