Page 39 of Chasing Creed

She nodded. Then she squinted at her again before asking, “Were you one of Iris’ girls?”

Maggie felt her pulse tick up. She stood perfectly still. She didn’t want to break the woman’s train of thought. “Did you know Iris’ girls?”

Another shrug. And the woman looked away.

“Were there a lot of different girls?”

“That’s what people say. I didn’t see them.”

So only rumor. No actual sightings. It felt as if the air deflated from her lungs. How could Eleanor have lived on the farm next door to her daughter and not see any of Iris’ girls? But Maggie remembered the two properties and miles and acres of woods and pastures in-between.

It was possible. Unfortunately, very possible according to the way Brodie described being locked up in rooms, closets, sheds and then the basement.

The old woman was staring at the black television screen again. Her expression was a bit lost, as if she were somewhere else now.

“I can’t see anything without my glasses.”

24

Mississippi

Creed left Grace in the Jeep. The sun was finally out. The fog gone. The breeze cool. With the sunroof opened just a crack, Grace curled up and dozed under the damp, fresh air. She’d already had breakfast back in the hotel room with Scout and Hank. Creed had sent Jason and Brodie home. Said he’d follow soon after.

It wasn’t unusual for Creed to finish a search and feel like he was leaving the investigators with more questions than answers. The fact was, sometimes they didn’t find the missing person. This time, they’d found a body. Or at least a hand. They’d have to wait and see if it was Kyle Lawrence.

Sheriff Norwich waved at him from a corner booth as soon as he walked in the truck stop diner. It was busy and noisy, but the aroma of bacon made him glad he’d only had coffee with Jason and Brodie.

He barely sat down and a waitress with the name tag, RITA appeared. She placed a laminated menu and a ceramic mug in front of him. Without asking, she started pouring coffee that already smelled much better than what he’d had at the hotel.

“Do you know what you want, Hun? Or do you need a minute?”

He glanced at Norwich’s plate: chunks of melon with a lone strawberry, an omelet that couldn’t hide being egg-whites only, and an English muffin.

“I was hungry. I started without you,” she said as she spread jam on the lightly toasted muffin.

Norwich had suffered a heart attack not that long ago. Creed was there when it happened. She had to make adjustments to her lifestyle. Despite her platinum-gray hair, she was probably now in the best shape he’d ever seen her. But he also knew the woman could easily devour a cheeseburger and steal your fries.

He took too long, and Norwich noticed his hesitation. She added, “Have whatever you want. It won’t bother me.”

The waitress waited with the coffeepot in hand. Her eyes wandered to a party of four that had just walked in.

“Are you still serving breakfast?” he asked Rita. It was almost noon.

“We serve breakfast all day, Hun.”

“I’ll have the Classic with bacon and scrambled eggs.”

“English muffin or toast?”

“You have grits?”

“I can sure get you some, Hun. Comes with hash browns or sweet potato fries.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Norwich perk up.

“Sweet potato fries, please.”

“You got it.” She topped off Norwich’s coffee and, without writing down a single note, left.