Page 62 of Chasing Creed

“Allegedly. Yes. He led us to Kristel’s body. Admitted to killing her. We know she was taken from a busy interstate truck stop when she was twelve years old. Her family submitted her DNA sample to CODIS after she disappeared. That’s how we were able to identify her. She’s on this list with her PLS as Lake Wanahoo. That’s where we found her.”

“PLS,” Alonzo said.

“Place Last Seen.”

“I know. But that’s a law enforcement acronym. Would a regular person know that?”

“Good question.” Maggie said.

“Do you recognize anyone else on the list?”

“One other. I just met her yesterday morning. At the morgue. Her body was pulled from a lake here in Omaha. To be fair, we don’t know for sure she’s the person on this list. She hasn’t been identified yet.”

“Then what makes you think she’s on the list?”

“The PLS is Chalco. That’s the name of the recreation area where the lake is. The ME’s time of death is yesterday morning.”

“Huh! I’m looking over it now. This guy’s been busy. Cheyenne last week. Starkville three or four days ago? Nebraska this morning? And he’s even telling you ahead of time that he’s headed to DC to take out another one tonight.”

“Now that we know their names, I’m hoping you will find more information about these women.”

“In particular, were they young girls who ever went missing.”

“It’s a start. Brodie Creed insists there were others. She believes she heard them. One of them led her to an RV at an interstate rest stop. The person who left the list seems to be telling us these women were Charlottes. Even gives them a number. But unless we make some connections, it’ll only be Brodie’s word against Iris Malone’s.”

She went quiet, thinking about Brodie surviving. It was a miracle they had even found her. And the others? If this list were to be believed, these Charlottes were already dead. It sounded strange, but Brodie might actually be the lucky one.

42

Mississippi

Creed was back in the woods. Grace pulled and tugged and rushed them into the middle of another graveyard of rusted vehicles. He couldn’t wait for Norwich. He could barely keep up with Grace.

Headlights streamed through the branches and helped him search. He peeled back kudzu just to get to the glass. Shined his flashlight. Something alive skittered across the cracked seat of the old pickup.

Nobody here.

He moved on to the next vehicle. Even before he got to the trunk, he heard thumping coming from inside.

A noise distracted him. Besides the thumping, he heard something else. A swishing sound. Like a river. Only with a very strong current. And suddenly, water started gushing around his feet. It was ankle-deep. Like whitewater rapids, it came racing through the trees.

He threw the flashlight down. Dug fingertips along the edge to pry the trunk open. The thumps grew louder. His fingers started bleeding, but the metal wouldn’t budge.

Muddy sludge swirled up to his knees now. Debris knocked against him, threatening to shove him off balance. Frustrated, he pounded on the trunk with bloody fists.

The thumps stopped. Creed stopped. Held his breath to listen.

The water was waist-high now.

Suddenly, there was a click and a pop. The trunk shifted. He yanked it up. Thick black sludge poured in, filling the space around the body. It was a woman in a fetal position.

“Brodie!”

Creed jolted up. In the dark, he could feel Grace beside him, nosing him, licking his hand. Panting. Worried.

It took him a few seconds to recognize the hotel room. His freshly showered body was slick with sweat. The bedcovers tangled around his feet.

He pulled the little dog against him.