Breaking Creed

36

This was not at all what O’Dell had expected.

Creed and Jason had left her. She could hear Grace squeaking her toy. They waited in a clearing about fifty feet behind her. She knew it was part of Creed’s routine. He did it out of respect for the law enforcement officers he worked with. He and his dog provided a service — search and find or search and rescue. He wasn’t trained for cadaver retrieval or evidence collection, and so he quietly left them. No questions asked. No sticking around to appease his curiosity. All he wanted to do was reward his dog and move out of their way.

But O’Dell had caught something in his eyes before he retreated with Grace. There was surprise and sadness mixed with unease that this might not be the only thing buried here. That this was only the beginning of what they might find. And in that brief passing glance, she noticed one other thing before he stepped away… she caught a glimpse of his dread.

Now, as she stood here alone, she shared that sentiment.

It was always tough when a child was involved. O’Dell had witnessed seasoned investigators tear up at the sight of a child’s body. As much as they trained and hardened themselves, that was the one thing that could dismantle almost every tough guy’s attitude. And she wasn’t immune to it either.

She had already called Sheriff Holt and asked him to bring in a forensic team. They would need to include the house and the outbuildings in their search. She hesitated now, holding a paper evidence bag that she had stuffed into her daypack earlier. She was more than qualified to collect this. She had done it many times before. But something stopped her.

The T-shirt looked to be the size for a small boy, maybe five or six years old. The blue-and-yellow-striped sleeve poked up and out almost as if its owner had just wiggled out of it. The other sleeve and half the chest were still buried in the dirt. From what she could see, there were no puncture marks, rips, or tears. However, rust-colored splatters stained the fabric. Even with the cloud cover and the canopy of branches, it wasn’t dark enough for her to use her black light. She didn’t really need to. She knew it was blood.

Fire ants.

That’s all she wanted to find here today. A possible crime scene where Trevor Bagley may have been tortured and, as a result, died. O’Dell had hoped to resolve whether or not Bagley was a drug dealer or a drug runner. All she wanted was to learn more about the victim, to understand his killer. But this…

Was it possible that Mrs. Bagley had taken the child and fled?

O’Dell tried to remember going through the house yesterday. There were no photos on display with any children. She was sure of that. The spare bedroom had not been decorated with the typical stuff that kids love. In fact, there had been a treadmill in the corner and storage boxes on the bed. She couldn’t remember seeing any toys, no bicycle or video games — there was nothing to indicate a child lived there. Even the breakfast that had been interrupted was set up for only two people, not three. Two adults — coffee mugs, no juice or milk glasses.

She squatted and examined the T-shirt again, without touching it. She realized she was holding her breath. She could be wrong about the blood. Then she remembered the altar set up in the Bagleys’ bedroom. She’d worked other cases involving all kinds of strange rituals. That someone had possibly tortured Trevor Bagley by tying him down over a massive amount of fire ants, that they had listened to him scream and writhe in pain — that alone was strange and cruel. But if a child was involved…

Her eyes made another careful scan around the immediate area. Except for where the T-shirt lay, the grass and dirt nearby didn’t look disturbed or dug up. There appeared to be no signs of a grave. But even that brought little relief. It certainly didn’t mean that a body was not buried close by, only that a killer may have been more precise.

More questions than answers. All the more reason they needed to continue looking.

O’Dell stood and folded the evidence bag back into her daypack. With her cell phone she snapped off several photos. Then she pulled out a bright orange ribbon and tied it to one of the branches at eye level and just above their discovery.

Finally she turned away, feet suddenly heavy, and walked toward Creed and Jason, stopping three times to tie additional ribbons to shrubs, marking a path for the forensic team. The underbrush was thick and it took effort not to get tangled. If it hadn’t been for Grace, no one ever would have ventured this way. O’Dell couldn’t shake the feeling that they had stumbled upon something that was never meant to be found.

When she looked up, the two men were watching her, waiting for her. Even Grace had stopped her play and had already relinquished her pink elephant. They were ready to continue.