Breaking Creed Read Online Free PDF Page A

a knot.
    “He said he would always be here with me.” She avoidedZapata’s eyes. Actually, Leandro had never said such a thing, but Amanda took comfort in the small lie. She and Leandro had spent many hours alone together. How would the old woman know what had been said?
    Zapata turned to leave as she muttered to herself, “Dice muchas cosas.”
    Amanda didn’t understand, but from the way the old woman said it, she knew that Leandro would not be coming this time.
    She wanted to return to the cold tiled floor. Her eyes found the television screen again. As she slid her body down and curled up against the pain, she watched the handsome man with the little dog take his seat in the middle of the talk-show hosts. The caption at the bottom of the screen identified them as RYDER CREED AND HIS DRUG-DETECTION DOG , GRACE .
    The dog sat down at the man’s feet, leaning against him, its tail thumping against the floor. It looked up at the man, almost smiling and definitely happy to be with the man.
    Amanda laid her cheek on the cold floor. She closed her eyes as another wave of pain sliced through her stomach, and she thought, That’s all I am, one of Leandro’s dogs.

6
    PENSACOLA BEACH
    B ACK ON LAND , Creed watched tourists enjoying the crowded beach even as the sun began to sink. Kids raced each other and skipped in and out of the surf with squeals of delight. The sounds and play of happy children. It made the scene on the fishing boat seem even more horrific.
    He wanted to pack up his gear and head on home, but he had accepted an invitation from the flight crew to get a drink and an early dinner. Considering what they had just witnessed, the thought of food probably sounded odd to some. But for those who did this sort of thing for a living, Creed understood it was an integral coping mechanism.
    It didn’t bother him. Years ago he had learned to disassociate his stomach and hunger from emotion. The habit started when he was a marine and became more important when working with his search-and-rescue dogs. When they were on a cadaver search, itcould take hours and be in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by miles of woods or wetlands. The dogs had to eat for energy, even if they had just found a decomposed body or body parts. The dogs didn’t care if the air was filled with the stench of rotting flesh and the buzz of blowflies, so Creed had to learn not to care. Usually Hannah packed sandwiches for him along with the dogs’ meals. When his dogs ate, Creed ate. And Grace was ready to eat.
    He saw that Liz Bailey and Pete Kesnick had found a table on the busy patio that overlooked the Gulf. He was relieved to see just the two of them. Having peeled off his own flight suit and boots, he could still smell fish and wondered if everyone around him could smell it, too. But no one, other than Bailey and Kesnick, paid any attention to him.
    In the shadow of the new and contemporary Margaritaville Hotel, Walter’s Canteen looked like a ramshackle leftover. The place had survived hurricanes Ivan and Dennis, and though it enjoyed some of the hotel’s overrun, it was more popular with the locals than the tourists, many of whom came to dinner by boat and parked in a slip at the marina across the road. Some of them were also fishermen. Creed may not have noticed, but Grace did as they squeezed through the crowded tables.
    “It’s pretty busy,” Kesnick told him. “So we got you a beer.”
    “Thanks.”
    “And a bucket of shrimp,” Bailey added, shoving aside the plate with a pile of shells from what they had already peeled and eaten.
    Creed also noticed both of their bottles were almost empty, while the condensation had barely started to slide down the side of his. It’d take a lot more than a couple of beers to forget the sight of those kids lying like sardines under the floor planks.
    He off-loaded his backpack and sat down, pulling Grace in close, but she was distracted by Bailey’s outstretched hand. Normally, he’d rein her