Page 26 of Fallen Creed

“I have a jacket and sweatshirt.”

Creed had noted the chill in the night air. Usually, he kept his sleeves rolled up and his shirt unbuttoned over his T-shirt, but earlier he had pulled the sleeves down; buttoned the cuffs and the shirt against the cold. And yes, he had packed a jacket, but it was lightweight. Somewhere he had a pair of gloves.

“How bad can it be in October?” he asked.

He’d lived in the south his entire life. He’d never worked a dog in temperatures below freezing. Any snow or ice he’d experienced was short-lived.

“Funny you should ask how bad can it be,” Maggie told him. “I remember being in Pensacola once when there was a hurricane coming up the Gulf. I asked how bad can one storm be?”

“Which one was it?”

“Isaac.”

“Oh yeah, that was a bad one.”

“That’s sort of my point,” she said with another smile. “Pakula is obviously taking it seriously. I’m joining Lucy early tomorrow morning when she examines the dismembered parts. He’s organizing a team to search the roads and fields starting at dawn before the snow covers everything. They’ll see how far they can span out from the area where we found the pieces.”

“I should have taken Grace a little farther up the road. Does Pakula want us to join him in the morning?”

“I think you can stick to your plan. Maybe Grace can find Libby Holmes before she hurts herself.” Maggie looked out the side window into the blur of night, and she absently added, “There’s still a chance Libby Holmes might be alive. The woman Pakula’s team is looking for is already dead. The dead can usually wait.”

—22—

Clay County, Nebraska

“You girls will thank me tomorrow,” Ruben told them as he held the flashlight while they continued to dig. It would take longer with only two. He was really starting to miss not having three. Lately, it seemed like he spent more energy cutting away loose ends than enticing new recruits, but this last time, he had no choice. The girl he had recently cut loose had become a third wheel.

“Don’t you want to know why you’ll both be thanking me tomorrow?” he asked when he got no response.

Shelby wouldn’t look up at him. She wouldn’t dare show him the tears he knew she was failing to hold back. Vanessa, however, seemed to relish this task as much as the one that led them to this cornfield in the middle of the night.

She was quickly becoming one of his prized students, not just taking on his assignments, but eager to move on to the next. Up the ante. Show him. Surprise him. Maybe even outdo him, which was flattering though sometimes ridiculous. After all, he thrived on pitting them against each other, pushing them to compete for his attention. Competition quickly sifted the strong from the weak; the loyal from the disloyal. It was a successful process, despite leaving him in a pinch at the moment.

“Isn’t this too close to where we ditched the bags?” Vanessa asked, leaning on the shovel and looking up at him.

“That’s exactly why we’re here. You want to keep them on their toes. Do things nobody expects. Be unpredictable.”

“Be unpredictable,” she repeated, staring at him. Her face was shadowed, so he couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew they were intense when she was thinking and soaking in his lessons.

Just then, he heard something beyond the damned bugs.

“Did you hear that?” he asked.

He shot the stream of light up and behind them, making sure they were alone.

“Probably some animal waiting for us to be finished so he can dig it back up and snack.” Vanessa laughed and Shelby cringed.

“Gross. Don’t say stuff like that,” Shelby told her. It was the first thing she’d said in the last hour.

Ruben kept scanning what he could see beyond the rows of corn. It was too damned quiet out here if you didn’t count the cicadas and the rumble of a distant train. When he brought the flashlight back, he swiped across Vanessa’s back. The night air had a chill, and yet, she’d taken off her shirt and worked in only a tank top. Ordinarily, Ruben would enjoy the sight of her sweat-drenched body, but he didn’t enjoy looking at her most recent tattoo.

Oh, he was all for tattoos. He didn’t mind them at all. Quite the opposite, he encouraged them. Even paid for them. But this one bothered him. The black scorpion looked so real, like it was crawling out from under her skin. He wanted to swat it off the back of her shoulder.

“Why?” Vanessa asked, standing straight, stretching her back, then leaning against the shovel handle to take a break. “Why will we be thanking you tomorrow?”

“Oh, right. Because it’s supposed to snow tomorrow,” Ruben said, keeping his tone casual but his focus pinned on the spot between the tall stalks. He could swear he saw eyes flashing at the end of the row.

“Snow!” Shelby whined. But she didn’t look up. “Can we go back to Florida?”