Page 65 of Fallen Creed

“I can’t eat,” Maggie told him.

“We can find a quiet booth to talk. You don’t mind if I eat, do you? I haven’t had breakfast.”

“Tommy, I’m serious.”

She placed a hand on his arm, and he stopped to look at her. To the left was the bank of elevators. To their right was the hallway to the restaurant. Only now did she notice the stubble on his face. He hadn’t shaved yet. Her phone call must have woken him despite his “ready-to-go” voice.

“I just...” She didn’t want to tell him she was on the verge of breaking apart. Dread and urgency pranced through her veins, causing her pulse to race. Her palms felt clammy. Her knees threatened to buckle without warning.

“Look, Maggie.” Pakula’s voice was low and gentle, but not condescending. She suspected it was the same tone he used with his wife and daughters. “I have an idea what you’re feeling. What you’re going through. Believe me, you don’t want to curl up and dwell on it. The best thing you can do for yourself and for Ryder right now is continue to put the puzzle pieces together.”

When she didn’t respond, he put a hand on her shoulder and told her, “We’ll find him. That’s what we do.”

Suddenly, her cell phone started pinging messages, one after another.

“Sometimes there’s a delay,” Pakula explained. “Who knows why? I hate these things. Come on. Join me for a few minutes. I’ll tell you about the sock.”

As Pakula ordered breakfast, Maggie brought up the text messages she’d missed. She didn’t stop him when she heard him order an extra order of wheat toast, bacon, and Diet Pepsi.

Three of the messages were from Agent Alonzo. The first simply told her he had gained access to the security camera’s digital files for the hardware store in Hastings. So she didn’t have to go there. The second said he was reviewing them. The third told her he was emailing her some of the more “interesting” ones.

There was also a message from Hannah asking her to call when she got a chance. Maggie’s stomach slipped to her knees. How was she going to tell Hannah about the cell phone and the bloody shirt? However, a second message from Hannah made her sit up. Her movement even grabbed Pakula’s attention.

“What is it?” he asked.

She reread the message before she looked up across the table at him.

“One of Ryder’s dog handlers, Jason Seaver, is driving up with his search dog to help look for Ryder.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” he told her. “So, what’s the problem?”

“Brodie is coming with him.”

—52—

“Tell me about the socks,” Maggie told Pakula.

She had spent the last several minutes explaining about the security camera files from the hardware store. At first, she believed it was a long shot. The idea of the killer buying his dismemberment tools at the place where his victim worked seemed far-fetched, but Maggie had known killers who were bold and often cocky. The bigger the risk, the greater the gratification.

Agent Alonzo had already pinpointed footage he wanted her to review, and she was impatient to get up to her room and her laptop to get started. But first, she wanted to hear about the socks found in the garbage bag with Ryder’s phone and shirt.

“In one bag we found yesterday, Lucy said there was a small, black sock. The sole was soaked in blood.”

“How do you know it wasn’t the victim’s?” Maggie asked.

“It’s all together possible,” he admitted. “But what are the odds that we find another one that looks like its match with Ryder’s stuff? If not a match, another that looks like the same brand or make. It reminds me of the crew socks you buy in a pack of six.”

That clammy feeling was back. She remembered the autopsy records she’d poured over last night.

“So what are you thinking?” she asked him.

“Cutting up a body is messy work.” He must have noticed the panic flit across her face because he put up a hand as if to stop it. “I’m not saying they did the same to Ryder. The shirt and phone wouldn’t be the only things left if that were the case.” He paused. Her face must have started to show her nausea.

“Just stay with me for a minute,” Pakula said. “Someone who’s done this before doesn’t want to ruin a pair of shoes. Plus, shoes leave footprints that can be traced. But socks? You take off the shoes and leave the socks on. Walk through the mess and toss them with the body. No way we can trace socks, right? Or at least, that’s what he’s thinking.”

“Why only throw away one?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if we find the other one when we find more of Darrow. And I’m not saying the sock we found yesterday is identical to the pair we found today. I’m saying it could be a part of his M.O. A habit he’s developed.”