Page 41 of Chasing Creed

“That’s right, I forgot. You were targeted a few years ago. Jason told me about that. Choque Azul.” She took a long drink of coffee as if needing to get the word out of her mouth.

She picked up her fork then added, “You know they’re still around these parts. Moved inland. They’re just not coming up the Gulf anymore. But I also heard they’re not into drugs as much. Human trafficking is big business. Drugs they can sell only once. A person they can sell over and over.” She shook her head. Put the fork down and reached for the coffee again.

“Here you go, Hun.” The waitress was back and setting plates of food in front of Creed. Bacon crisp, eggs fluffy, and grits stiff with butter already melting on top. His mouth watered at the aroma. The sweet potato fries took up their own plate.

“Thanks. This looks and smells great.”

“How about you, Hun? More coffee.” She was talking to Norwich now, and if Creed wasn’t mistaken, the sheriff looked pleased to be included as, “hun.”

“I’m good. Put this all on my tab.”

“Will do. Wave if you need anything.”

Creed started to dive in with fork and knife but stopped. He moved the condiment tray to the side, then slid the plate of sweet potato fries to the middle of the table.

“You want Grace and me to go back out? The woman’s scent must have been in the SUV. That’s obviously what both dogs tracked. I could even ask Grace specifically to search for drugs or explosives, if that would help.”

“No. Absolutely not.” She scooped up one of the crispy wedges of potato. “Something strange and dangerous happened out there on that abandoned property. I think we both need to go home. You and your crew have helped more than enough. Let the Mississippi State Patrol take over.”

“But what about Kyle?”

“Yes, what about Kyle?” Someone asked from behind Creed.

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“I figured it was you, Frances,” the woman said.

As soon as Norwich looked up, her eyes flashed recognition then came a long sigh. She was not pleased.

“Sheriff’s Department vehicle with Florida plates, I knew it had to be you.”

“Lydia, I can’t talk to you right now,” Norwich told her.

“And you can’t return my calls at your convenience. Well, I’m going to make you talk to me, Frances whether you like it or not.”

When she started to pull out a chair from their table, Creed stood and placed a hand on the chair, stopping her. Then he recognized her from the crime scene.

“You’re Kyle’s mother,” he said as she tried to tug the chair away.

She glanced at him, breaking her hard stare from Norwich. She did a double-take when she realized who he was.

“I didn’t mean to insult you about your dogs,” she told him, dropping her eyes away. The exhaustion on her face made her look older. Up close, he could see the strain in the creases on her forehead and wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. “I just want to find my boy.”

Creed looked over at Norwich. Their eyes met, and she nodded, followed by another sigh. This time he pulled out the chair for Lydia and gestured for her to sit down.

“Would you like some coffee?” But he didn’t wait for her answer and signaled the waitress.

Now seated, the woman also looked smaller. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her skin pale, and her short hair windblown and tangled. She was quiet while the waitress put down a mug in front of her and poured coffee, taking time to refill Creed and Norwich’s cups.

“When was the last time you ate something?” Norwich asked.

Lydia shrugged, suddenly quieted by the unexpected attention.

“Rita, could you please bring some scrambled eggs and bacon and—”

“Could I have sausage instead?”

“Of course,” Rita took over. “Toast, grits, hash browns?”