Page 81 of Fallen Creed

“What about the other girl? The other suspect?”

“Lara White. Eighteen. Richmond, Virginia.”

“Maybe we could talk to her.”

“Not possible. She died in a car accident.”

“You’re kidding?”

“I wish I was. I’m still waiting for details about the accident.”

“When did it happen?” Maggie asked.

“February. Right about the time Emma Hobbs disappeared.”

“I don’t like this,” Maggie said. “I don’t like this at all.”

—63—

Interstate 80

Jason noticed that Brodie had gotten quieter some time after they crossed the border from Missouri into Nebraska. She asked fewer questions and stared out her side window for longer periods. Jason glanced into the rearview mirror at Hank and realized he had started using the big dog to determine Brodie’s emotional state. She could hide her eyes and her feelings from Jason, but she couldn’t do the same with Hank.

They were on the west side of Omaha and still hadn’t run into snow, but it was definitely colder. Since Kansas City, he watched the temperature go down. The sun dipped behind clouds on the lower horizon, painting the sky with streams of orange and purple.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d used the Jeep’s heater. Brodie had taken off her shoes and tucked her stocking feet up underneath her. He thought maybe she’d fallen asleep. Neither of them had gotten much last night. He was doing okay, but ready to get settled, stretch and let the dogs do the same.

Hannah had reserved rooms for them—adjoining rooms, per Jason’s instructions—at the hotel where Ryder was supposed to be staying. Hannah suggested he keep in touch with Maggie, but so far, Jason put off calling her, choosing instead to text a few times to let her know their status. Her responses were brief: a thumbs up or a simple “OK.” He wasn’t sure if she appreciated them coming to help, or if she thought they’d be in the way.

Hannah mentioned that he should be careful of not stepping on the toes of local law enforcement, to respect their boundaries. As far as Jason was concerned, they already had their chance, and they botched it. They still hadn’t found Ryder and Grace. Maybe they needed to step aside and let Jason and Scout do their search.

Brodie stirred, then bolted upright, readjusting herself. She sat straight up as if something had stung her.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Familiar territory,” she said with a shrug, as if it was no big deal, but her eyes darted over the fields like she was looking for something in particular. Her body pressed back into the seat and her arms wrapped around her chest.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

“No, it’s okay. Just keep going. You can’t see any of it from the interstate.”

By “any of it,” he figured she meant Iris Malone’s property.

“Nebraska brings bad memories,” he said.

“It’s not Nebraska’s fault.”

He glanced over and felt a clammy sweat come over the back of his neck. The tension in her rigid body telegraphed a dread and anxiety that was palpable. He didn’t need to look at Hank. In fact, he avoided looking back at the dog this time.

“We’ll be passed it soon,” Brodie said, reassuring herself as much as Jason.

He wondered how she knew. Could she sense it? Did the road signs tell her? Was there a landmark?

She hadn’t shared any details with him about the farm or the place called “The Christmas House,” where they had found her. He never asked.

All the shrinks he’d seen wanted him to talk about “the event,” like reliving the moments of that IED going off would somehow make him whole again. All it did was get him to think about it until he couldn’t make the images go away. He hated that might be happening to Brodie right now. That this landscape may have triggered all the pain she had endured.

Once again, she surprised him when she asked, “Did you ever kill anybody? I mean in Afghanistan?”