Stranded by Alex Kava Page B

his nerves were firing, his fingers itching.
    “Bonnie loves puppy dogs, don’t you, sweetie,” a woman said.
    Creed glanced back to see her.
    The young woman came over. She was in jeans and a denim jacket.
    “Is it okay for her to pet your dog?” she asked Creed.
    “Absolutely.”
    The woman waved the little girl over and she started to rush. “Slow down. Don’t spook her. And be gentle. Like this.”
    The woman gave Grace her hand for Grace to sniff it, waiting for permission. Then she stroked Grace’s back. The little girl mirrored the woman’s gestures, giggling when she finally touched Grace.
    “Bonnie adores dogs,” she said to Creed.
    “No school this week?” Creed asked casually.
    “Spring break. We thought it would be a treat to join Rodney. Show Bonnie what it is he does all week when he’s away.”
    The man was actually smiling now, watching the little girl.
    “See Rodney, just because you’re scared of dogs—”
    “I’m not scared.”
    “He had a dog attack him when he was a little boy, so he doesn’t trust them.” Then to her husband, she said, “I can’t believe you took her to the bathroom without putting her shoes on.”
    “She didn’t want them on, then she was crying that she was getting her socks dirty.”
    The more the couple bickered, the more Creed relaxed.
    They sounded like a normal family.

CHAPTER 18

    He slipped two receipts into the back-cover pocket of his log book, then turned to a new page and jotted down:
Tuesday, March 19
10:47 p.m.
Pilot Plaza #354, Sioux City, IA
    He had just filled his gas tank and had done a quick maintenance check. He was ready to head out on the road again. He was still flying high on adrenaline. Not only had he been able to hear what everyone thought about his handiwork back at the farm, but he had also been able to finally meet Maggie O’Dell face-to-face.
Magpie: even more exquisite up close
    He’d even bought her a beer … well, a round of beers for all of them. But it gave him surprising pleasure to watch her drink it. He cataloged the details now on the flip page of his log book:
Sam Adams lager
    He liked that she waved off a frosted mug, choosing to sip directly from the bottle. He took note of what and how she ordered her food, too, adding to his page:
Cheeseburger, medium-well
cheddar cheese, bacon, extra pickles
side of fries (lots of ketchup)
    She thanked the waitress whenever she brought Maggie something, taking the time to notice that her name was Rita and using it, glancing up and making eye contact. No one else paid attention to the woman as she served them, reaching over and around again and again all evening long.
    He saw that Maggie left her a nice tip, too, even though someone else had picked up the tab. He should have been quicker. He could have bought her meal, too, but someone beat him to it and he didn’t want to make a fuss.
    Until today he had observed Agent Margaret O’Dell only from a distance, but he felt like he’d known her for years. From the first time he saw her he realized they were kindred spirits. And no, he wasn’t easily attracted to pretty women. It took more than a pretty face to grab his attention these days. Besides, he was a professional, just like Maggie.
    Last month he had watched her at a crime scene, a warehouse in D.C. that had been gutted by fire. He had also watched the asshole who set it on fire. Same asshole who later torched Maggie’s house. If he had seen him doing it, the guy would be maggot food right now. He never really understood the fascination with fire.
    The only reason he had been at that warehouse that night was because he was dumping a body in the alley. Sometimes he liked todo that. Then stick around so he could be there when people discovered his handiwork. Once he even called 911 to report a body so he could observe the first responders. It wasn’t just to get off on it like some stupid sons of bitches. He actually learned a lot by watching the investigators, getting