Hidden Creed Read online

  But handlers also needed to know which way the wind was blowing, how the humidity could push down a scent, which direction a missing person with dementia would instinctively go.

  Of course, nothing taught better lessons than experience. Creed had lost track of how many searches and recoveries he’d done over the last seven years. He’d started the business in search of Brodie, hoping he’d someday find her remains. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected to bring her home alive.

  He was so grateful to have her in his life again. But he realized he’d replaced relief with a new concern, a new responsibility. He wanted to protect her. Keep her safe. Make sure she was okay. He wanted to make sure the PTSD wouldn’t destroy her chance for happiness; that her nightmares wouldn’t prevent her from having a regular life. It was a struggle for him to do that and not smother her. He didn’t want her to feel like a butterfly captured in a jar.

  At the thought of Brodie, Creed pulled out his cell phone. She should have made it back by now, but there were no messages from Hannah. He had wandered out of range.

  “Grace.”

  Immediately he heard a rustling in the shrubs.

  “Come on, girl. Time for a break.”

  As they treaded back to the clearing his cell phone started pinging. Text messages came in, one after another. All of them from Hannah. They came in rapid succession as if to match the urgency of her words.

  SOMEONE FOLLOWED BRODIE.

  CHASED HER.

  SHE’S OKAY.

  BE CAREFUL.

  His eyes darted through the trees. How did he miss someone watching them?

  Grace had tried to get his attention, nudging his arm when he found the skull. But she was used to other people being around the search sites.

  Now, he kept her in his peripheral vision as he continued to scan the surroundings. He pulled out her collapsible water bowl and filled it for her then drank the rest of the bottle as he listened.

  Birds chirped. Mosquitoes buzzed. The breeze rustled leaves. He didn’t hear anything that didn’t belong. Except for the steady drone of flies.

  Creed glanced down as a couple more messages came in from Hannah.

  SHERIFF NORWICH JUST ARRIVED.

  M.E. IS HERE, TOO.

  I’LL LET YOU KNOW WHEN THEY HEAD BACK IN.

  He brushed his hand over his bristled jaw trying to relax it. He could take care of himself and Grace. But Brodie...he should never have sent her back by herself.

  Chapter 12

  Blackwater River State Forest

  Maggie O’Dell was grateful she’d packed hiking gear. Even in the middle of June she’d learned from past experience that trips to the Florida Panhandle or Alabama could mean unexpected adventure. She rubbed her arm. The ache had finally receded, but the memory was still fresh. In March, just outside of Montgomery, Alabama, she’d gotten trapped in the basement of a meat and three when a tornado plowed through the restaurant.

  A fellow FBI agent, Antonio Alonzo had given her a framed drone shot of the wreckage. He had presented it to her as if it was now supposed to be a symbol of inspiration or a trophy of survival. She’d put it up in her basement office at Quantico. But every time she looked at it, all she could feel was the suffocating claustrophobia, the debris raining down and the electrical charge that was still so strong she could taste it.

  Right now, she told herself that she should be pleased to be outside in the open air despite the humidity. But the truth was, this forest brought a whole other set of memories.

  Several years ago a madman’s scheme had brought Maggie and her FBI partner, R.J. Tully to Blackwater River State Park in search of his buried victims. But it was only a trick. There were no bodies. What he really wanted was to hunt Maggie down and bury her deep in the woods.

  Ironically, that case was the first time she and Ryder Creed had worked together. Maggie didn’t dwell in nostalgia. She wasn’t superstitious either. But she was having an overwhelming sense of déjà vu right now, and she didn’t like it. Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing. It put her senses on high alert.

  “Brodie, are you certain there’s not an easier path?” Sheriff Norwich asked, her breathing labored.

  Only ten minutes into their hike, and Maggie saw the sheriff’s chin-length hair was already wet and sticking to her neck. The branches had snagged and tilted the woman’s ball cap enough times for Maggie to pull her own down tighter onto her head.

  “The shorter path is steeper,” Brodie explained. “This one at least has these animal paths.”

  Maggie glanced back at Vickie, who was bringing up the rear, spray can in hand. For a second they exchanged the same unspoken thought, what paths? There wasn’t a section yet that didn’t require high-stepping brush and dodging low-hanging branches.

  One thing Maggie was sure of, Brodie knew this trail well and was forcing herself to slow down. Their pace, especially Sheriff Norwich’s, was holding the young woman back. Several times Brodie had skimmed over the shrubs and glided between the trees, getting ahead of them so far, she needed to stop and backtrack, or wait in place. It was easy to see the forest was second nature to Brodie, but she was uncomfortable in her role as guide.

  It was if Brodie didn’t realize that her knowledge of their surroundings wasn’t common sense for the rest of them. Halfway through, she started pointing out things, matter-of-factly: a snake camouflaged on a tree’s bark; a tangle of shrubs with sharp thorns; an area of poison ivy and a huge spider’s web.

  “Don’t break the spider web,” Brodie insisted. “Duck under it if you can. They catch mosquitoes and yellow flies.”

  Maggie tugged at the bandana on her neck, realizing she hadn’t felt a single bite. When Hannah handed them out to each of them, the fabric was still damp with the magic concoction she had created to repel biting bugs. Unfortunately, Maggie knew all too well, it couldn’t prevent snake or scorpion bites or even fire ants. Taking a hike in a Florida forest was definitely different than her regular jogs through the woods in Virginia.

  The canopy above created more shadow than allowed light. Maggie tucked her sunglasses into her shirt pocket. The bandana wasn’t the only thing damp. Her T-shirt stuck to her skin, and her holster harness started to feel like a straitjacket. The humidity was so thick it made it difficult to breathe, and she was in good shape. Maggie worried about Sheriff Norwich. The woman was stocky and perhaps in her late fifties, maybe sixty. The forest was alive with the sounds of birds and frogs and yet, Maggie could hear Norwich’s raspy breathing from three feet behind.

  By contrast, every time she glanced back at Vickie, the medical examiner looked unfazed even with the loaded backpack. Once when they stopped for a water break, Vickie joked that she had gotten used to the fact that she couldn’t just drive up to a crime scene. Although they all agreed that this killer had gone above and beyond most others.

  In fact, Maggie had dealt with all kinds of places killers dumped their victims. From one who displayed his victims on DC’s monuments in full view of tourists to another who encased them in fifty-gallon drums then hid them in an abandoned rock quarry.

  As a criminal profiler she was supposed to take as much information as she could gather and come up with a mental and physical profile of the killer. But the farther they walked and the thicker the forest became, she realized it didn’t take an expert to know one thing for certain.

  Without seeing the crime scene or examining a single victim, Maggie knew if the man who chased Brodie was the killer, he definitely wouldn’t be happy to see a parade of investigators invade his burial grounds. Question was: what was he willing to do to stop them?

  Chapter 13

  The more Creed discovered, the more he wished Brodie wasn’t coming back with the investigators. Maybe he could figure out a way to send her back without looking dismissive or overprotective. There was enough here to challenge a seasoned law enforcement officer, let alone, someone who had never experienced a crime scene.

  Grace kept alerting. She hadn’t sto
pped since Brodie left.

  Creed was beginning to think this place looked like a scene from the Body Farm. The original project at the University of Tennessee took donors’ bodies and deposited them out in open fields, sometimes in the trunks of cars or submerged them under water. It allowed forensic students to examine corpses at various stages of decay. It supplied criminal investigators with data they’d only been able to piece together in the past.

  From what Creed could tell, this killer might have been dumping bodies here for years. Creed didn’t have a law enforcement background, but he’d witnessed the different stages of decomposition. He had seen how maggots could devour a victim’s identity. And he knew that wildlife could leave experts wondering whether the killer had disarticulated a body or animals had helped themselves to parts.

  The skull Grace had found down in the hollow space below the tree roots, looked like it had no tissue or hair left. Creed knew that hair was one of the last things that stayed attached, although it was also one of the things wildlife scavenged for nests and dens. From what he had seen, the skullcap was all that was left. Which could mean the body had been dumped here years ago.

  The killer had obviously taken drastic measures to transport his victims deep into the forest. He wanted them hidden, and yet, Creed was surprised by the malicious disregard in the way he’d left them. Granted it was difficult to dig a hole in the middle of a forest with tree roots trailing everywhere. But even in the clearing where it would have been easier to dig, the bodies were barely covered or left in the grass.

  Creed knew how isolated this area was. There were no hiking trails. He was pretty sure it wasn’t detailed on any maps of the forest. He practically lived next door and had never ventured this far into these woods.

  Creed stood back, exhausted. He needed Grace to stop again. He called for her to join him in the shade. Reluctantly she came, her front paws shifting and waiting for permission to resume. The scents were overwhelming, and she wanted to keep working. She was impatient with his enforced limitations. But they were approaching the peak of the day, and his main concern now was keeping her hydrated and her body temp down. Even in the shade it was impossible to escape the heat. The humidity kept it stuck to his body. There wasn’t a hint of a breeze.

  He checked the ground around them for fire ants. He brushed his fingers through the dried leaves and pine needles, scattering the tiny frogs hidden underneath. Then he gestured for Grace to sit while he pulled out her collapsible bowl, along with a bottle of water. Again, he filled the bowl and put it down for her as he drank the remaining half.

  He scanned the surroundings, continuing to search for the watcher. His eyes stopped and settled on the body Brodie had stumbled over. The flies were unrelenting, newcomers descending, crawling and disappearing into the victim’s hair or between the folds of clothing. Other flies were already busy laying their eggs.

  Burying a corpse under a pile of debris or deep in the ground delayed decomposition. Leaving it out in the open, or partially exposed, allowed the elements of nature to eliminate, devour, disassemble and scatter it. Until there was nothing left. The insects, birds and wildlife were all willing accomplices. Creed was certain it was exactly what the killer intended.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket. No matter how excited and capable Grace was, the heat and the amount of remains would require another dog.

  To Hannah, he texted:

  I’M GONNA NEED JASON AND SCOUT.

  He barely pressed send and his phone pinged with an incoming message. Grace’s ears pitched forward, and she looked over her shoulder. She heard something other than the phone. Creed thought he heard it, too.

  Two more pings.

  The messages must have gotten delayed from the on-again, off-again reception. Either his message or his movement had triggered them. Now in the clearing they were coming all at once.

  That’s when he heard and recognized Brodie’s voice. Grace stood and turned in the direction, tail wagging, but she stayed next to Creed.

  He could see flashes of red, bobbing between the trees. Hannah’s red kerchiefs. He glanced down at her messages.

  THEY’RE ON THEIR WAY.

  THE M.E. BROUGHT SOMEONE WITH HER.

  I SENT SANDWICHES AND MORE WATER.

  That was Hannah, making sure they were all fed.

  JASON AND SCOUT WILL COME LATER AND LEAD THE DEPUTIES.

  Creed was still smiling about Hannah packing lunch for everyone, when he looked up and saw just who Dr. Kammerer had brought along.

  Chapter 14

  “Maggie, how in the world did you get roped into this?” Creed asked as he shook the other investigators’ hands before giving Maggie a hug. “I didn’t expect to see you until dinner,” he said quietly, close to her ear. Close enough that his lips brushed against her skin.

  If she was embarrassed by his display of affection, she didn’t show it. She hugged him back then smiled at him when he pulled away. He held her at arms length to get a good look at her.

  “Seemed like a good day for a hike,” she said, mopping her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Then she kneeled down to say hello to an impatient Grace.

  “It’s never a good day for a hike in the middle of June,” Sheriff Norwich said.

  “Actually, it’s my fault. I brought her to the party,” Dr. Kammerer said. “That was before I realized the crime scene was literary in the middle of the forest. But I have to admit, it doesn’t smell as bad as I expected.”

  Creed kept his eyes on the sheriff. She was red-faced and breathing heavy even as she guzzled water. He pulled out an instant cold pack from his emergency gear. Punched the bag in the center then shook it. He wrapped it in a cloth and handed it to her.

  “Hold this in the palm of your hand,” he told her. “Or put it against your cheek.”

  Creed looked for signs of heatstroke. Her shirt was drenched with sweat. That was a good sign. Perspiration helped cool the body. Dogs didn’t have that mechanism. When Norwich still didn’t take the pack, he added, “You can fold it over the back of your neck. Just for a few minutes.”

  She continued to stare at it for another second or two, but as soon as her fingers touched it, her eyes lit up.

  “You are a lifesaver,” she told him, shoving it under her collar.

  He hoped it was soon enough. Heatstroke could hit quickly in dogs. He didn’t have as much experience with people.

  “So give me a rundown, Mr. Creed,” Dr. Kammerer said. She was examining the site, hands on her hips and turning in place.

  “Call me Ryder.”

  “Fair enough. Then call me Vickie.” She waved her hand over the area. “I’m seeing lots of flags. Your girl was busy.”

  “Her name’s Grace.”

  At the mention of her name, the little dog understood the medical examiner was talking about her, and she pranced in place. When Vickie offered her hand, Creed gestured to Grace that it was okay to go to her.

  “Aren’t you a good girl,” the woman squatted down to Grace’s level and scratched behind the dog’s ears, even as she glanced up at Creed for an answer.

  He’d worked with Sheriff Norwich, but this was his first time with the medical examiner. She was new to Florida’s District 1, but Creed had heard good things about her. Before he responded, he looked over at Brodie searching for some signal, a hint of how she was dealing with all of this. He stopped himself from wincing at the sight of the new scratches on her face. As far as he could tell, she seemed anxious to hear about Grace’s findings, too.

  “Two bodies.” He nodded in one direction then the other. “There appear to be other remains in various stages of decomp.”

  The flags could be seen not just in the clearing, but between the trees inside the woods. Their bright orange stood out, but what they marked remained hidden.

  “Grace alerts to decomp?”

  “Actually any human remains.”

  “Bones?”

  “Yes,” Creed answered.

  “Rec
ent as well as old?”

  “She wasn’t specifically trained for old, but she found a skull down in a hollow underneath some tree roots.” He pointed back over his shoulder.

  “Impressive,” the medical examiner said.

  “It’s still going to be too much for her in this heat. I called in another dog and handler.”

  Creed watched her eyes, looking for resistance. He’d worked with medical examiners and coroners who were happy to have a dog locate a body but then wanted the rest to be left for the crime scene techs.

  There was something that flashed in Vickie’s eyes as they darted away from his. Creed didn’t think it was resistance. Instead, she looked like she was only now realizing the magnitude of what they might find.

  Finally her eyes returned, and she said, “How many victims do you think are here?”

  “I can’t tell you that,” Creed said. “But one thing is certain. Grace isn’t close to being finished.”

  Chapter 15

  Pensacola, Florida

  Kayla Hudson barely got Luke home from the hospital, and her phone started ringing. It was a number she didn’t recognize. Immediately, her mind went to the negative. Did one of Luke’s tests show something else?

  “Hello?” she answered.

  “Kayla, I’m glad I got a hold of you.”

  It was Eric, but he was whispering. She could hardly hear him.

  “Eric, I thought you had to schedule phone calls.”

  In all honestly, she hadn’t really listened to the rules. She figured it was about time he took responsibility for remembering what the hell he needed to do. After all, she wasn’t going to be there to make sure he followed all the things they asked of him.

  “They don’t know I have a phone.” Still a whisper. “I borrowed it. Listen, you have to get me out of here.”