Mischief in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #2)(26)

Then another thought crossed her mind—what if it was Hank? He wasn’t exactly square with the local law, so hiding behind a bunch of crates waiting to talk to her wouldn’t be a stretch. “Hank? Is that you?” Silence.

She bit her lower lip, then pulled her cell phone from her pocket. She pressed in 9-1-1 and slipped her phone into her palm, her thumb hovering over the Talk button. At least she could scream. They wouldn’t have any idea where she was making the call from, but the police station was at the far end of town and surely someone would come running outside if she made the call. Surely.

She took a deep breath and headed toward the crates. One, two, three, four, five, she counted each step as she went, like knowing the number somehow made a difference. The crates were only twenty feet or so away and she stood stock still, trying to make out any shift in the shadows cast out into the street, straining to hear anything besides the wind blowing between the buildings.

Nothing.

She let out her breath and shook her head. You’re imagining things, Sabine, and the only thing you’re accomplishing is scaring yourself. What was the point? If she wanted to lay wide-eyed in her bed all night, there was a twenty-four-hour run of horror movies on one of the local channels. At least that way she could have dry, non-blinking eyes and a pounding heart in the comfort of her pajamas and her bed. Not to mention a glass of wine to thin the blood and a double-fudge chocolate brownie to top off the sugar coma.

Then something moved again, just beyond the crates.

If she hadn’t been looking directly at the shadows cast far out into the street, she would have missed the tiny sliver of movement, but she was certain she hadn’t imagined it. Something was behind those crates. The shadow had seemed too long for an animal, so that left only one other option. And the only reason to lurk in the shadows was if you were up to no good.

She tightened her grip on her phone and leaned over to the side, trying to peer beneath the car. “Hank, is that you? If it is, come out. You’re giving me the creeps.”

And that’s when he rammed her, his shoulder catching her right in the collar bone.

She’d grossly miscalculated, Sabine thought as she slammed down onto the sidewalk. He hadn’t been behind the crates. He’d been hiding in the shadows on the side of the car, not five feet from where she’d stopped to listen. She screamed as she hit the ground, pain shooting through her shoulder as it took the brunt of the fall. She struggled to press the Talk button on her cell phone, but the fall had jostled it in her hand, and Sabine was certain the call didn’t make it through.

She rolled over and jumped up as fast as possible, knowing that a standing opponent was in a much better position to defend themselves than one lying down, but she was no sooner standing than the ski-masked figure shoved her, trying to knock her to the ground again. Sabine struggled to maintain her balance, and for a moment, she didn’t think she was going to manage. But at the last moment, she managed to spin around and clock the masked figure in the shoulder with her heel.

The attacker stumbled backward. Through the slits in his mask, Sabine could see his eyes widen with surprise. He paused only a second to stare at her, then turned and ran into the woods at the edge of downtown. Sabine stared after him, sending up thanks for the seven years that she’d spent the time and money driving to New Orleans for martial arts lessons. Finally deciding that he wasn’t going to try for a repeat performance, she picked up her cell phone from the sidewalk and hurried down the sidewalk to the police station.

No use sending up the alarm…especially not with Mildred right across the street and already worried about her. Her attacker was long gone and short of an Olympic sprinter or a bloodhound, there was going to be no catching him. Not tonight anyway. She paused for a moment before opening the door to the police station. This was really a waste of time, and she knew it, but regardless of their ability, it was still their problem. Maybe if odd things continued to happen around town, the city council might just figure out that an inept ex-fisherman and his otherwise unemployable nephew might not be the best choices to keep the city safe. She sighed as she pulled the door open.

Getting a competent police force was as likely as the town banning beer and losing religion.



Sabine exited the police station after what was probably the most frustrating thirty minutes of her life. Oh, there was a whole lot of writing—longhand—on legal pads, and the constant nodding and glances between Leroy and his idiot nephew, but it all amounted to nothing. The reality was, the business with Maryse had shocked the town but absolutely no one was willing to believe it was anything but an isolated incident—the ravings of a madman. And now that the madman was gone, there couldn’t possibly be anything more than the normal redneck offenses going on in Mudbug.

At least that’s what they wanted to believe.

There was noise across the street and she looked up in time to see the last of the patrons leaving the restaurant and the owner locking the door behind them. She glanced down at her watch and sighed. It was past time for her to be in pajamas, and she was going to regret every minute of her Kill Bill routine the next morning when her alarm went off.

“Is everything all right?” The voice sounded close to her and caused her to jump. Beau was standing next to his truck.

“Oh,” she said, flustered. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”