Page 53 of Fallen Creed

Why did she continue to put up boundaries? She cared about this man. Deep down, she knew she loved him. And yet, she kept him at arm’s length every chance she got.

She had no clue what a relationship with him looked like. What kind of promises could they make to each other when their individual lives kept them a thousand miles apart? She would never ask him to give up his home. And she knew he would never ask that of her.

So what did that mean?

To her, the questions were rhetorical. As long as she kept thinking of them in that way, she never had to find an answer.

There was one thing she was certain of, however. She wanted Ryder Creed in her life. No, it was more than that. She couldn’t imagine a life without him in it.

“Ryder, where are you?” she asked out loud as she stared into the white blur of night. “You have to be safe.”

The parking lot down below looked like mounds of snow. There was nothing to distinguish the vehicles buried underneath except their basic shapes.

Her phone pinged behind her. It was tethered to the desk as it charged. She left her perch to check the incoming message. Her adrenaline was gone. Exhaustion had settled in. The sound had generated only a slight uptick of her pulse, whereas earlier, every nerve-ending had alerted to any possible communication from Ryder.

It was Agent Alonzo. He was letting her know he’d sent her an email.

She glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand—half past midnight. She shook her head and smiled. When constructing a crime unit, she unintentionally surrounded herself with members as driven as she was.

She logged into her account. His email included several attachments. The first one included a news article from a local publication. The headline read: Sterling, Virginia All-American Athlete is Suspect in Murder Case.

Emma Hobbs, an honor student and star soccer player at Dominion High School, has been named a person of interest in the murder of a Richmond woman. Gina Franklin had been missing for two weeks before hikers found her body near Abington, Virginia. Hobbs, who graduated early from high school as a National Merit Scholar, was expected to begin college in August at the University of Florida on a soccer scholarship.

Maggie remembered Nora saying that Libby Holmes was smart. Turns out she was an All-American athlete, too. And yet, somehow, she got mixed up in a murder.

She pulled up Nora’s photo of Libby and compared it to the high school graduation photo the news article had included of Emma Hobbs. Despite knowing both photos were of the same teenager, Maggie had to look for the resemblance. Emma’s smile appeared careless and confident, a high school graduate ready to take on the world. Libby looked so much older and hardened. Both smiles were genuine, but a spark was missing from Libby’s eyes, replaced by something flat and cynical.

Emma graduated last December. The Spencers said she came to live with them just after Easter. Maggie searched the news article. The body of Gina Franklin was found on February 25. In less than ten months, Emma was suspected of murder, got pregnant, changed her name, traveled 1300 miles, then tried to commit suicide.

And now she may have gotten another woman murdered.

Maggie opened the other attachments Alonzo had sent. One was a police report. The other was a copy of the autopsy report for Gina Franklin.

Autopsy report.

Alonzo had told her the murder was brutal. Maybe she could find some answers in the report. But her eyes were tired. She saved and closed everything, deciding to pull out her laptop.

As she walked by the window, she noticed the snow had stopped falling and was mostly just blowing. Through the swirl, she couldn’t see much. While her laptop powered up, she used her cell phone to tap out one last text message.

RYDER, I'M THINKING ABOUT YOU. HOPE YOU AND GRACE ARE SAFE. AND WARM.

She needed to keep her mind busy. She clicked on the attachment and scrolled through the scanned pages of the autopsy report. Halfway down the third page, she stopped.

Alonzo had told her the victim had been beaten to death with a hammer. He did not, however, mention that the body had been dismembered.

—42—

Interstate 55, Missouri

Jason had been driving for over eight hours. It was long after midnight. He’d been up since 5:00 a.m. chores. Hannah’s goodies and even the Red Bull weren’t working. And Brodie had gone uncharacteristically quiet. She was probably tired, too. Once in a while, he glanced over. In the blue dashboard lights, he could see her eyes were closed. He didn’t think she was sleeping, though he’d told her it was okay.

Hannah had texted him when she found Brodie’s cell phone on her bedroom dresser. He wondered if she didn’t know she’d forgotten it, or if it was another thing she didn’t want to tell him?

His GPS showed a Drury Inn coming up in Hayti, Missouri. They’d just crossed from Tennessee through a corner of Arkansas and over the border into Missouri. Another twenty minutes, and he figured they could get a couple rooms, grab some sleep and free breakfast, then get back on the road by seven.

He was cocky to think he could drive straight through. If he didn’t have Brodie along, he would have pulled off at a rest stop, reclined the seat, and got a few hours of sleep that way. So far, he’d purposely avoided rest stops. He wasn’t sure if they’d trigger a panic attack for Brodie, but he certainly didn’t want to find out. When they filled up the gas tank, he looked for other open spaces for the dogs and chose fast-food places for him and Brodie to use the restrooms.

As soon as he slowed down to take the exit for Hayti and Caruthersville, Brodie jerked up to face the windshield.