Page 43 of Desperate Creed

Creed let his eyes wander out the window. Blue skies, not a hint of the storms predicted for later in the day. He realized that was sort of how Brodie was. She nodded and said all the right things. She wasn’t afraid of any of the stuff he expected her to be afraid of: bugs, spiders, rats . . . even thunderstorms. Instead, she broke her food into tiny pieces, sometimes in an unconscious frenzy. She chopped at her hair until it was uneven, short and spikey. She washed her hands over and over again as if there were invisible stains that only she could see. There seemed to be an internal storm still brewing beneath her surface, though she pretended everything was blue skies.

He knew that PTSD worked differently in everyone. He had dealt with his own on his own terms. But he also knew that it could sneak up on you when you least expected it. When you thought you’d put it behind you. Just when you felt safe and secure.

“Back in Omaha, I was always afraid she’d run out of the facility and get hurt.” He glanced over and was surprised to see Jason had stopped eating to listen to him. “They couldn’t lock the doors. That only made things worse. Sort of like Molly. Remember when we tried to put her in a dog crate?”

Jason nodded. “She rammed her head against the grate so many times she made herself bleed.”

Molly was the mixed breed they’d found after a mudslide in North Carolina. The vehicle she was trapped in had been buried by the avalanche of mud and debris. Molly was the only one of her entire family inside the car to still be alive. Her story was one that Jason had shared with Brodie. Now, Creed realized the two had something in common. Both had panic attacks when locked inside small spaces.

“You know,” Jason said while he picked up a piece of bacon and started working on the rest of his breakfast, “I think she’s so much stronger than we all think. She survived for sixteen years. You and me didn’t even finish our tours of duty.” He paused to take a few bites, but was also measuring Creed’s reaction. Satisfied, he continued, “The first time I met her, do you remember what she said to me?”

Creed had been so worried about how Brodie would respond to all the new surroundings that he hadn’t paid any attention to introductions. He shook his head.

Jason held up his prosthetic hand and flexed the fingers.

“Most people are fascinated or appalled. Or a combination. Like ‘oh my God’ and ‘what the hell.’”

Creed smiled. The kid had come a long way to how he felt about it, too, but Creed wouldn’t remind him right now. Instead, he just listened.

“But Brodie,” Jason said while his eyes flitted to somewhere over Creed’s shoulders. Creed had gotten a glimpse of his eyes and was surprised at the emotion he saw there before Jason tucked it back away and continued. “She asked me if it hurt really bad. She senses stuff, you know. She sees things that we don’t even notice anymore, because we’re so used to seeing them.” He rubbed his good hand over his jaw.

Creed knew what he meant. A couple of weeks ago, one of the first warm evenings they’d had since she arrived in Florida, Brodie convinced him to pull out sleeping bags so they could look up at the stars all night. It was something they’d done as kids in their backyard. She made him point out different constellations, stuff he hadn’t thought about in years.

Creed’s phone started ringing, and he grabbed it out of his pocket. It was a number he didn’t recognize.

“This is Creed.”

“Mr. Creed, it’s Sheriff Krenshaw. Sorry for the early call, but I wanted to catch you before you headed back out. We found Mrs. Garner.”

Creed felt his jaw clench. He hoped his silence would coax the answer. Creed could feel Grace staring up at him, already sensing his tension.

“Turns out you were right about them being up there putting gas in. She’d gone in to pay and was trying to get back out to the car when it hit. Knocked her clean off her feet.”

At least her body wasn’t still out in that field tangled in some mess of debris. That’s what Creed was thinking about when the sheriff continued. Creed almost missed the part Krenshaw said about her being unconscious.

“Wait a minute,” Creed said. “She’s alive?”

“She was asking about her baby even as she was in and out of it. They had to take her in for surgery. Internal injuries. She’s still in critical condition, but they’re telling me she’s expected to recover. Prospects of that look much better now that she knows her little boy is still alive.”

“That’s great.”

“It’s supposed to get wicked again this afternoon. I wouldn’t blame you if you took off for home, but I’d sure appreciate it if you two stuck around. I have your rooms booked through the weekend.”

Jason was finishing the biscuits and gravy, and Creed realized that maybe he had an appetite now.

“We’ll stick around and head on home tomorrow.”

He didn’t want to stay away any longer than that. He knew Jason was right about Brodie. She was strong, but he also knew she was still terribly vulnerable. And it probably wasn’t a coincidence that her nightmare happened the first night he was gone.

30

Birmingham, Alabama

Willis Dean had slept on the sofa in his office. It wasn’t the first time he’d spent the night at the television studio, but it was the first time he felt like he had to. It wasn’t a problem. He kept a change of clothes and a toiletry kit. Shaving was tricky, and he had nicked himself good. He’d need to get makeup to cover it for him. And of course, his back was yelling at him that he wasn’t a young man anymore.

As soon as he woke up he checked his email and text messages. It wasn’t the ones from the National Weather Service that he was anxious to see. There were half a dozen of those already. Instead, it was the text message that wasn’t there.

What did he expect? Did he really believe his son could be right? That Beth would change her mind.