Page 57 of Fallen Creed

“If it was used at five-thirty, I’m hoping that means it’s someplace above the snow.”

She stood at the window. The trucks with blades were working the parking lot. Snow was in the air, but it was difficult to tell if it was new stuff falling or old stuff blowing around. Besides, she had to believe that Ryder was still with the phone. Grace, too. She tried to envision them in an old shed in a pasture.

When Pakula didn’t respond immediately, Maggie tamped down the anger circling around her panic, threatening to replace it.

“Look, Pakula, I know you have your hands full. If you don’t want to help, just say so. I’ll go on my own.”

“Hold on. That’s not anywhere close to what I was thinking. Some of these back roads aren’t plowed yet. Our 4-wheel SUVs won’t cut it. We need more ground clearance. Give me a few minutes. Let me see if I can borrow someone’s pickup. I’ll call you back.”

Maggie sat down on the edge of the bed, holding her phone. And for once, she did the only thing she could at the moment. The one thing she hated to do. The one thing she knew she was terrible at doing.

She waited.

—45—

Maggie insisted Pakula take the passenger seat up front next to Sheriff Spencer in the extended cab of his Dodge Ram 2500 with a front plow. Climbing up into the monster truck required the running board. She remembered her drive back last night from Hastings to Grand Island, and how it felt like she was skating with the wind shoving her along. This ride felt solid. She could hear the tires gripping the road, and she liked the high vantage point.

“Nora’s been calling folks practically all night,” Spencer told them. “She’s concerned about Libby, but she’s worried sick about your guy and his dog. Feels guilty for sending them out in a storm.”

Maggie wanted to tell Spencer Nora should feel responsible. She wanted to ask if his wife made a habit of lying to him. Except it didn’t matter. No amount of guilt or remorse would help them find Ryder.

“I’m glad your people tracked his phone,” Spencer said. “We’ve been trying to track Libby’s since yesterday.”

Maggie hadn’t thought about that, and she wanted to kick herself. Instead, she asked, “Did you get anything?”

“Nothing. And that girl used her phone like it was an extension of her hand.”

“They think her battery’s been disconnected,” Pakula told Maggie. “Same as Ryder’s.”

“I don’t even know how to get to my battery,” Spencer said. “Is it possible to damage the battery if you drop your phone?”

Maggie and Pakula looked at Spencer at the same time. Neither had thought of that scenario. Of course, Maggie’s mind added other situations that included the phone getting crushed or smashed by someone else. Again, she reminded herself that Ryder could take care of himself. But maybe not if someone had blindsided him.

She raked her fingers through her hair, trying to settle her nerves. She’d left most of her meal last night. The result was extra space for the acid to churn.

“Those coordinates,” Maggie told the sheriff, trying to steer all of them back to the task at hand. “Do you recognize where that is?”

“Fields and pastures, mostly. I haven’t lived out here all that long. Nora inherited the farm a few years ago and convinced me to move out of town. But I can tell you, the roads within that radius will all be gravel or dirt.”

“What about other structures?” she asked. “Are there old sheds or barns on some of these properties?”

“Sure.”

His nod was exaggerated enough that Maggie suspected he was placating her.

“We had neighbors checking their outbuildings, at least the ones they could get to,” he added with a glance in the rearview to catch her eyes. When he didn’t see what he hoped to see, he added, “Like I said, Nora is really worried.”

Maggie wasn’t impressed. She still didn’t trust the woman and didn’t care if he saw it. She wanted to ask if he was surprised by how many things his wife had not told him about Libby. The baby and the miscarriage? She doubted those were Nora’s only two lies of omission.

“Her name isn’t Libby Holmes,” Maggie said, and watched for his reaction.

“What’s that?” Only a glance in the rearview mirror.

“And she’s only seventeen.”

This time, he twisted in his seat to look back at her. His bushy eyebrows furrowed into a V.

“Seventeen?” he asked. “How do you know that?”