Page 47 of Fallen Creed

“What are you thinking?” Hannah asked.

Before Jason could answer, Brodie said, “I’m going with you.”

—37—

Grand Island, Nebraska

Maggie met Lucy down in the hotel’s bar. The place was crowded and noisy. Most likely, the hotel had filled up with stranded motorists. She was grateful that Lucy commandeered a corner booth.

The scent of French fries and burgers on the grill reminded her she hadn’t eaten lunch. She slid in on the opposite side of the table, noticing Lucy’s drink. Usually, the medical examiner had a glass of wine. Tonight, a rocks glass sat in front of her with amber liquid.

“Have you eaten yet?” Maggie asked. The aromas tempted her, despite the knot twisting in her stomach.

Lucy shook her head. Her short black hair looked more tousled than usual, the white feathered streak more prominent.

“This is all I want right now,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the glass but not taking a drink.

“Are you okay?”

“Pakula brought me more pieces.” She swirled the amber liquid. When her dark eyes came back to Maggie’s, she said, “I haven’t found a single organ yet. I’m having a more difficult time with this than I thought I would. What kind of evil reduces a living person to mere pieces?”

A waitress appeared, asking Maggie, “What can I get you, hon?”

“I’ll have one of those,” she pointed at Lucy’s glass.

“Scotch, no rocks. Got it.”

“And a cheeseburger with a side salad.”

“You want the works on that burger, hon?”

“Sure.”

“Anything else for you, ma’am?” she asked Lucy before she left.

Lucy shook her head again.

When the waitress was gone, Lucy said, “You get ‘hon.’ Old lady me gets ‘ma’am.’”

“Actually, I would prefer ma’am. Strangers calling me ‘hon’ makes me want to slap them.”

Lucy laughed, a full-throated laugh that made Maggie smile.

“This has been one helluva a day,” Maggie said, running her fingers through her hair. It was still damp from her quick shower. “I saw Pakula’s SUV. Have you heard from him?”

“He had some phone calls to make.” Lucy sat back now taking a long look at Maggie. “He told me about Ryder going off the grid. How are you doing?”

“Me? I’m fine.” But Maggie could hear the false bravado in her voice.

The waitress brought Maggie’s drink, and both women went silent. Maggie took one sip and forced herself to set it down on the table when she wanted to knock it all back and enjoy the burning sting.

She had hoped the hot shower would relieve the tension in her shoulders and back. The tight-fisted drive in a slick snow tunnel should have taken her mind off of Ryder. Instead, it kicked up a gnawing panic in the pit of her stomach. Maybe food would help. It might improve her focus. She needed to concentrate on what she’d learned at the hardware store.

She glanced around the dark room. There was a steady hum of conversation, a constant click and clack of silverware on plates. Maggie leaned forward, elbows on the table, fists holding up her chin.

“This missing woman who Ryder and Grace are searching for? Libby Holmes? She’s not some lost soul attempting to hurt herself.”

“No?”