Page 84 of Chasing Creed

Orlando had taught her that.

He’d taught her many things, most of them useless. At least, for everyday living. But he was the master in his field. As much as she wanted, expected and hoped to outsmart him, she still couldn’t always predict his next move.

She shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d arrived at Nina Wrobel’s hideout not long after sunrise. He’d beaten Sara there by minutes. A half hour, at the most. Nina wouldn’t have expected either of them in the morning. Getting through another night would have been her goal. Morning would have provided a false sense of security. She might not have even been awake when he made his way down to her basement bedroom.

Except Shadow was.

She petted the dog without realizing she was doing it. Only a few days, and it had become instinctive. It calmed her, settled her in a way she couldn’t explain.

A tall, black woman stood in the front doorway. She was pretty and wore slacks with a colorful blouse. This place, this house, this woman, all reminded Sara of something she would have only read about in a novel.

“This is it,” Sara told Shadow. “You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

She climbed out of the truck and gave the woman a friendly half smile and a wave as she made her way over the flagstone pathway to the front porch.

“Hello,” Sara told her before the woman had a chance to ask. She stayed at the edge of the flagstone and didn’t attempt to step closer to the porch. “My name is Sara. Sara Tate.”

“You’re a long way from home, Sara Tate,” the woman said with a rich voice that was like a melody, and eyes that looked so deeply into Sara’s eyes that she was afraid the woman would know exactly why she was here.

She reminded herself that the best lies were the ones closest to the truth. She’d learned that from Iris.

“I’m looking for Brodie Creed. I understand she lives here?”

This time, the woman raised one eyebrow.

“What business do you have with Miss Creed?”

Miss Creed. It sounded so proper. So grownup. So legitimate. In all of Sara’s young years she’d never heard anyone refer to her as Miss Tate.

Sara swallowed...hard. The reaction was not a trick or intentional. Her next words were difficult, because she’d never said them out loud. Never even admitted them to herself.

“I was one of Iris Malone’s victims, too.”

58

Creed had watched the old truck pull into his driveway. The camera at the end of the property had triggered a motion alert. Seconds later, Jason had texted:

We have company.

Relief washed over him when the next camera showed the driver was a woman and the passenger, a dog.

He reported the information to both Jason and Hannah.

Creed had been watching from his loft apartment above the kennels. Grace slept on the sofa where she could see him, one ear perched and listening despite her occasional snores.

His big screen monitor displayed about a dozen open frames. Each one gave him a different view of his property. The two that monopolized his focus were the newly installed high-tech trail cams that Jason had put up and concealed.

The first one gave a bird’s-eye view of the riverbank. It included the hidden inflatable boat. Since yesterday morning, no one had returned to use it. Creed wondered if the intruder knew he’d been made. Had he discarded the boat and found another way? Or had he never left the property? Was he somewhere out there, lying in wait for the right opportunity?

The second camera overlooked the huge live oak and Brodie’s meadow. If he zoomed in, he’d be able to see the cigarette butts at the base of the tree. No one had shown up at this spot either.

He glanced at the feed from the camera on the house’s porch. Hannah was speaking to the woman. He could turn on the audio, but he didn’t want the distraction. If Hannah needed them, she’d only have to tap on one of the apps Benny had installed on all their phones. It was a sort of SOS that alerted all of them in real time and activated the user’s camera immediately to show what was happening.

That’s if the person in need still had the phone somewhere nearby.

He’d reminded Benny that no matter how high tech the apps and cameras were, a dropped cell phone was useless. Benny’s answer was that “it was what it was” until he could get his drone up to fill in the gaps. That wouldn’t be for another three or four more hours.

They were being proactive. They were prepared and ready.