Stranded

the console and opened the driver’s window.
    “You need to turn around,” the deputy said, stopping in front of the Jeep’s grill and motioning with one hand while keeping the other on his gun belt.
    It looked like he wasn’t going to bother coming to the window, so Creed held up his ID to the windshield.
    “My name’s Ryder Creed. I’m with CrimeScent K-9.”
    The deputy looked young and nervous. He also didn’t seem to expect anyone who wasn’t in official law enforcement gear. He pulled out his cell phone and was punching in a number, trying to do it while not taking his eyes or his attention away from Creed.
    He heard the deputy say, “Some guy with a dog,” not even bothering with Creed’s name or his business’s name. It didn’t matter. In seconds his face turned a bright red and he slipped the phone back into his uniform’s shirt pocket without saying anything.
    He pulled his wide-brimmed hat low over his brow before he yelled to Creed, “You’re good to go.” And he waved his thumb over his shoulder. Then he headed back to his SUV to move it so Creed could pass by.
    Creed shook his head. “Amateurs, Grace,” he said to the dog, glancing back at her in the rearview mirror. She was wagging her tail again but still sitting, still obeying despite her excitement. “They’ve got us working with a bunch of amateurs, girl.”

CHAPTER 27

    Maggie shook her head at Tully while he opened the last Hostess Honey Bun that he had taken from the hotel’s complimentary breakfast bar. She hoped it meant that his appetite had returned and he was feeling better.
    By the time they arrived at the farm, Sheriff Uniss and his men had set up a perimeter with security posts at three places where they believed the property might be vulnerable to intruders. And by intruders they knew he meant media.
    As far as the sheriff was concerned, this was a crime scene that still needed to be protected and processed. He knew Tully had called for a K-9 unit, but neither Maggie nor Tully had shared with him the killer’s map or their suspicions about this being his dumping ground. Assuming most of the excitement was over, the sheriff had left, grumbling that he had to go deal with the governor’s press secretary. For his sake, Maggie hoped they didn’t find anything … or anyone … else.
    Earlier when Maggie relayed Gwen’s prison visit she tried to ignore the pained look on Tully’s face. She knew he’d be remembering the last time Gwen had interviewed a convicted prisoner. He had been there. She went through the information quickly and prompted him to share what he had. Agent Alonzo was becomingtheir right-hand man despite being twelve hundred miles away. Now, as they walked along the grove of trees, out of earshot of the deputies, and toward the barn, Tully filled her in on what he knew.
    “The receipt was for a Walmart outside of Council Bluffs, Iowa, just off Interstate 29.”
    “Council Bluffs is next door to Omaha, right?” Maggie remembered from their own road trip yesterday morning. They had landed in Omaha and drove that same stretch of interstate highway.
    Tully was trying to decipher the notes he’d taken while talking to Agent Alonzo. The crosshatch marks didn’t even resemble words but rather looked like someone had tried to test whether a pen still had ink.
    “Alonzo said the Walmart does have security cameras in the parking lot. He’s checking but he said it’s doubtful they have anything. He said most of these places don’t store more than a week’s worth of footage. He’s got someone from the Omaha bureau checking on it. Sounds like a long shot that we’d even see this guy. He strikes me as someone who’d be conscious of where cameras would be and try to avoid them.”
    “Were the CSU techs able to pull any fingerprints off the receipt?”
    “No, and I doubt they will. My gut tells me that’s gonna be a dead end. We found the receipt because he wanted us to find it. Just like the driver’s license.”
    “Was there anything else in either bag?”
    Tully shrugged. “You mean other than a head in one and a decapitated body in the other?”
    “Anything under the fingernails?”
    Tully fished another scrap of paper out of his pocket andsearched through more chicken scratches. “They did preliminary scrapings. Chunks of dirt.”
    “Chunks of dirt?”
    “Janet said it looked like—” Tully flipped the paper over, then frowned like the words left a bad taste in his mouth.