Page 28 of Fallen Creed

“You came up from Florida?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Nora. Did you bring a coat?”

“I should be okay,” he shrugged, trying to remember if he had another sweatshirt somewhere in his gear to double-up.

“I’ll get you one of Ted’s,” she said and led them toward the kitchen.

“You don’t need to do that,” Creed said as he glanced at the photos on the mantle as they passed. “Do you have any photos of Libby?”

She stopped in the kitchen doorway and turned, already pointing to the far right corner. “Just the one,” she said before noticing the empty space.

She hurried to the spot and found the picture frame facedown. Her fingers grabbed for it, then she flipped it so Creed could see the empty frame.

“She took it with her,” Nora said, surprised but obviously pleased. “It was me and her at the farmer’s market this summer.” She stared off out the window. “We had the best time. Went out for lunch. Came back home. I showed her how to make fresh salsa.”

Her eyes came back to Creed. “I wouldn’t be so concerned if she had taken the car and left. But it scares me that she just walked away.” She glanced back at the frame. “I’m not sure what to make of her taking the photo.”

“You said you’re worried she might hurt herself,” Creed said.

“Yes, of course. I mean, why else would she just walk away?” Her eyes searched his as if she hoped to find an alternate answer. “We confirmed she was pregnant when she was still at the hospital.”

He wasn’t sure why she was telling him this. He wasn’t an investigator. Sometimes it was better to know less about the missing person. Handlers assisted their dogs. Too many preconceived notions, and there was a risk he could influence Grace’s search. But he didn’t interrupt Nora, recognizing her need to tell him.

“She didn’t tell any of us. I figured it might have been the reason she tried to kill herself. She wasn’t here a month when she miscarried. It was just her and me. She was so upset. When I told her we could bury him close by, that seemed to comfort her.”

Nora blinked away her own emotion, and her eyes darted back to the mantle. She returned the frame to its spot and said, “I have this photo on my phone. I texted it to Agent O’Dell. I’ll text you a copy. Let’s have some coffee.”

He sat at the kitchen table, and Grace leaned against his leg. She was ready to get to work. He needed to rethink safety protocol for her and resort his daypack. Protecting her feet would be an additional challenge if the temperature sank below freezing. Grace didn’t like boots. It wasn’t that she just disliked them; she refused to move in them.

Nora placed a steaming mug in front of him, then added assorted sugars, cubes, and packets along with a small pitcher of cream. He didn’t need any of them. He waited for her to sit and join him, but she was off again, darting down the hallway. She came back carrying a black coat. She wrapped it around the back of a chair, then finally sat.

“Ted’s never worn it,” she gestured to the coat. “I bought it for his birthday. It’s a Columbia Sportswear puffer jacket. I thought it would be snazzier than his old barn jacket. He hasn’t a lick of fashion sense.”

“This is an expensive jacket. I can’t accept it,” Creed told her when he really wanted to say that this wasn’t his style, either. He’d be more comfortable in one of Spencer’s old barn jackets.

“Please, I insist. Trust me, you really can’t be out there today with only a sweatshirt or jacket. This is lightweight, but insulated. Believe me, Ted’s gonna be wishing he wasn’t so stubborn.”

By the time Creed left Nora Spencer, he had on thermal socks with an extra pair in his pocket, lined gloves, and a dozen packets of hand warmers. He was most grateful for the hand warmers. He’d used the cold version in the humid, hot temperatures of Florida, so he was familiar with their instant relief. They were small and air activated, making them easy to use. He could even put one inside the pocket of Grace’s vest if she got cold.

Nora suggested he park his Jeep in the barn’s breezeway. It was a good place for Grace to resume the search, but he quickly saw Nora’s reasoning. Just in the short time he’d been inside, several inches of snow had covered his Jeep.

Tucked away now, packed and ready to go, Creed pulled off his sweatshirt and put on Ted’s jacket. The instant warmth was amazing. It was tight through the shoulders, but he could zip it up easily. He didn’t even mind that the sleeves were two inches too short.

—24—

Grand Island, Nebraska

“These are clean, sharp cuts,” Lucy Coy told Maggie. She ran a gloved finger over the dismembered hand.

As an FBI criminal profiler, Maggie had seen her share of dismembered body parts. Often the method of disposal—Dumpster, takeout container, garbage bag—could be as telling as the dismemberment.

“Obviously not his first time,” Maggie said. “Are all the pieces this clean?”

“Animals got into one bag, but otherwise, yes.” Gently her long fingers picked up and turned the victim’s hand so it rested palm up.

They were in the morgue of the local hospital. Lucy had mentioned that she set up arrangements when she became the chief pathologist for the Nebraska State Patrol. Lucy lived outside of North Platte, which was in the western part of the 430-mile wide state. County coroners were usually the county attorneys, so most forensic autopsies were performed in Lincoln in the south-central part of the state. In incidents where time was of the essence, Lucy could use these facilities for preliminary examinations. Or sometimes, when current weather conditions threatened a delay, Lucy could perform the entire autopsy. Especially as Pakula’s team expected to gather more body parts.