Page 23 of Chasing Creed

Brodie glanced over her shoulder. Despite Ryder’s insistence that they stick together, both Grace and Scout had gotten snagged on a scent about fifty feet back where an old door lay tangled and hidden between some prickly shrubs. It was smaller than a normal door. The wood had weathered, making it look like a part of the landscape. When Hank found it earlier, Brodie couldn’t help thinking the door looked like a secret entryway to a hole in the ground or perhaps a cellar. Except there was no hill or incline. Just the scratched wooden door with bent and rusty hinges.

She’d taken some photos when she noticed what looked like a scrap of torn fabric wedged into a splintered corner.

The dark blue fabric looks too new and clean; she jotted in her notebook.

She’d guessed it might be denim and put that suggestion in parentheses. Then she sketched it out, including a compass rose after checking her own compass. She’d done all this before Grace and Scout had given soft alerts. Or at least, that’s what Ryder called them. She heard Jason say something about “hot spots” and being in “the scent cone.”

She and Hank had left the dogs and their handlers to figure it out. But now, it looked like the dogs were still circling the area. They were convinced the wooden plank held some significance along with the grass around it and the base of a nearby pine tree.

At the rubbish pile, Brodie started taking photos and jotting additional notes. She pocketed her notebook and phone.

That’s when she saw movement inside the pile.

A quick glance at Hank told her she wasn’t mistaken. He stood beside her, cocking his head to the side and staring at the same spot. Neither one of them heard Scout come rambling up behind them.

“Scout, halt,” she told the dog, holding one palm out to keep the dog from coming any closer.

“What’s going on?” Jason hurried up beside her.

“Hank and I saw something move inside.” She pointed, but the greenery threading through bits of rock and broken concrete had gone still.

“Whoa! That’s quite a smell.”

“Could be a dead animal underneath.”

Brodie turned at the same time Jason did. Both looking to Scout. His nose twitched and poked upwards. His head bobbed. His feet shuffled in place. His tail straightened. Then he sat down.

He was alerting. The scent he was asked to find was right here.

15

Creed hung back and watched as Sheriff Daniels and Deputy Perry stood in front of the debris pile. The sheriff had his hands on his hips and his head cocked to the side.

There had been no urgency in their steps. Even now, when Daniels glanced back over his shoulder at Creed, his voice carried obvious doubt. “You sure your dogs aren’t just smelling a dead animal? Smells to me like something crawled underneath and died right here.”

Creed let the question sit, but Jason couldn’t. “Our dogs don’t alert to dead animals. Human decomposition is a different scent.”

“So, they don’t alert to blood. They don’t alert to dead animals…” he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe his luck, like maybe he’d been conned. “Looks to me like this pile has been here for months. Could have been here years.”

“But recently it’s been added to,” Brodie said. “Maybe even moved.”

The sheriff and deputy turned to look at her as if they’d only now noticed her presence.

“Along the edges,” Brodie said as she came in closer and pointed. “Down here. The grass is dead back here. A whole wedge. Looks like something was removed or moved. And over here, all these crumbles of concrete and drywall are recent. They’re clinging to the tops of the tall grass.”

Both men just stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. If she noticed, it didn’t bother her, and she continued. “If they were here, say weeks ago when the grass was shorter, they would have fallen to the ground. Instead, they’re caught up only at the top of the grass where the moisture is.”

Creed glanced at Jason, who shot him a tight smile then wiped a hand over his face before the sheriff or his deputy saw it.

“The middle layers have been disturbed. Maybe even shifted or restacked.” She pointed to an area about waist high. “The green stuff that was growing in between here has died like it’s been pulled up and rearranged. Some of it’s wilted, so it hasn’t been that long ago.”

The men’s eyes darted from the pile to Brodie to each other. Neither said a word.

“Also, that hardcase cooler up at the top,” Brodie gestured to it. “That was added recently.”

“Now how can you possibly know that?” Deputy Perry finally asked. “Just because it’s cleaner than the rest? We’ve had rain.”

“See how the kudzu and those other vines have grown up and around? Even the wilted stuff? Nothing’s grown up over this top layer of drywall and broken concrete. Including the cooler. Nothing’s grown up over any of it…yet.”