Reckless Creed (9 page)

CHICAGO

A
lmost midnight and O'Dell couldn't sleep. Hotel management had overcompensated giving her a new room, this one with a view. She kept the television on, leaving it at one of the cable news stations though there was no news that interested her.

She had left a message for Agent Anthony Alonzo back at Quantico. She'd sent him the photo Platt took of the young man who had followed her. Alonzo could download it into their face-recognition program. If they were lucky maybe they'd get a hit.

She also e-mailed a list of information requests. Alonzo was a data wizard. These days almost everyone left an electronic footprint of some sort. If there was even a crumb, Alonzo would usually find it. Except for Dr. Clare Shaw. Nothing. They had come up empty, time after time.

She told the agent what Platt had said would be necessary for Shaw to grow the virus and asked that he try one more time to find a research lab in the Southeast. Was it possible they had missed a facility in their earlier hunt? Perhaps somewhere near Pensacola.

Alonzo also agreed to see if there was anything else he could
find about Tony Briggs. Tracking his last days might lead them closer to Shaw. Past experience had taught O'Dell that sometimes you could learn vital information about a killer by examining his victims. That was when she realized there was someone who could tell her more about Briggs than Agent Alonzo.

She was thinking about Jason Seaver when her phone rang. She recognized the area code. The call was from the Florida Panhandle. But it wouldn't be Jason calling. She thought immediately of Ryder Creed, and she hated the annoying flutter of anticipation.

“This is Maggie O'Dell,” she answered.

“Maggie, it's Hannah. Hannah Washington.”

Of course. Ryder wasn't the only person she knew within that area code. But that his partner had called, and that her voice sounded anxious, turned O'Dell's anticipation to worry.

“Hannah, what's wrong? Are you okay? Is Ryder okay?”

“Mercy, I'm sorry to be bothering you at this hour. No one's hurt. Not yet anyway. I've been racking my mind trying to think of someone who might be able to help us. I know Rye won't ask. But I'm not too proud. I have my boys to think about.”

“What is it, Hannah? Of course I'll help. Tell me what's going on.”

“We had quite a scare today.”

Hannah went on to tell O'Dell about the men in black SUVs who had come to their training facility. Armed men.

“Several of them wore hazmat suits. They were here to . . . dear God, I can't even say it. They were going to put down our dogs. Every last one of them.”

“I don't understand. Who were they?”

“The man in charge is an FBI agent named Lawrence Tabor.”

Hannah explained about the missing girl, Izzy Donner. How Ryder and Grace had helped find her body. And about the dead robins. Before today none of what Hannah was telling O'Dell would have warranted much concern.

“We got them to leave,” Hannah said. “But I know he'll be back. Is there any way you might be able to talk to him? Dr. Avelyn has the dogs quarantined. She sent samples of the dead birds in for testing, and she's waiting to hear from someone at the CDC. But I'm just afraid he'll be back sooner than all that.”

O'Dell jotted down as much information as Hannah had about Agent Tabor.

“Can they do that?” Hannah's voice was calmer now, but O'Dell could still hear a trace of fear.

“I'm not sure. I know someone at the CDC. I'll do everything I can to stop them.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Hannah, tell me about the young woman they found in the river.”

“Actually I don't know much about her. Rye said she looked peaceful.”

“Peaceful?”

“Said it looked like she loaded her jacket pockets with rocks, walked into the river, and just lay down.”

Suicide?

Instead of saying it out loud, she asked, “Why was Agent Tabor there? What was his interest in the case?”

“You know, I don't rightly know.”

“Is there any way you or Ryder could find out what happened to her?”

“Rye knows the medical examiner. I suppose he could give him or Sheriff Wylie a call. You think this has something to do with her? It's not just about some dead robins with the bird flu virus?”

“Wait a minute, Agent Tabor actually told you the robins might have the bird flu virus?”

“I believe that's what he said.”

O'Dell sat on the edge of the bed. She'd been pacing dressed only in her nightshirt, and now she was chilled. How would this Agent Tabor know? Or was he just guessing?

“Hannah, I'm in Chicago, but I'll be coming down to Pensacola perhaps tomorrow or early Wednesday.” She couldn't tell Hannah about Tony Briggs. She didn't know if his family had even been told yet.

“That would be a blessing to have you here.”

“If Tabor shows up again, call me or have him call me directly.”

“Thank you, Maggie.”

She ended the call and immediately pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt to ward off the chill.

Pensacola, Florida. Tony Briggs's hometown. Dead robins and a dead girl in a river that sounded like another suicide. She needed to add another name to Agent Alonzo's list. She grabbed her laptop to send the e-mail. Then she'd search for flights.

But the television screen caught her eye.

O'Dell reached for the remote and turned up the volume. A woman was talking to a reporter. The boxed graphic at the bottom of the screen identified her as Amee Rief, a biologist with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. What caught O'Dell's interest was behind the biologist.

Right at that moment the camera panned the area, giving her a
better view. The lake looked huge, and every inch of its surface was covered in white snow geese. Rief was explaining that these were migratory birds that usually stopped here every spring on their way to breeding grounds on the Arctic tundra.

Only these geese were dead. All of
them.

FLORIDA PANHANDLE

Y
ou look like hell,” Dr. Avelyn told Creed when he walked into Hannah's kitchen.

“Did you get any sleep?” Hannah asked. She was scrambling eggs in one skillet while bacon fried in another.

He shook his head and rubbed at his unshaved jaw. The bristles were longer than he usually kept them, but he figured that wasn't what the two women were noticing. He knew his eyes were bloodshot. He'd finished the morning chores and it was still dark outside. It had been a mistake letting Jason spend the night in his loft. The kid snored. Sounded like a chain saw.

He poured himself a cup of coffee. There were dark circles under Hannah's eyes. Dr. Avelyn looked rested and she smelled good, something citrus with a hint of coconut. He tried not to notice how good she could smell or look. He knew she was single, somewhere around his age, and she was attractive. But years ago he'd made a promise to himself and to Hannah that he wouldn't get involved—code word for “sleep with”—any women he worked with. Hannah insisted it would diminish their professional
reputation. Bottom line, Creed would never do anything he thought might hurt Hannah.

“I may have some good news,” Dr. Avelyn told him as he sat down across from her at the kitchen table.

He glanced up at Hannah. She already knew.

“You heard back from the CDC?”

“No, not yet. But I did hear from the state health department. Remember I sent them tissue samples of the robins the same day you found them? Yesterday after Tabor and his goons left, I called a friend who works there and told him about the situation. He tracked down the lab results. There's absolutely no indication of disease or the bird flu virus.”

“Any idea what killed them?”

“I only sent the tissue samples. They'd need the whole bird to check for trauma. Would you like me to do that?”

“There's no need, right?”

“No, the lab results eliminated the possible risks to the dogs and to us.”

Creed breathed a sigh of relief, so deeply Hannah looked over and laughed at him.

“That was almost my reaction.”

“With a string of hallelujahs,” Dr. Avelyn added.

“Grace is okay?” he asked.

“Yes. No worries of contamination. No quarantine. I did send tissue samples to the CDC, but I'll send them these results.”

“So we shouldn't have to worry about Tabor?” Hannah asked.

“I wouldn't think so. If he returns, I can share these results with him,” Dr. Avelyn said.

Creed's cell phone started to ring. He checked the time as he
looked at the caller ID. It was awfully early for a call from the Santa Rosa County medical examiner.

“Dr. Emmet.”

“Ryder, it's not my place to be calling you, but I can't get ahold of Sheriff Wylie. They told me he went fishing. Left for his cabin the other day. He's not even returning messages.”

Creed knew the medical examiner. They had worked on many cases over the years, and even though Creed wasn't a part of law enforcement, Dr. Emmet always extended him the courtesies as if he were one of them. He had even given Creed samples for training purposes—unclaimed teeth and bone, sometimes bloody clothing that the victim's family had declined.

“Is this about Izzy Donner? I haven't talked to Wylie since we found her body.”

“You didn't touch her, did you?”

“Excuse me?”

“How about your dog?”

“Neither of us touched the body.” Creed saw Dr. Avelyn and Hannah stop. Both women were staring at him.

“She didn't drown.”

“I figured as much.”

“No water in her lungs, but there was a lot of hemorrhaging. I didn't think too much about it when I did the autopsy. There was petechial hemorrhage. You know what that is, right?”

Before Creed could answer, Emmet continued, “It usually occurs when blood leaks from the tiny capillaries in the eyes. They rupture when there's increased pressure on the veins in the head when a person's airways are being obstructed. Lack of oxygen sometimes can cause hemorrhaging in the lungs too, but this girl's
lungs looked messed up. She was sick—very sick—before she ended up in the river.”

“Let me guess,” Creed said. “She may have had a deadly virus.”

“I don't know. I didn't get a chance to find out, but Agent Tabor said she may have had a new strain of the bird flu.”

“Tabor called you?”

“He was here. They took the girl's body late yesterday, stormed the place with what looked like a SWAT team. Assholes scared the crap out my staff. He had us locked up here. Had his own medical team poking us, taking blood and saliva samples. They finally cleared us about three this morning. I'm concerned about Wylie. Do you know how to contact him? I understand he helped fish her out of the water.”

“But how did she end up in the river? Could she have walked that far if she was so sick?”

“Oh, I'm sure someone put her there. Probably the same person who killed her.”

“Killed her? You mean she didn't die from the virus?”

“Sorry, I wasn't more clear. The petechial hemorrhage in her eyes wasn't from drowning. Based on bruising around the neck, I'm almost certain she was strangled to death.”

NEW YORK CITY

C
hristina had spent the night tossing and turning. By the time she got back to her hotel room she had been exhausted, weak, burning up with fever, and shivering uncontrollably.

She had done exactly what the man had asked and had not even put her hand in her pocket to feel what he had left there. It wasn't until she was safely inside her hotel room that she rushed to turn on all the lights. And then she had sat very quietly, rubbing her shoulders, waiting for the courage.

His words raced in her mind. Was he friend or foe? Certainly he wasn't one of the watchers if he didn't want anyone to see them talking together. And yet he seemed to know everything.

Most troubling was when he told her to make sure this item was on her at all times.

When you're done, it's important the authorities find it on your body.

The authorities. Not her handlers. Not the watchers.

Maybe she had misunderstood him. But her mind was still sharp enough to remember his words exactly even though she
didn't want to accept what they meant. He spoke of her death as if it were imminent. But her handlers had told Christina that the watchers were there to help her carry out her mission. They had injected her with a virus. She knew that. She allowed that. She knew she was supposed to spread the germs to as many people as she could.

She was told that it was a test, an experiment just like the other tests and experiments that she had volunteered for at the research facility in North Carolina. Each time she had been rewarded and paid well. Sure, some of the tests left her feeling disoriented, even nauseated, for several days after, but she had always been okay. Twice they had even provided a serum to help make her feel better afterward. So why was this man talking as if he expected her death?

And the object he had slipped into her pocket only added to the confusion.

The whole incident along with the fever had brought her strange dreams; some of them felt like hallucinations. At times she couldn't tell whether she was asleep or awake. She kept a lamp on, hoping it would help. It did not. It only added to her mind's confusion.

Her bedsheets were drenched with sweat. Finally, she had gotten up and wrapped herself in the luxurious soft robe that the hotel provided and tried to sleep in the chair instead of the bed. She was awake when she heard the rustle at the door. When the piece of paper slid underneath, she startled to her feet. On tiptoe she raced to the door, smashing her eye against the peephole. All she saw was a blurred thin figure hurrying away.

Christina carefully picked up the folded piece of paper and
carried it to the chair. Right now she had no interest in looking at what instructions the watchers had for her day.

Without unfolding it she placed it next to the item the man had slipped into her pocket. The small flash drive was useless to her. Without a computer she couldn't even look to see what was so important that it needed to be found on her dead body.