Mischief in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #2)(83)

Beau nodded and felt his jaw tighten. It was very slick, very smooth. To have done all the things they imagined, Martin Alford couldn’t be completely sane, but he wasn’t all-out crazy like Frances. He was cunning and clever. Beau slowed as they approached the bridge, praying that Alford had lied and that the water hadn’t risen since the attorney had made his escape. He blew out a breath of relief when he saw the water swirling just underneath the wooden structure.

“He lied,” Sabine said. “Thank God, he lied. Now if we can get to Mildred in time…”

“We’ll get there.” Beau pressed the accelerator halfway to the floor and the truck launched over the bridge and onto the road beyond. “Check the phones. See if we’ve got a signal yet.”

Sabine grabbed Beau’s phone from the seat next to her and looked. “No, damn it.” She pulled her own phone from her pocket and peered at the display. “One bar.”

“Try it. Call 911.”

Beau glanced over as Sabine punched in the numbers and was certain she was holding her breath. The relief on her face let him know right away that the connection had gone through. Sabine handed the phone to Beau. “You explain. I’m going to sound hysterical.”

Beau took the phone and gave the local cops a brief description of the situation at the Fortescue mansion, then explained the situation with Mildred. The dispatcher was stunned, but he promised to get police to the Fortescue mansion and the Mudbug hospital as fast as humanly possible. Beau pressed End and handed the phone back to Sabine. “Call Maryse. Her phone might not pick up in the hospital, but it’s worth a try.”

Sabine took the phone and pressed in Maryse’s number. A couple of seconds later, she shut the phone, the disappointment on her face clear as day. “It went straight to voice mail.”

Beau turned the wheel hard to the right and the truck lurched onto the highway. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll be there in ten minutes.” He prayed they weren’t already too late.



Mildred was digging in her duffle bag for her mace when she felt the hair on her neck stand up straight. She looked up and sucked in a breath when she saw the man standing next to her bed holding a gun.

“Hello, Mildred,” the man said, “or should I call you sister?”

Mildred studied the man, but didn’t see anything familiar. “You’re no one to me and I’m fine keeping it that way.”

The man sighed. “I wish it could have stayed that way, but Sabine ruined it for everyone.”

Mildred’s mind raced, trying to make sense of what the man was saying. “What does Sabine have to do with any of this?”

“I was just waiting to stake my claim. I finally had the proof I needed after all these years to prove I was William’s rightful heir. I could have left you alone, and you would never have known. But then Sabine turned up—questioning them about the family and the past, convincing them she was related. It was only a matter of time before they met you, and Catherine saw the truth.”

Mildred’s head swam in confusion. “There was a DNA test. Sabine told me.”

The man shifted the gun in his hand, obviously agitated. “Adam was sterile. I read his medical records. There’s no way he fathered a child. Why the Fortescues lied about the results, I don’t know. But they’ll pay—they’ll all pay for what they did. I should have been firstborn. But that’s something I can fix.”

He leveled the gun at her head and pulled a syringe from his shirt pocket. “You’re going to take a nap, little sister. One you won’t wake up from, I’m afraid.” He stepped closer to the bed, needle poised for injection.

Mildred’s heart pounded so hard she thought it would burst. There was no way she could reach her gun. He’d won, even though she’d tried to prepare. She closed her eyes and began to pray.

A whistling noise echoed through the silence, and her entire body went stiff. She wondered for a moment when the pain would come, but suddenly a heavy weight fell across her. Opening her eyes, she saw the man who claimed to be her brother slumped across her, a single bullet hole through his temple. Raissa stood in the doorway, her gun still drawn, the silencer explaining the whistling.

“Who was he?” Mildred asked.

“Martin Alford,” Raissa said as she stepped over to the bed and checked the man’s neck for a pulse. “The Fortescues’ attorney.”

“Was he my brother?”

“Maybe.”

Mildred slumped back on the bed, her pulse still racing. “How did you know? How did you know to come here?”

“I guessed.”

Mildred stared at Raissa for a moment, then let out a single laugh. “That’s one heck of a guess, Raissa.”

Raissa removed her hand from Alford’s neck and sighed. “I was really hoping I was wrong.”

Mildred pulled her gun out from the covers and sat it on the tray next to the bed. “I’m glad you weren’t wrong. It’s over, and we’re all still alive, and that’s the most important thing.”

Raissa glanced at Mildred’s gun and raised her eyebrows. “You knew someone was after you?”

Mildred shook her head. “I guessed.”

Raissa smiled. “That’s one heck of a guess.”

“Make that two of us who hoped we were wrong.”