Page 42 of Midnight Creed

Creed noticed they were headed back the same way they’d come. Jason noticed, too. When he started to point it out, Creed caught his eyes and stopped him with a slight shake of his head. Without being told, Creed knew the sheriff was finished out here. If she didn’t agree, he’d think of something. As soon as the pickup was out of sight—and so were they—he saw that her hand trembled slightly while she tucked her notebook into her pocket. Despite her resolve during the encounter, it had shaken her.

They returned halfway down the path when she turned to them. “Guys, I’m sorry to waste your time. Wasted your whole morning.”

“Not a problem, Sheriff,” Creed told her.

“I didn’t expect that detour.”

She looked around his shoulder and back through the trees. He wondered if she was making sure the man hadn’t followed them. As sheriff, she was probably used to looking over her shoulder.

“I appreciate you both having my back,” she said, almost as if reading his mind. “I need to get a little something to eat. Can I buy all of you lunch?”

Before either could respond, she gestured to the dogs and added, “The Oval Office uses fresh ground chuck.”

29

Creed tried not to watch Jason wolf down his burger, though it was like a car accident on the side of the road. Messy, but hard to look away.

Jason had chosen what the Oval Office called their Myrtle Burger. It was seven ounces of beef with grilled onions and melted cheese. A beautiful creation on its own. Jason included the standard burger toppings of lettuce, tomato, pickles and mayo, so the sandwich stood at least six-inches tall.

It constantly amazed Creed how much the kid could eat. His lean, compact body seemed geared to accommodate an insatiable appetite. Creed glanced over at Norwich, who was devouring her own sandwich. She caught his eyes and darted a look over to Jason, then smiled, obviously pleased.

The owner had allowed them to bring in Scout and Grace. Creed accepted his offer of bowls of water for the dogs but turned down burgers of their own. He was careful about what his dogs ate, and both understood the protein bars they’d eaten in the Jeep would hold them over until they were fed their meals. Now they lie at their handlers’ feet, tucked close and content to watch the other patrons.

Their working vests signaled that they were not to be disturbed. Creed heard the couple across the room explaining to their little girl why she couldn’t run over and “pet the doggies.”

With his chair backed against the wall, he kept alert as he ate. His view included a window overlooking the parking lot, so he could determine ahead of time any commotion or threat before it came in the door. It was an old habit, drilled into him during his time in Afghanistan. Back then, it didn’t matter if he and Rufus were on duty or off. It seemed like every hour of every day there was some potential threat. He’d learned to assess quickly and act instantaneously. And even now, without the litany of risks, he still did it subconsciously.

He was also watching Norwich closely. Both he and Jason had been with her last summer when she suffered a heart attack. She’d spent a few days in the hospital. Had some kind of procedure. Less invasive. Stents maybe?

Whatever she’d gone through, she looked good. Her rolled up sleeves exposed lean forearms. For as long as Creed had known her, her hair had been steel gray. He guessed her age to be somewhere in her fifties. Out of all the sheriffs they worked with on a regular basis, Norwich was his favorite. She was straightforward, fair, and honest. And she respected his dogs and valued their abilities.

But Creed had to admit, he was taken back by how shook up the sheriff looked after their encounter with the construction dumper. He couldn’t figure out what had happened. Was it fear he’d witnessed? Did she feel vulnerable after the heart attack? No way would he ask.

“This missing teen who’s no longer missing, bothers me,” Norwich said, poking a French fry in his direction. “One of his parents is lying.”

“Why would they lie?” Jason asked. Then he gestured to Creed’s plate. “Are you gonna eat the rest of your fries?”

“Yes, I’m gonna eat them.”

“The dad’s a bully,” Norwich said. “Just like that guy dumping concrete into the woods. No respect for laws. They follow the ones that suit them. And definitely no respect for law enforcement.”

“They probably know each other,” Jason said, gesturing to the waitress for a refill of his soda.

“The garbage dumper and Monroe?”

“Yeah, I mean, he works with Ramsey Construction. Monroe does the final landscape after RC finishes their custom houses.”

Creed and Norwich stared at Jason.

He shrugged. “I’ve seen the trucks at the same sites.”

“His girlfriend’s father-in-law owns Ramsey Construction,” Creed told her.

“Oh. Interesting.” She pointed to what was left of her food. “This was my first hamburger and fries since the heart attack.” She said it matter-of-fact. “I almost forgot how good this stuff tastes.” She wiped her mouth and pushed the plate to the center of the table. “I didn’t touch those last fries if you’d like them,” she told Jason.

“Thanks.” He didn’t hesitate, dumping more ketchup to drag them through.

“Your girlfriend,” she said, “isn’t there a custody battle going on with her and the in-laws?”