Page 37 of Fallen Creed

She sent a text, too.

Then she sat and watched the snow gather on the windshield. She couldn’t imagine Ryder and Grace out trudging through this. Her dashboard reported the outside temperature at twenty-eight-degrees Fahrenheit. It was twenty degrees warmer when she parked here earlier in the morning.

She listened to her voicemails to make sure she didn’t miss one from Ryder. But there were only two, and both were from Agent Anthony Alonzo back at Quantico.

She scrolled through her contacts and found a number she had added last night. She tapped the call button and almost immediately got an answer.

“Hello?”

“Nora, it’s Maggie O’Dell.”

“Yes?”

She shouldn’t be surprised the woman would be so curt with her. Maggie didn’t even disagree that perhaps she deserved it.

“Have you found something?” Nora asked.

“We’re still piecing things together.” Maggie winced at the unintentional pun. Hopefully, Nora didn’t notice. “Have you seen Ryder and Grace?”

“I just got back from the grocery store. His Jeep is still parked in the barn.”

After a silence, Nora asked, “He hasn’t been in touch with any of you?”

Maggie recognized the uptick of panic creeping back into the woman’s voice. This time Maggie was feeling it, too.

—29—

The woman named Ariel was smarter and more dangerous than Creed initially believed. She knew exactly how to control him. She kept the gun pointed directly at Grace.

Once Libby realized he could stand and walk, she no longer listened to Ariel’s suggestions of how to “finish him off.” Instead, she insisted they take him along. They needed to get out of the snow and cold and take shelter. But the last thing she said to him convinced Creed she might be just as dangerous as her counterpart.

“You’re coming with us,” she had said, gritting her teeth to keep them from clacking. “If you do something stupid, it’s over.” There was a glint in her eyes that hinted of something wild, uncontrolled, and capable of carrying out her threat.

The wind had swept gusts of snow into the open shed. It howled through the rotted slats. Creed could feel and hear the dilapidated building shift and lean in one direction, then settle back.

Ariel insisted they pat him down for weapons. She relinquished the gun to Libby while she did a thorough search, grinning as she squeezed his crouch, then shoved her hands deep in his jean pockets and patted down his butt. She rifled through his daypack, pulling it down to her level with exaggerated force. When he was still too tall, she kicked the back of his knee, sending him down to the ground before he could catch himself.

Nothing in his pack interested her. Last, she grabbed his cell phone and waved it at Libby. “I’ll take care of this.”

Libby allowed him to clean and dress the wound only after she took Grace’s leash and pulled the dog ten feet away. Ariel kept the gun pointed at Grace, too.

Carefully and slowly, he slipped off his daypack and laid it on the dirt floor of the shed. He began pulling out alcohol and more hemostatic gauze from the first aid supplies, all the while keeping an eye on Libby and Grace. Ariel hovered above him, but stayed a safe distance behind. He couldn’t see her, but he felt her. And he could hear her raspy breath.

“If you shoot my dog, even by accident,” Creed said in a calm voice, “I’ll kill you both with my bare hands.”

Neither woman said a word. When he unzipped the puffer jacket, Libby gasped before she could stifle it. His shirt and T-shirt were a bloody mess. He caught the anger in Libby’s eyes as they flashed up and over his shoulder at Ariel. He tucked away that small piece of information. These two women weren’t on the same page. He could use that to his advantage.

As he exposed the wound and poured alcohol into it, he saw Libby wince and turn away. He clamped his jaw tight and allowed a groan this time. He wanted them to believe that it hurt like hell; that maybe it had incapacitated him. But as he continued cleaning the wound, he realized it might be deeper than he thought. Was shock keeping him from feeling the extent of the damage? He did the best he could. There wasn’t much more he could do about it out here.

He packed more hemostatic gauze into and onto the incision, then closed it with surgical tape. His T-shirt was soaked with blood and stuck to his skin. He was shivering from the cold by the time he zipped the jacket up.

Before they left the shed, the women were back at it.

“We’re leaving my car?” Ariel asked in a whine that sounded more like an annoyed teenager.

“We can’t get where we’re going by driving.”

Libby gathered up a backpack that Creed hadn’t noticed before. She led the way, and they marched out into the blinding snowstorm. It was impossible to see farther than ten feet. He took some pleasure in Ariel’s exasperated sigh. She clearly hadn’t signed up for this part.