He hadn’t been able to figure Maggie O’Dell out. Creed didn’t usually have much trouble with women. Relationships were a different story, but most of the time women enjoyed his company.
He had worked with Maggie on two other cases in the last six months. One that ended in Blackwater River State Forest had almost gotten the two of them killed along with Bolo.
He knew there was chemistry between them. Could see she felt it as much as he did. But this guy, Ben—Logan had finally given him a name—had a hold on her. It was just as well. It looked like they’d be working together again, and Creed had only one rule about women—he never slept with women he worked with.
Still, he found himself watching the door.
Someone put a hand on his shoulder. Creed turned to find Oliver Vance, his tray piled with empty, dirty dishes.
“Thanks again for helping today.”
“Have you gotten any word on Mrs. Hamlet?”
“Last I heard she was doing good. They’re keeping her overnight at the hospital.” He waved at the spot he and his crew were vacating—the entire end of a table in the corner of the cafeteria. “Get your dinner. Bring me a cup of coffee. I’ll hold down a couple spots.”
Creed glanced at the door. Workers were coming in for the second dinner shift. But still no Maggie.
“Cream or sugar?” he asked Vance.
“Both. And grab me a piece of cherry pie if there’s any left.”
“There’s cherry pie?”
“Homemade.”
Creed was still grinning at the big man’s enthusiasm when he headed for the line. That’s when he saw Maggie come in the cafeteria door. She stopped and her eyes searched for him among the tables. She had her FBI windbreaker on but had definitely showered and changed from earlier, yet her hair was tousled and damp, her face flushed as if she had jogged there. When her eyes finally found him she smiled. He waited at the end of the line while she weaved around the tables and politely broke through the clusters of rescue workers, turning some heads as she passed by.
For a few minutes he didn’t even notice the pounding in his own head.
45.
Creed had hoped to have Maggie to himself despite the crowded cafeteria. Vance had ended up having a second piece of pie and a third cup of coffee, talking endlessly when Maggie asked if he had family affected by the landslide. He did not. He actually lived across the state, but that didn’t stop him from bringing up photos on his cell phone of the wife and two girls he already missed terribly. By the time he got to the family dog pictures he realized he’d rambled. He clicked the phone off and tucked it into his shirt pocket.
“Your dogs are pretty damned amazing,” he told Creed, as if suddenly embarrassed and trying to stop hogging the attention. “Jason told me they’re all rescues that people dumped at the end of your property. Is that true?”
“Yeah, a lot of them are. I’ve gotten several from shelters. The breed oftentimes isn’t as important as the dog’s drive.”
“And the trainer,” Maggie offered.
“I’ve seen a lot of handlers get in the way, though.”
The big man was nodding and grinning. “Ain’t that the truth. One of my men worked with a FEMA handler and dog today. The dog alerted and they spent the next three hours digging up what they expected was a victim. Turned out it was a busted refrigerator with a whole lot of spoiled meat.”
“What was the trainer using for a reward?”
Vance shrugged.
“If they use food it might account for the dog alerting to the site. That’s why it’s best to use a toy.”
“Well, I sure wish I could have you back out with my crew tomorrow, but I know your boss and Agent O’Dell here are expecting you to work their site.”
“If they don’t have the floodwater diverted, we won’t be able to do a thing,” Maggie said.
“That must be where I saw the heavy equipment being trucked to. Funny, the feds will bust their asses to get anything necessary to recover a couple of dead guys, but I’ve been screaming for a couple more bulldozers and a few more dogs and all I hear are excuses.”
By the time they left Vance, the gymnasium lights had been dimmed. Creed had to strain to lead them through the rows of cots, most with already-sleeping occupants. Jason was stretched out on Creed’s cot watching a football game on his phone. When he saw them he sat up and gathered his stuff in silence.
Grace’s dog bed was between the two cots. She glanced up and wagged. Then she wiggled and started to get up when she saw Maggie, but Creed put his hand out for her to stay put. Maggie came around and patted her head as she sat on the cot that was saved for her.
Creed talked to Jason in whispers, making plans for the next day. He wanted him to stay with Grace. He also gave him a crumpled piece of paper from his daypack. On it was a name and phone number.
“This guy’s supposed to have something for me. Would you mind calling him?”
“Yeah, I can do that.” But Jason still hesitated. “You sure you don’t want to stay and rest? I don’t mind going back up with Bolo.”