Breaking Creed

38

O’Dell handed her cell phone to Creed. She had called Sheriff Holt and explained to him what they had found. After a long silence Holt had asked her to “please repeat that.” He sounded out of breath.

The forensic team had arrived and had only just begun collecting evidence at the first site. There wouldn’t be enough ribbons in her daypack to leave a trail this far, so she handed the phone to Creed. He could give the coordinates according to his GPS tracker and hopefully lead the forensic team here.

On Creed’s instruction, Jason had taken Grace away from the area to enjoy her reward. Other than his first curses, the young man didn’t look fazed by their discovery, but then O’Dell didn’t expect him to be. A couple of things he had said earlier confirmed that he had not lost his arm below the elbow in some freakish industrial accident, but rather in combat, probably in Afghanistan. The vacant, brooding look on his face told her the loss was most likely recent — months, not years. So death was no stranger to him. Watching him with Grace, she caught him smiling at the dog’s crazy antics. To Grace, it had been a good day — two major finds.

But neither was what O’Dell was looking for. Not even close. She was, however, convinced more than ever that Trevor Bagley had also died out here on his own property.

She glanced at Creed. He had wandered away, trying to get a better signal on her cell phone. Now she saw him explaining to Sheriff Holt as he held his tracking monitor up. The overcast sky had begun darkening. Somewhere in the distance she thought she heard the faint rumble of thunder. They had maybe another hour if they were lucky.

The pile of leftover construction rubble had to hold some answers to this puzzle. O’Dell walked toward it, her eyes picking out pieces she could identify. Some of the wooden planks looked rotted. Certainly not from a new or recent project. The grass and underbrush had grown up around it. Even to get there she’d have to wade through an area of knee-high scrub.

The roll of wire mesh intrigued her. It reminded her of something you’d use for a window screen. She had seen gardeners put this fine of a mesh over plants to keep out pests. Or maybe, in this case, it was to keep insects in? Could it trap fire ants and keep them in one confined area?

She was almost close enough to touch it when the ground fell out from under her. She plunged down into the earth. The surprise sucked the air from her lungs. Her hip slammed against something hard before she landed on her knees. Moist burlap had broken her fall, as well as the wire mesh and branches that had been concealing the hole.

The sudden darkness made it impossible to see. She tried to catch her breath. Needed to wait for her eyes to adjust. Stanch her immediate panic before the claustrophobia grabbed hold.

She tested her feet underneath her. Clawed her way to a standing position. Her right knee hurt like hell but it didn’t collapse. With tentative fingers, she broke through the darkness. The dirt walls were wet and slick. About a foot on each side of her.

She looked up and her knees wobbled. The pit appeared to be twice as deep as she was tall. The overcast sky allowed very little light to filter down. She couldn’t hear Creed or Grace’s squeaky toy. Only muffled sounds, as if she had dropped out of existence.

“Creed. Jason,” she yelled. “Grace.”

She remembered her flashlight — not a flashlight, a black light — but even the UV purple-blue light would break the darkness. She shoved her hand into her daypack and fumbled around inside until her fingers found the long cylinder.

“Grace!” she tried again. Surely the dog would hear her and come looking.

She flipped the black light on and was disappointed to see how little it helped. Still, she swung the stream of light around her. Burlap hung from the walls in strips. Some of the rotted planks were thrown into the corner. That must have been what she had slammed her hip into.

She felt dirt falling on her head and looked up to find Grace peering over the edge.

“Hi, Grace. What a good girl.”

Out of the corner of her eye O’Dell saw something flit across the dirt wall just inches away. She jerked back and shot the black light at the spot where she had seen the movement. And suddenly the entire wall came alive. Dozens — no, hundreds — of scurrying creatures glowing bright blue, fluorescing in the black light.

She gasped, almost screamed.

“Maggie, are you okay?”

She heard Creed’s voice but didn’t dare look up, not wanting to take her eyes away for even a second. She couldn’t believe it. How was this possible? They had been searching for a torture chamber all day and she had literally stumbled into it. But there were no fire ants.

Oh God, if only there were fire ants.

“Maggie?”

She couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. All she could do was stand paralyzed and watch as the walls started to crawl with hundreds of fluorescent scorpions.