Page 30 of Desperate Creed

Frankie followed the road signs and took an exit. She slowed down and watched to see who exited with her. Only one white car and when Frankie turned left, it turned right. Still, she drove a short ways and got back on the interstate. She took the next exit and relief washed over her when no one followed. And there in the near distance, she saw a sign for a luxury hotel brand she recognized. Six stories, a swanky lobby, room service, security cameras and keycard entrances. Everything a girl could want to feel safe and comforted. Yet, her eyes darted from one mirror to another.

“Are you back there somewhere, and I just can’t see you?”

22

Southern Alabama

The first site the response team wanted Creed and Grace to search no longer looked like a vehicle. It had been thrown about 500 feet off the interstate. A state trooper and Sheriff Norwich led the way. They could reach the wreckage only by foot. Much of the way was flooded by ankle-deep water, and Creed hiked Grace up under his arm. Debris floated along the oily surface that glistened with shattered glass. He took careful steps over splintered wood and shredded metal. The scent of diesel permeated the air even this far away from the ruptured fuel lines at the gas station.

As they got closer, Creed could see that all but one of the car’s tires had been sheared off. The hood and trunk were smashed in like a car crusher had prepared it for a garbage heap. The windows were gone, and in places even the paint had been peeled away. As Creed stood over the wreck he could see the roof looked like a huge claw had dragged over the top, cutting into the metal.

Though they had walked through running water to get to the vehicle, this section was dry. The tall grass around the smashed heap looked undisturbed. Creed examined the ground before he put Grace down and was surprised to find no pink insulation or shredded steel—not even a single piece of broken glass—tangled or deposited in the grass. It was as though the storm had sucked up the vehicle, chewed and battered and swallowed the pieces then spit out the empty hull. Creed realized that probably included the car’s passengers.

“There’s a body inside,” the state trooper told Creed as if reading his mind.

The man had introduced himself as Jim Sykes. He was as tall as Creed with a sun-weathered face, unflinching gray eyes and a confident gait that gave Creed the impression he had seen things as gruesome as today’s findings.

“It’s still strapped in.”

Creed lowered Grace to the ground, holding tight to her leash. She had on a vest that signaled to her that they would be searching for people—no drugs, no bird flu, no C. diff. Although, if Grace detected any of those, she would still alert. Multi-task dogs couldn’t help themselves. It wasn’t a credit to the trainer as much as the skill of the dog. In Grace’s case, Creed knew he was simply her anchor, protecting her and keeping her safe while she did her job. He’d never had a dog quite like Grace.

“What makes you think there was anyone else in the car?” Creed asked, keeping his eyes on Grace.

Her nose was up, sniffing and twitching. She had been testing the air the whole time he carried her, but now she was already working a scent. It was probably the body inside. Even Creed could smell the ripe decomp beginning in the sun-baked heat.

The trooper hadn’t answered yet, and Creed glanced up at him.

“The body’s still strapped in. On the passenger side.”

Norwich bent down to look inside the vehicle then jerked back and shook her head.

“I’ve seen plenty of car accidents in my day,” she said, “but I’m always shocked by what a tornado can do to a person.”

Creed took a good look and didn’t flinch. He expected the mangled corpse to resemble the victims he’d seen after IEDs. But this surprised him. The passenger’s seatbelt was buckled keeping him in place. The airbags hadn’t had a chance to inflate. The man’s shirt had been sucked off. Only the band of fabric around his neck was left, identifying that he had been wearing a blue crewneck T-shirt. His chest and face had been pelted with debris. Leaves and pine needles stuck to his skin. Pieces of glass and gravel were embedded like shrapnel. Something white like cotton had tangled into his hair. Streams of blood, now dried, had run from his ears and his nose.

The eyes were always what haunted Creed. Wide open, they conveyed the shock and horror of those last seconds.

“His wallet was still in his pocket,” Trooper Sykes told them. “We usually take digital photos, just of the face to make it easier on the families. But it’s always easier if we have a driver’s license.”

“Have you done that yet?”

“No, not until we’re finished. Or you tell us we’re finished.”

Creed glanced back into the vehicle. As if reading his mind, Trooper Sykes added, “Don’t worry. I’ll close his eyes.”

Grace tugged at the end of her leash. She was getting impatient at being ignored. Creed glanced down at her as he unzipped his daypack for her toy. He needed to praise his dog. If they found any blood or decomp material—even it wasn’t exactly what they’d been looking for—he rewarded his dogs. It reinforced their effort to continue searching. For the dog it was a game. If a handler wanted the dog to continue playing the game then it was important to not change the rules.

His fingers found Grace’s reward—her pink, squeaky elephant—inside the pack. But before he could pull it out, he realized Grace wasn’t alerting to the remains in the vehicle. She didn’t have time for the easy gimme. Grace had already moved on to another scent, and she wanted to go follow it...now.

“We’ve walked this entire area,” the trooper told Creed when he noticed Grace with her nose poking up. “You think she already smells something?”

“In a situation like this there’s a lot of scatter.”

“Scatter?”

Creed focused on Grace. Her whiskers were twitching. Her head bobbed as she breathed in, sampling the air. The sun was beating down, warming the air and making it rise, but the humidity would make it heavy, trapping it.

He glanced up to find both Trooper Sykes and Sheriff Norwich waiting for an explanation. Normally, he’d be more delicate in his response, but these two were seasoned law enforcement.