Page 9 of Chasing Creed

His profile offered that he was a student at the University of West Florida and a part-time bartender at Margaritaville Hotel on Pensacola Beach. There were photos of him serving drinks. The most recent photo was taken with a pretty woman who looked older than Kyle. The selfie showed them walking hand in hand on the beach. Both barefooted. Her long hair trailed in the breeze. The Pensacola Beach ball water tower stood out behind them.

Brodie searched the comments and other posts, but there was no name attached to the woman, and she only appeared in that one photo. She couldn’t help thinking there was something oddly familiar about the woman.

Now, she glanced at the three dogs, making sure they were okay. They sat patiently, dressed in their search vests and ready to get to work. Hank’s eyes stayed on Brodie, and she checked to see if he was okay. She knew he could smell the blood. Not long ago, the big dog had watched his previous owner get killed. Hank had taken a bullet trying to protect the man. She put her phone away and squatted next to him. She put her arm around his big neck.

“You okay?” She scratched behind his ear, and the dog sighed, but his eyes didn’t leave her.

Movement caught Brodie’s attention. Back in the woods. Behind the waves of fog. She saw someone. It was only a flash.

She held her breath and watched. There between the trees. Was it a child? A girl? Peeking from behind the trunk of a live oak? She glanced at Hank. He was still watching her. Why didn’t he smell this person? She looked over at Grace and Scout. Scout was watching her, too. But Grace seemed to be watching the exact spot Brodie was. Her eyes darted back to the area. It was gone. Had it only been her imagination?

“Brodie?”

She startled at Jason’s voice.

“You okay?” he asked.

She had completely tuned out the two men. She looked over her shoulder to see Jason. Ryder had gone back to the vehicle. He was carefully maneuvering the car door’s handle using the latex gloves from his daypack. Even feeling a bit disoriented, she made a mental note to restock their packs.

“Hey, Brodie?” Jason asked again, watching her. “Are you okay?”

She glanced back at the woods. “I thought I saw someone.” She looked down at all three dogs. Grace was now watching Ryder.

Jason came up alongside her. His eyes scanned the same section of foggy woods.

“It’s nothing,” she told him quietly, hoping they were far enough away and with their backs turned to Ryder, he wouldn’t hear. It was bad enough how overprotective he was. She hadn’t shared with him about her nightmares. But Jason knew.

“You saw them out here?” he whispered.

He was referring to the Charlottes. The other little girls who were also taken by Iris Malone. Brodie had never seen them while she was kept by Iris, but she knew there were others. She had heard them sometimes behind the walls and up through the vents. She'd read the messages they’d left behind.

Brodie had confided in Jason during a panic attack once while they were on the road.

Although she’d never seen them during her captivity, they still came to her. Mostly at night. Stood beside her bed. She could hear them whispering. Feel their breath. If she reached out, she knew she could touch them. But she didn’t dare.

Instead, she’d squeeze her eyes tight. Then she fought to wake herself up. Mental jerks. A battle between her subconscious and conscious. She’d lie there without moving. Couldn’t move. Her body paralyzed. All she could do was listen. Eyes still tight. Frozen in place and listening. Until finally, she’d hear the big dog snoring next to her. Only then did she feel safe to open her eyes.

If Hank was snoring, no one was there. She was awake. She was safe. He’d become her protector, her guardian angel of the night.

Kitten was there, too. But the cat usually stared at Brodie. Body rigid. Eyes knowing. It was as if the cat remembered what they had gone through.

Maybe Kitten had her own nightmares. Or maybe Kitten could see the Charlottes, too.

Brodie didn’t quite understand. If she was getting better—and Dr. Rockwood had insisted she was—why did the Charlottes still come to her?

She couldn’t ask that question. Because if she did, she’d have to admit she still saw them. She’d have to admit they still came. Lately, they seemed to come even more frequently.

“They’re probably on your mind with the approaching trial,” Jason told her, startling her back to the present.

Brodie knew she might need to testify against Iris. She dreaded even the mention of it. How could she put it all behind her if she had to dredge it all up again?

“But I never even saw them,” Brodie said.

“Didn’t you tell me you heard them?”

He had stopped and was watching her now.

“Yes.” The voices were still vivid in her mind, those whispers echoing up through the vents.