Page 31 of Fallen Creed

“I’m no expert in pedicures, but this looks professional. Cuticles are trimmed. Polish is recent. Unless we have a killer with a foot fetish.”

The phone rang. Lucy ignored it for the first few rings. Finally, she peeled off her gloves as she walked over and picked up the receiver.

“This is Lucy Coy.”

After only a second or two, she grabbed a notepad and started writing. When she was finished, she thanked the caller and hung up.

“I had them run the heart-shaped tattoo we found on the ankle. They got a hit,” Lucy told her.

“Wait. Isn’t that a popular tattoo and spot?”

“It could be.” Lucy glanced at her note. “Nothing conclusive, but a local woman was just reported missing. A twenty-year-old named Kristin Darrow. No one’s seen her since her shift ended last Thursday at the Menard’s in Hastings. She has a heart tattoo on her ankle.”

“A hardware store.” That was the first thing that struck Maggie. Then she remembered. Menard’s in Hastings?

“I think that’s where Nora Spencer said Libby Holmes works.”

—25—

The snow had let up. Creed didn’t know much about blizzards, but he suspected this wasn’t the end.

It was actually quite pretty. Clumps gathered on the tree branches and stacked on the leaves. It stuck to the cornstalks and filled the ditches between the rows. A fine blanket covered the pastures. The white made the yellow and red grasses even more brilliant. The sun appeared briefly and the entire landscape glittered before more gray clouds rolled in.

The only thing Grace had found so far was the wrapper from a protein bar caught on a barbwire fence. But she wasn’t finished. He made her take regular breaks every twenty minutes for water and to check her paws. A scent dog’s rapid breathing could cause dehydration, whether in hot or cold weather. Grace didn’t appear fazed by the cold or the snow.

On the river’s bank, she stopped at a grassy marsh and did a circle as she sniffed snow-coated cattails. She backtracked, this time keeping her nose closer to the ground. But she ended up back at the marsh and the cattails at the river’s edge.

The bank wasn’t steep. Creed realized Libby could have easily crossed here. Was it possible she had access to a small boat? Or an inflatable raft?

“Wait, Grace.”

He stared out across the river. The water ran swift along the bank, not allowing the snow to make a difference. It was murky with debris. He couldn’t see the bottom. Ten feet out, a sandbar stretched through the middle, then the river continued along the opposite bank. The other side was thick with woods.

Creed dug in his daypack and pulled out a pair of binoculars. Before he even put them to his eyes, he noticed a glint and movement in the trees. He glanced down. Grace had seen or heard it, too. Her ears pitched forward. Her nose poked the air, and her eyes were glued to the same area. The two of them were so focused, they didn’t hear the deer behind them until it darted out of the shrubs. All Creed saw was the white tail racing away.

Grace startled as much as Creed. Then she shot him an accusatory look.

“What? I didn’t hear it, either,” he told her while he raised the binoculars again. “Hey, at least we don’t have to worry about alligators or water moccasins.” He could see his own breath. It was getting colder.

He put away the binoculars and brought out a map Nora had sketched for him before he left. She marked where an old one-lane bridge crossed the river. He couldn’t see it between the trees.

She also highlighted a couple of paths. One on this side of the river and another on the other side. She called them irrigation dirt roads and suggested Libby could have taken one as a shortcut to get to the nearest highway. Grace didn’t even hesitate at the mouth of the first path.

He squatted down and brushed off Grace’s vest.

“We need to cross the river, girl.”

She wagged and wiggled.

“No, we’re not getting in the water.”

Creed studied Nora’s crude map again and tried to figure out which direction the bridge was. It didn’t matter if they crossed exactly where Libby had. Grace could pick up the scent on the opposite side.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He took off his gloves to get at it. It wasn’t Maggie, and only then did he realize his pulse had ticked up a few beats.

“Good morning, Hannah.”

“I’m watching the weather channel,” his partner said. “You didn’t take a coat, did you?”