Page 16 of Fallen Creed

“It’s not their missing young woman,” she said, and she was anxious to tell Nora. “She has a tattoo on her hand. Nothing on her ankle.”

“Okay. At least we know that much,” Lucy said, but there was no relief on her face. “Hopefully, we can figure out who this woman is, because one thing seems certain. If the killer didn’t want us to know her identity, he wouldn’t have left us her fingerprints.”

—13—

Creed was reluctant to come back. The woman in the blue scrubs was waiting for him alongside his Jeep. He knew what she wanted, and he wished he could turn around and walk away.

Pakula had left the scene, headed in the other direction. He’d texted Creed about dinner. Suggesting they all meet for breakfast instead, since it was long after six o’clock. Spencer and his deputies were stringing crime scene tape. Maggie helped Lucy pack up evidence bags and equipment.

None of them seemed to notice Spencer’s wife any longer. They had left her to wait for him.

He nodded in her direction but didn’t say a word as he raised the Jeep’s tailgate. He lifted Grace inside and poured water in her collapsible bowl, then he drank the rest from the plastic bottle.

The woman was tentative now. She certainly hadn’t been earlier. He glanced at her through the interior of the Jeep. She was looking over her shoulder. Still waiting. Looking and waiting for Maggie.

Okay, so they hadn’t just left her to him. He appreciated that small courtesy and busied himself with routine, off-loading his daypack and removing Grace’s vest. Taking his time while Maggie made her way over to them.

He wiped his face with a towel from a separate bag. Drained another bottle of water. Then he pulled out what he needed to fix a meal for Grace. The whole time he mixed and poured, he pretended it didn’t bother him that the women standing alongside his Jeep were waiting.

Creed never worked directly with family members. It was complicated. Too much emotional upheaval. Maggie knew that, and yet, she must have told this woman something else.

Finally, he slid the bowl into position for Grace. But Grace had already felt his tension and watched him rather than eat. He scooted the bowl closer and scratched behind her ears.

“It’s okay, girl. Go ahead.”

He left the tailgate open for the fresh air. Earlier he’d noticed a chill riding the breeze, but he’d worked up a sweat. It was part of the tension Grace could smell.

When he came around the Jeep to face them, his eyes went to Maggie’s. He was almost certain he saw a flicker of discomfort. So she knew he would be upset, and she did it anyway.

“Ryder, this is Sheriff Spencer’s wife, Nora.”

“I understand your little dog can find missing people, too,” Nora said impatiently and not bothering to wait out a formal introduction. “Not just dead people.”

“Mr. Creed is here to assist Investigator Pakula’s team,” Maggie tried to head her off. “As I told you before, your request would need to go through the sheriff’s department. It hasn’t been established yet that Libby is missing.”

Creed was wrong. Maybe Maggie hadn’t offered his services. Nora Spencer had only presumed she could appeal to him.

“Oh, I know she didn’t just take off,” she told Maggie. “Her car’s still in the shed. Why would she leave without a vehicle? How would she? And she didn’t show up for work. She’s never done that.”

Creed stayed quiet and studied the woman. Well-earned laugh lines rimmed her mouth and eyes. She talked with her hands. Although she was shorter than Maggie, there was an air of authority. She was used to people paying attention to her. She was used to people listening to her.

“I’m concerned she might hurt herself.”

“You didn’t mention that earlier,” Maggie said. “How old is she?”

“Nineteen or twenty.”

“Which? Nineteen or twenty?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Maggie insisted, and Creed could now hear the impatience in her voice. “One is a teenager. The other is not.”

“She could be in trouble. Right now!”

“All the more reason you need to be honest with us.”

This time, the woman looked as if Maggie had slapped her across the face.