Silent Creed (Ryder Creed #2)

But none of that would be possible if she wasn’t able to find some positive optics to help her win reelection, and that’s what she hoped this congressional hearing would do.

She elbowed her way up the final stretch of steps and made it through the doors without having to make a comment and, more important, without hearing a single derogatory slur hurled at her. A good start to the day. Yes, crazy that no one calling her a drug whore or puta was enough to count as a good day.

Ellie’s chief of staff joined them in the entrance, taking his usual place, walking alongside her. His greeting was curt. Instead of a customary cup of coffee, he handed her a folded piece of paper without breaking stride.

There were too many people around for her to ask about it, especially after he had taken such pains to hand this message to her without attracting any attention. And because she didn’t trust her reaction to not attract attention, she’d need to wait. But she already knew her good start had just been upended.





5.



Haywood County, North Carolina



Creed had left behind a sunny, warm day to plunge down into bruise-colored gray that made the afternoon look like night. The pilot managed to land before the lightning kicked up again. Creed asked Isabel Klein how long it had been raining.

“It hasn’t stopped.”

Creed had worked the aftermath of three hurricanes, helping to search for survivors as well as those who weren’t so lucky. Weather could often be your biggest adversary during a search. Rain and wind affected scent by dispersing it. Temperature added more challenges. Heat helped advance decomposition, but hot and humid weather could wear down a dog and the handler. September in North Carolina should be manageable. He had checked the forecast to see seventies during the day and fifties at night. The rain could change both.

Landslides brought a bunch of other challenges. It might seem counterproductive to want the rain to continue, although a mist would be preferable to this downpour. But as soon as the rain stopped and the dirt and mud began to dry, it would be like hunting for scent through concrete. Last year he’d spent six days in Oso, Washington, after a landslide that claimed forty-three lives.

During the drive to the site, Creed and Bolo sat in the backseat. He’d connected the safety belt through the dog’s harness but kept a hand on Bolo’s back. The downpour made it impossible for Creed to get a sense of the local terrain. When he glanced at Bolo, the dog’s nose was pressed against the opposite window, as if he were trying to do the same thing.

The two of them had worked together in similar weather. The rumble and occasional crash of thunder didn’t alarm the dog. Like most of their dogs, Bolo had come to Creed and Hannah as a rescue. He hadn’t been a year old, still had his puppy teeth, but they could only guess his pedigree. Hannah was convinced Bolo had to have some Labrador retriever mixed in him. Ridgebacks weren’t natural swimmers, but Bolo’s webbed toes—similar to those of a Lab—contributed to the dog’s love of water. He wouldn’t mind the rain, but Creed would need to keep him from bounding into flooded areas. In his mind he was already calculating all the obstacles and risks. That’s when he thought about the one that might be the biggest obstacle.

“Is Logan meeting us at the site?”

At first he wasn’t sure if she heard him over the battering of the rain on the roof of the vehicle and the accelerated swish-swish of the windshield wipers. Then he saw Isabel exchange a look with the driver before she answered. “No, I think he’s stuck in D.C. until tomorrow.”

Creed pretended it was no big deal. He certainly didn’t need Peter Logan there in order to do his job. As a matter of fact, it would probably make his job easier. What didn’t sit right with Creed was that the urgency somehow didn’t warrant Logan’s presence.

“Who’s in charge of clearing the area we need to search?” he asked.

Again, the pair exchanged a glance. He wanted to tell them he didn’t need to know their classified bullshit. He just needed some basic information. When Isabel took too much time to answer, Creed realized that it might not be a reluctance to share but rather that she didn’t know.

As if reading his thoughts, she shrugged and finally said, “Of this particular area, I guess we are.”

He waited for a laugh that never came. She wasn’t joking. And in that short response she had just told him volumes. Isabel Klein had never been involved in a search and rescue of a disaster site, or any other site, for that matter.

Creed stroked Bolo’s neck, more in an effort to keep himself calm rather than Bolo. Both of them had worked with amateurs before. Didn’t mean he had to like it. Creed wasn’t necessarily a rules kind of guy, but protocol in dangerous circumstances helped protect his dogs.

Bolo turned to look over at Creed, eyes searching out his. He knew that look. Bolo was anxious to get to work—actually, to get to play. If only it were all that simple.





6.



Pensacola, Florida

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