“As I remember, both of you saved me once.”
She walked alongside him. They kept to the sidewalk across the street from the high school to avoid the rescue crews starting to come in. He let Maggie lead them away from the noisy engines and boisterous exchanges. The rest of the town’s streets remained fairly quiet.
“I need you to tell me about Peter Logan,” she said, and Creed found himself disappointed. He wasn’t sure what he had hoped she wanted to talk about, but it certainly wasn’t Logan.
59.
You seem to have some sort of loyalty to Logan,” Maggie said. “And yet there’s an animosity between the two of you.”
“Yeah, that’s true. I don’t like him.”
“And the loyalty?”
“It’s not loyalty. I owed the man a favor. He’s collecting it.”
When Creed noticed Maggie shivering he pointed to the neon light of a small diner. They settled into a corner booth. The place smelled like greasy fried food, and despite how good the free meals had been at the school cafeteria, both Creed and Maggie ordered cheeseburgers and fries.
“How do you know each other?”
“If you want to know about Peter Logan, why not ask your friend Ben?”
She looked away, out the window, and Creed wanted to kick himself.
“Look,” Creed said, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just that before this week I hadn’t seen or heard from Logan for about seven years. I don’t know much about him at all. It sounds like Ben works with him. He must have a helluva better understanding of him than I do.”
“I’m here because Ben asked me to check on a couple of victims who may have been murdered. The facility was federally run by DARPA. So the murders will be a federal investigation. My boss approved me to come down here.”
To Creed it seemed as if Maggie was going through this explanation for herself as much as for him. Like she needed the reminder of why she was even involved.
Their waitress, who had introduced herself as Rita, interrupted them with their Cokes, served in tall glasses made of red plastic.
Outside Creed noticed the clouds were feathery wisps, allowing an almost full moon to finally shine.
“We were in Afghanistan together,” Creed said as he watched streetlights flick on and more neon fill store windows. “My K9 unit was assigned to Logan’s platoon. He was the platoon leader.”
“So you were comrades.”
“No. That’s not the way it is. K9s move from one platoon to another for weeks at a time. For that reason we’re the outsiders. Also we’re the first out, first to die. They know not to get attached to us. But they have to depend on us to get them through a field. What we do—it’s always a little bit like magic to them. They’re not sure whether we’ll end up saving them or getting them all killed.”
“That’s why Logan calls you dogman. I didn’t know you were in the military.”
“I signed up to escape. After Brodie was taken, life just kind of crumbled.”
“How old were you at the time?”
He glanced at her. They’d never talked about this, but he figured she knew that his sister’s disappearance had been the reason for starting his business. Even Jason had found out that much by doing a simple Internet search. Maggie was FBI. She had access to much more.
But she couldn’t know—no one knew—how agonizing those searches in the beginning had been. Hell, who was he fooling—many of them were still agonizing. Because each time he found the unidentified cadaver or remains of a young woman, he found himself wondering if it could be Brodie.
“I was fourteen. Brodie was eleven. My mom was obsessed with searching. She’d get a tip about a little girl fitting Brodie’s description and she’d drop everything and go. One week it’d be LA. Then Houston. Portland. Chicago. It was crazy. After a while she went a little crazy. And yet it was my dad who ended up shooting himself.” He shook his head at the irony.
Rita interrupted again, setting down platters with burgers, fries, and enough garnishes to make a salad. She thumped down a bottle of ketchup and a jar of mustard, asked if they needed anything else, and off she went, leaving a new and awkward silence.
Despite the circumstances, Creed’s mouth watered as he smothered the fries in ketchup.
In between bites Maggie asked him, “How did you choose to be a K9 handler?”
“Brodie and I always had dogs growing up. As far back as I can remember I guess I always preferred their company. Present company excluded.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re gonna want whatever fries you think I won’t be able to eat.”
“Oh, I’ve seen you eat before. I’m pretty sure there won’t be leftovers.”
They enjoyed their meals and Maggie didn’t ask any other questions. It was Creed who brought up the subject again. Maybe he felt like he owed her for saving Bolo. For saving him, too. Besides, it didn’t matter anymore.
“When I was with Logan’s unit I knew he was selling stuff on the black market.”