Page 79 of Desperate Creed

The woman waited until she was a foot away before she greeted them, and then it was only a head nod.

“I understand you’re an FBI agent?”

Maggie bit back a grimace. Good ’ole Beth—“we all have secrets, Beth”—sure didn’t keep that secret for long.

“My name’s Maggie,” she said instead of confirming or denying. “This is Frankie. What’s your name?”

The woman looked thrown off by the question. “It’s Stephanie. Listen, I’m not from here,” she talked fast like she didn’t have much time to say what she wanted. She brushed at the damp strands of hair on her forehead. “We were driving down from New York. We’ve been on the road for two days. We just stopped for lunch.”

She glanced back at her son. He was on his own cell phone. Maggie suspected he was fourteen or fifteen. Now that they had mobile service, he looked content. From what Maggie remembered of the pair, the son had been the one leading her to safety while Stephanie had been paralyzed by her fear.

“We can’t be here,” the woman said, addressing Maggie as though she were a retail clerk at a return counter. “We’re supposed to be in Gulf Shores, Alabama. We should have been there by now.”

Maggie didn’t respond. It was possible the woman was in shock and didn’t realize what she was saying. Maggie waited. She wasn’t sure what Stephanie from New York was expecting her to do. She heard Frankie snort an exasperated laugh. The woman noticed.

“Can’t you do something?” she finally asked Maggie, still using that impatient tone. “I don’t think these men know what they’re doing. Is there anyone even trying to get us out of here? I don’t know who to text or call. But you must?”

“Stephanie, there are rescue crews.”

“Oh, thank God! I thought so!”

“But they’ve had to pull back.”

“What? No!”

“Just until these next storms go through the area. It’s too dangerous for them to be out in the open.”

“More storms?” She shook her head like she couldn’t believe it. “This is the most godforsaken part of the country I’ve ever been to. I can’t believe this. Who lives like this? I swear I’m never coming here again.”

“I tell you what, Stephanie, I’ll let you know when I know more,” Maggie told the woman, reminding herself that she really was better at crime scenes. The dead were never this demanding.

Instead of watching Stephanie shuffle her way back, Maggie returned to her messages.

“Did you notice she didn’t once ask if I was okay?” Frankie said, her tone unusually sober.

“Yes. And I also noticed you didn’t offer her any of your whiskey.”

“Don’t need to. She’s already tripping on something. I’ve seen her popping pills a couple of times.”

Maggie glanced at the woman, again. That could explain the glassy eyes and the unrealistic perception of her surroundings. She couldn’t worry about it right now. She scrolled to the first text message from Agent Alonzo. She wanted to read his in the order he sent them.

HE’S DEFINITELY THERE.

The second one read:

STILL HASN’T LEFT.

The third:

I’M EMAILING WHAT I’VE FOUND ON CARSON FOODS. LOTS OF GOVERNMENT SUPPORT.

And a fourth:

2 OUT OF 4 SEPARATE LAWSUIT LITIGANTS HAVE DIED FROM “UNFORTUNATE ACCIDENTS.” I’M DIGGING DEEPER.

The fifth one read:

MAGGIE, YOU OK? I JUST SAW THE DAMAGE.