Page 20 of Fallen Creed

Once inside, Maggie closed the door behind them. Creed didn’t hesitate. He let Grace off leash and encouraged her to sniff the double bed, lifting and folding back the bedspread. He took one of the pillows and brought it down to Grace, giving her time to run her nose over it.

With only a glance around the room, Maggie knew there would be plenty of Libby Holmes’ scent for Grace. Clothes were thrown over the back of a chair. The soles of a pair of shoes peeked out from under the same chair. The closet door was open and displayed an overflowing laundry basket on the floor.

Still, the belongings were sparse. The wall decorations, fixtures, and furniture were basic guestroom accommodations. There were no personal touches, no framed photographs or inspirational plaques. The dresser top was bare except for a makeup mirror and a caddy filled with an assortment of makeup and hair bands.

On the other side of the room was another door.

“We’re in luck,” Maggie told Creed as she crossed the room and eased open the door. “An en-suite.”

“I think we’re good,” Creed said. He and Grace were inspecting the contents of the laundry basket.

Actually, Maggie was no longer thinking about scents for Grace. Her gut instinct told her she needed to take advantage of this opportunity. Nora Spencer had invited them to help with the disappearance of Libby Holmes. Anything they learned about the girl could help find her.

She shoved her hands deep into her jacket pockets and was pleased to find an extra pair of latex gloves in one pocket and two small plastic evidence bags in the other. Then she stepped into the bathroom. The space was small with a cabinet sink, toilet and shower. She searched for anything that might still have the girl’s DNA.

Rather than pluck strands from a hairbrush, she bagged the entire brush. In the trashcan she found a bloodstained band-aid and a used tampon. She put each into a separate bag. She added a couple of other items then realized Creed was standing in the doorway behind her.

“Grace is ready,” he said without a single question or accusation about what she was doing.

—17—

Creed expected this search to be short. It quickly became a reminder of why it was better if handlers knew very little about the victim or the investigation. Human suppositions, preconceived notions and expectations were all too easy to insert and influence a scent dog. Just because Creed knew Libby Holmes had disappeared without a word and without her vehicle, he had already anticipated she had to have left with someone. No way the woman simply walked these gravel roads and expected to get somewhere.

That was what he presumed had happened. But Grace didn’t take him down the driveway. She didn’t head toward the road at all. Instead, she immediately took off in the opposite direction toward a cornfield. Not just a cornfield, but what looked like miles and miles of field.

Halfway there, she stopped and circled around. Even then, Creed still believed she might simply choose a different path that would lead to the road.

Nope. She poked at the air and waved her nose up and down. She surprised him again and started loping toward the barn. The whole time Creed followed, he avoided looking over his shoulder to locate the gravel road and calculate a route.

Then it occurred to him. Was it possible someone met her out in the barn? Maybe they didn’t want to be seen by anyone driving by. They could have pulled their vehicle into the breezeway.

The huge doors were slid open, and Creed could easily see the space was empty now. That could explain why Grace might track Libby to the barn, but not to the driveway. Her scent would have ended as soon as she climbed into a vehicle waiting for her inside the barn.

But Creed was wrong again. Instead of trotting into the breezeway, Grace darted around back and headed behind the barn. She weaved through the opening of a fenced area, the wooden gate left hanging on one hinge. The section, about fifty feet squared, looked like it used to be a vegetable garden, now gone to seed. Dried stocks poked up out of the weeds. Fallen leaves from more than one season stuck to the bottom of the wire fence. In several places, the wire had rusted and come loose from support posts.

A flash of purple caught Creed’s eye. He stepped carefully until he was close enough to identify it. A woman’s scarf was tied around the top of a post. The soft material waved in the breeze, very much out of place in this deserted garden.

Creed glanced around to find Grace waiting patiently. She stood next to a dip in the soil where the weeds had recently only sprouted again. They grew much shorter than the rest of the area. She looked up at him and met his eyes.

She alerted, but she wasn’t alerting to what Creed had asked her to find. There was something else here. Something or someone.

—18—

Maggie stayed behind with the Spencers after Creed and Grace left out the back door. He’d asked her to keep them from following.

As soon as the door closed, Nora moved to the window above the kitchen sink. She pretended to fuss over the coffeemaker, topping off her cup that Maggie could see was already full to the brim. When she realized her mistake, she set the cup aside and started pulling plates from a cupboard.

“I’m sure you and Mr. Creed must be hungry,” she said as she gathered napkins and brought those and the plates to the table. “Ted, watch your manners,” she tapped his arm as he reached for a sandwich.

“What? I’m hungry, too.”

“Please, go ahead and eat,” Maggie told them.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Mr. Creed?” Nora asked, glancing back over her shoulder to see out the window again.

“I don’t think he’d want you to wait for him.”

“You know, I should probably tell him—”