Stranded

number he had called belonged to an FBI agent. “He doesn’t believe our highway killer is involved in this. He thinks the boys were playing some weird game with each other that went too far.”
    “Occam’s razor,” Creed offered.
    Maggie looked at him in surprise.
    “The easiest explanation is often the correct one,” he said and smiled. “You think that just because I use a dog instead of a gun that I don’t know stuff?”
    “That’s not true,” she protested too quickly, most certainly helping indict herself. She could feel a flush of embarrassment and tried to turn it around. “I know you know stuff.”
    That made him smile. He wiped the back of his hand over his jaw as if he were trying to wipe the smile off or keep it from taking over his face. That small gesture made her realize how much she liked that he was here, and the realization caught her off guard.
    “So how does he explain your phone number?” Creed asked, getting back to business.
    “He has no answer for that. He also thinks the teenager we’re looking for might still be alive.”
    “Thus the search and rescue.” Creed waved a hand over Grace’s new uniform.
    “And that might be a mistake.”
    “Because you think he’s dead?”
    “Yes.”
    “That’s important for Grace and me to know.”
    “You’re right. I didn’t realize that until you were putting hergear on. If you instruct Grace to search for a live person, will she miss finding his corpse?”
    “He’s been missing, what? Twenty-four hours?”
    “More like forty-eight.”
    Creed looked like he was calculating it in his mind. He rubbed his fingertips over his right temple and his eyes scanned the landscape beyond the rest area where they would start their search.
    “They know a finger’s been cut off, right?” Creed asked.
    “Yes.”
    “But the surviving boy …”
    “Noah.”
    “He had lots of blood on him when he was found?”
    “That’s right. Most of it not his.”
    “Weather’s cool. Even if the body’s been disarticulated, decomp should be minimal. That much blood and it’s about forty-eight hours fresh, she’ll scent it.” Then he bent down to pat the dog’s head. “Won’t you, Grace?”

CHAPTER 41

    Creed didn’t like this.
    Not even a half hour into the search and Grace was already leading him up into the rocky limestone bluffs behind the rest area. Pebbles replaced dirt underfoot. Patches of grass, wildflowers, scraggly pines, and short redbuds with purple blossoms sprouted out of the cracks and crevices. And the wind was picking up.
    The farther away they got from the rest area and the higher they climbed, the more rugged the terrain became. Grace hadn’t experienced anything like this and Creed was starting to question his own judgment. But already the dog’s nose was high in the air. She was breathing more rapidly. Both were signs that she was in a scent cone.
    Maggie, Tully, and Detective Lopez followed. Creed asked them to stay back ten feet and a few minutes ago he’d asked them to please keep conversation to a minimum. He heard Lopez mumble under his breath, but Creed didn’t care as long as he shut up. The detective had found it necessary to tell Creed every step of the way that his men had already gone over all of these same paths. Lopez claimed they had found nothing the day before. It was a waste of time to do it again.
    Creed was surprised that Grace could smell something thissoon. He couldn’t see any rust smears or smudges. No dark-colored droplets. The light color of the limestone would certainly show bloodstains. He tried to pay closer attention to the foliage, looking for broken branches, a swatch of fabric, maybe a thread or two.
    Suddenly he stopped Grace. He held out his hand to stop the others. Then he made Grace sit. She obeyed reluctantly, her haunches waggling all the way into a sitting position. Then Creed took a few steps forward into the path. He squatted down to examine a thorny vine that sprawled over the rock. Touched it. Poked a finger and jerked back his hand. It had drawn blood. He sucked the injured finger.
    “What is it?” Maggie asked.
    He waved them forward while he told Grace to stay put. He leaned down for a better look. All the way down until he was braced on one elbow.
    “This vine is crossing the path.”
    “Wow! We would have never found that without your help.”
    Creed ignored the detective’s sarcasm. He carefully pinched the vine between thorns and lifted a section.
    “Looks