Page 98 of Midnight Creed

The bleeding looked like it had stopped. As he wrapped it, he told her, “I’ll call Jason. He should be able to find this access road and come get us.”

“What about the spot where Grace alerted?”

The Jack Russell sat beside Hank, her eyes not leaving Creed’s hands or Hank’s paw.

“It looks like fresh sod. I want to say it’s probably fertilizer again. Did I ask her specifically to continue with the boy’s name?”

“I don’t remember.”

Then she looked fully at him, concern flashing across her face. Not just for Hank. Now, it extended to him, too.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” But maybe he wasn’t. He’d made the same mistake twice within hours. “I’ll take down the coordinates. We can tell Norwich about the alert.”

“I should be taking down the coordinates.”

“Stay with Hank.”

Creed stood and pulled out his flashlight. He wanted to give Jason more than a GPS coordinate. He slid the beam along the dirt path. The tracks were cut deep and recent. They must connect to a main road, but he couldn’t see any of that in the dark. Just as he swung the light to the other side, something reflected back.

Brodie turned to see what had his attention. She added her flashlight. A pickup was parked just off the road and close to the trees.

“No one inside?” Brodie asked as she waved her light over the windows and the windshield.

“I don’t think so.” It was pulled up on the grass. “Looks like someone was trying to hide it.”

“Didn’t the sheriff say Will sketched a pickup following him?”

As if synchronized, both of them doused the vehicle’s frame in light. There was no doubt. It was a blue pickup.

65

She offered him food. Gregory wanted to laugh. Wasn’t that so motherly? They hadn’t seen each other in years, and the first time they reunite, she wanted to feed him.

Or maybe poison him.

When he hadn’t responded, she simply walked around him and headed to the kitchen. She started taking items out of the massive refrigerator. Mayonnaise, cheese, slices of ham and pickles.

His mother hadn’t been much of a cook. It looked like she hadn’t changed. His father, on the other hand, created masterpieces even with leftovers. Gregory remembered the aromas coming from their small kitchen. It was half this size.

He welcomed the change of scenery. At least this room didn’t have trophies and photographs of his brother.

“What are you doing here, Peter?” she asked casually as she opened cupboards for bread and maybe a sharp knife.

“You invited me to join you for the holidays.”

“A little heads up would have been appropriate.”

In the kitchen window behind her, the sky lit up. A rumble of thunder followed. She turned to glance out, and the corners of her mouth curved downward. It was an expression he recognized. The weather was disappointing her. All those things she just couldn’t control.

“Where’s good old Carl?”

Her eyes darted to a clock on the wall, then back to the sandwich makings spread across the countertop.

“He’s away on business. He’s trying to get back as soon as possible.”

“Because of the boy?”