Lost Creed

  “Maybe that’s why the experts use real dogs,” the sheriff told her, “instead of scrawny little terriers.”

  “She didn’t alert to the roadkill,” Creed said in a calm tone that made Maggie check his eyes then his hands. She was relieved to see that his fingers weren’t balled up into fists. She wouldn’t have blamed him if he were angry, but she also knew he was used to defending the stature of his dogs.

  “The scent of a dead animal is different,” he explained, “than the scent of a decomposing body.”

  “Well, she must have gotten confused.” The sheriff shook his head. “I can’t believe we wasted a whole day. If we leave now we can make it home before the next round of rain.”

  While Timmons stomped around Maggie watched Dunn. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the hole with the dead animal.

  “There’s something underneath,” Creed told them. “It’s a common mistake killers make.”

  This time Dunn’s eyes flicked to Creed then to Grace and back to the mound of fur. The state troopers stood silently, one on each side of the prisoner.

  “Don’t make excuses for your dog,” the sheriff said, pacing back and forth. “Let’s pack up and get the hell out of here.”

  “He’s right,” Maggie said while staring at Dunn. The man seemed mesmerized.

  She reminded herself that serial killers often returned to the scenes of their crimes, sometimes even to watch law enforcement officers process the evidence. They enjoyed seeing and hearing experts talk about their handiwork, just like Dunn was doing now.

  “Mr. Creed is right,” she continued. “Killers have been known to leave roadkill on top of graves, hoping it’ll throw off a scent dog.”

  “We won’t know until we look,” Lucy said and bent down, again.

  “Hold on, Ms. Coy,” Trooper Vegaz stopped her.

  Maggie had noticed the troopers had treated Lucy with respect even yesterday at the lake. Neither Gregory nor Vegaz would allow their former teacher, the former medical examiner to help them wrap and secure the corpse. Now, Vegaz marched forward to remove the dead animal carcass.

  “Just a minute,” Sheriff Timmons told him, and he jutted his chin toward Dunn. “Let him haul away his own dead raccoon from the hole.”

  “It’s no problem,” Trooper Vegaz said, and he accepted the canvas gloves Lucy handed him as she stepped away to make room for him.

  They’d need another evidence bag. Maggie headed to where they’d left the duffle bag, close to the first two sites. Maybe it was silly to treat the roadkill like evidence, but she had learned long ago to leave nothing behind.

  Her back was turned when the explosion knocked her to her knees.

  Chapter 59

  The noise made Charlotte scramble up onto the kitchen counter. This time, she took off her socks and barely needed the chair she had left up against the cabinets. The day before, she had seen the kitten pouncing up onto the table then to the counter, and she realized if she did the same, she could see out of the small window high above the sink.

  Without the drugs, Charlotte was feeling stronger despite the sick dread after reading Kristel’s letter. She wondered how many years Iris had locked Kristel in rooms and closets and sheds before she sent her to the Christmas house for the man named Eli to take her away. And she wondered where Kristel was now.

  Since reading the letter Charlotte found herself on edge. Every sound, every flicker of light seemed to scrape her nerves raw. The thunder and lightning had unsettled her so much that she had curled up into a corner until the kitten came to bother her. The silly creature wanted to eat all the time.

  But this last noise was not thunder.

  Standing on the kitchen counter, Charlotte could see up over the cornfields that surrounded the house. Far off in the distance, she saw what looked like a road. She wanted to spend all her time just looking out and watching, but her muscles began to ache, and her knees threatened to buckle, so she reluctantly got down.

  She heard voices earlier. And a car engine. At first, she thought she must have imagined it, but for many years she had depended on and trained her hearing to compensate for what she wasn’t allowed to see.

  She’d climbed up to peek out the window and was startled to see Aaron as he got into a pickup. The sight startled her so much she ducked and almost toppled off the counter. She forced herself to look again just in time to see him drive away.

  She wondered how long it would be before Aaron and the other man would come for her. According to Kristel, it wouldn’t be long now. Charlotte had come up with a plan, but it still scared her. She’d even practiced a couple of times, counting to herself to see how many seconds she needed from the time she heard Aaron. She dragged the kitchen table in front of the back door to buy herself extra time. In case he used the front door, he’d need to move the heavy old recliner first.

  That had to be hours ago that she had seen him drive off. But she was listening for his return. Somehow she knew he’d be coming back soon. The storm may have delayed him. And then came that loud noise.

  She stretched on tiptoes, and that’s when she saw movement down below. The pickup.

  He was back!

  She wasn’t ready.

  Suddenly, she heard the slamming of the pickup door.

  It was happening! He was coming for her.

  She scrambled down off the counter, bumping her knee and ignoring the pain. She raced to the other room and realized she was counting in her head. Already up to ten, eleven, twelve . . . she’d never done it in less than thirty-four seconds.

  She heard the metallic rattle of a lock. The back door. Then the clack of the doorknob.

  Hurry, she told herself, as her fingers fumbled.

  A bump as the door opened against the table.

  A curse. Another bump. A crack of wood against wood. Another curse and he was inside.

  Charlotte watched Aaron move from the kitchen to the first room. Even if she was lucky enough for him to not see her, she was certain he’d be able to hear the banging of her heart. Thankfully, the kitten had gotten so frightened of Charlotte running and the crashing at the back door that she raced to hide under the bed. In her mad dash, Charlotte took three precious seconds to close the bedroom door to protect the cat from what was about to happen.

  You’ll be okay, she promised the kitten in her mind.

  I’m doing this for you and for me.

  Aaron stopped in the doorway and she could see him blinking. The clouds had made it dark inside the house. Not too dark for Charlotte, but for someone coming in from the outside, it would require some adjustment.

  She held her breath and watched, not daring to move a muscle. She couldn’t afford to flinch. But the closer he got, the more difficult it was to stay completely still.

  He was taller and bigger than she remembered, broad shoulders with long arms. His silhouette reminded her of Iris, a stalking hulk that moved slowly but with stealth. He looked straight at her, and Charlotte was sure that her heart had stopped beating. Then he turned and looked behind the Christmas tree.

  He hadn’t seen her.

  It was working.

  She needed to stay calm. Wait for him to get closer.

  He swung around and stared hard at the plastic reindeer in the corner. Now, Charlotte could see that his hands were empty. She was relieved that he hadn’t brought a weapon.

  A few more steps and he walked right passed her.

  She was glad that she had washed herself no matter how cold the water had been. And she had taken the scissors and cut off her hair. There was such a relief, a sense of freedom, watching all those long greasy tangles fall into the sink. Had she not cleaned herself, Aaron probably could have smelled her.

  But now, she wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t be able to hear the pounding of her heart. Her chest ached and her lungs felt like they would burst soon if she didn??
?t let them breathe normally instead of the short, silent in-takes.

  His back was facing her. He had walked right by and hadn’t even seen her sitting in the rocking chair. He didn’t notice that Santa was a bit scrawnier. Nor had he noticed the pair of scissors tucked up into the cuff of his red jacket.

  Charlotte pounced up and out of the chair just like she had practiced. She jumped onto his back and drove the metal blades of the scissors into the fleshy part of Aaron’s neck. He bucked and howled, but she hung on. His arms thrashed about, and he reached back, clawing at her, trying to find something to grab. Blood spattered her face, but she dodged his big hands.

  Then he did something she hadn’t expected. He pushed himself backward and slammed her into the wall. Her head cracked so hard she heard plaster crumble and saw stars as she slid down Aaron’s back. Her legs betrayed her, folding under, her knees useless. Before she could do anything, she saw the syringe.

  So he had brought a weapon, after all.

  He plunged the needle into her arm. Then she saw him look at his hands. And she saw the look on his face when he noticed all the blood. He reached up his fingers to where the blades stuck out of his neck. He gripped his hand around the scissors, groaned and pulled them out.

  Big mistake.

  Even Charlotte knew that before the blood started spurting out.

  From the floor, she watched his eyes, and now Aaron knew he’d made a mistake, too. He clamped his big hand around the wound and pressed down. He wobbled, and she thought he would fall beside her. He stumbled then seemed to regain his balance.

  She watched him stagger toward the kitchen while she tried to get to her feet.

  She couldn’t let him get out the door. She tried to crawl but her knees wouldn’t cooperate. The drug seeped into her veins, keeping her limbs from working.

  The door slammed.

  No, wait! Aaron wait!

  Even her voice didn’t work.

  She heard the locks click and clack back into place.

  Suddenly, Charlotte found herself hoping and praying that the man she had tried to kill would not leave her behind and go off and die.

  Chapter 60

  The force was so strong that Creed flew backwards and was now staring up at the clouds. His chest and head throbbed. His ears were ringing. He’d gotten the wind knocked out of him, and his first panicked shout for Grace struggled to make it out of his throat.

  Then he heard the scream.

  Creed rolled to his side and pushed up on one elbow. Everything was blurry but he still saw Trooper Vegaz writhing on the ground not ten feet away. He was clutching a bloody pulp where his right hand used to be.

  Creed wiped at the blur only to get double vision. He dragged his arm and shirtsleeve over his face. The shirtsleeve came away stained with dirt and blood.

  “Grace,” he called again, twisting his neck to see over the tall grass. “Maggie?”

  There was a lot of movement around him. Scuffles behind him. He managed to get to his knees when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “Are you okay?”

  It was Maggie’s voice, but when Creed looked back there were still two of her. He shook his head.

  “Please help me find Grace.” He tried to get to his feet and stumbled back down on hands and knees.

  “She’s okay,” Maggie told him, so close now he could feel her breath in his ear. “Stay down for a few minutes.”

  “I need to find Grace.” He squeezed his eyes tight and started to crawl on his hands and knees.

  “She’s right here.” Maggie stopped him and suddenly he felt her hands pushing something under him.

  He opened his eyes and there was the dog, her head pushing up against his chest. The billow of his shirt tented her in. She was trembling but poked her nose up and licked his chin.

  “Just slow down.” He heard Maggie’s voice again, but she was farther away.

  She wasn’t talking to him now. He blinked again and shook his head, but stayed on his hands and knees, now more as a protection to Grace. Also, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to stand up just yet.

  He looked over at Trooper Vegaz and saw that Lucy Coy was kneeling at the man’s side. She was wrapping something around his hand, but the fabric was already soaked with blood. Creed tilted his head in the direction he heard Maggie, and saw that she was standing just a few feet from him.

  “Let him go,” Maggie said.

  Creed leaned his weight back to sit on his haunches. He pulled Grace against him while his hands ran the length of her body, his fingers checking for injuries and blood. He put her down in the grass beside him, keeping her tight at his side. He tapped the ground and Grace lay down. She wasn’t trembling anymore now that she was focused on him.

  From this vantage point he could see what was going on. And finally, his eyesight was cooperating.

  Eli Dunn had a gun to Trooper Gregory’s temple. He was still in shackles but somehow during the explosion he had managed to grab the trooper’s sidearm. Gregory was on his knees. Dunn stood behind him with an arm around the trooper’s throat. It was a haphazard attempt to subdue the big man, one that Dunn wouldn’t be able to maintain for long. Already, Creed could see Dunn’s hand with the gun swaying away.

  Maggie was in front of the two men, her hands at her sides, trying to talk to Dunn. Even with his vision slowly focusing, Creed could see the manic frenzy on Dunn’s face. Instead of looking at Maggie, Eli Dunn was staring at Sheriff Timmons. The sheriff was off to his side, and almost behind them. He had his weapon drawn and was pointing it directly at the prisoner.

  “Drop the gun,” Timmons shouted at him.

  “You all tricked me,” Dunn shouted back.

  “Let Trooper Gregory go,” Maggie told him, “and we’ll talk about what comes next.”

  “No way.” He shot a look at Maggie. “I trusted you. We had a deal. You tricked me.”

  His eyes flitted up and over to steal a look at Trooper Vegaz. Then Creed could see his grip weaken. His arm slipped, and Gregory took advantage. He thumped his elbow back, knocking Dunn backwards.

  Without even thinking, Creed pushed off his feet and launched his body just as the first gunshot was fired.

  Chapter 61

  Maggie should have seen it coming. The night of the raid, Eli Dunn had set tripwires. How could she have forgotten the smell of ammonia? He had called it his alarm system, so he’d know when they entered his front yard.

  He’d done it, again. Tricked her. Even the magpie had tried to warn her.

  Now, they’d never know how Dunn had pulled it off, because this time, instead of riding in the back of a State Patrol SUV, Dunn would be heading back to Omaha in a body bag.

  She reminded herself that this was a man who was crazy enough to drive a car onto the iced surface of a lake with the sole purpose of disposing of the body in the trunk. It didn’t seem like a stretch to imagine that same man planting explosives in the carcass of a dead animal and placing it on top of one of his buried victims.

  She rubbed her lower back as she stood in the middle of the pasture. Maggie watched the last of the rescue units leave as more state troopers, a bomb squad and the Douglas County Crime Lab’s mobile unit arrived. The last of the clouds moved out and dusk turned the sky deep blue. Floodlights and headlights lit up the pasture.

  A Life Flight helicopter had airlifted Trooper Vegaz. The crew had allowed Lucy to accompany him. The rest of them: Trooper Gregory, Sheriff Timmons, Grace and herself had minor cuts and scrapes. Lucy and Creed had been the closest to the explosion. Trooper Vegaz’s body had sheltered Lucy from the blast. Creed had done the same for Grace. He had to be in pain, and still, he’d found the strength to tackle Maggie and cover her with his own body when the shooting began. She wasn’t sure if Eli Dunn had intended to shoot her, but Sheriff Timmons didn’t give him a second chance.

 
Maggie tried to convince Creed to let the rescue squad take him to the ER. She suspected he had a concussion, possibly a broken rib. But he told them he was fine. However, he didn’t argue when Maggie insisted on driving his Jeep as they headed back to Omaha.

  The first forty minutes they rode in silence. Maggie hoped Creed had fallen asleep. She found herself playing the scene in her mind over and over again, trying to make sense of the chaos. It was useless. She couldn’t change the outcome, and yet, all day something had nagged at her. She kept thinking she was missing something and thought she might find the answers in Dunn’s notebook.

  “What did he mean about you tricking him?” Creed said suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Just before Timmons shot him. Dunn said you tricked him.”

  “I’m not sure what he meant. He said something about our deal.” She wished she could remember his exact words. But Creed was right. Dunn had accused her of tricking him. “We’ll never know. I didn’t want him to go to prison and take the secret of where he’d buried your sister with him. Now, he’s taking it to his grave. If Brodie isn’t buried in that pasture, we might never find her.”

  She glanced at him, but all she could see was his profile in the blue light of the dashboard.

  “There might not even be a body buried there,” he said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It just occurred to me. Grace might have alerted to the explosives.”

  “But there was blood at the first two sites.”

  “She’s a multi-task dog.” He reached his hand back over the console to pet Grace where she slept in her open crate. “She’s done it before. Alerted to something I didn’t ask her to find. Whatever kind of device he used, I’m sure she could smell it.”

  At the Embassy Suites they left each other in an exhausted silence, though it was obvious that neither one of them wanted to leave the other. They had spent the last several days together. So many hours. So many emotions. So many risks. How many times had they saved each other since they’d met two years ago?