Missing in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law #5)(10)

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” Sabine said.

Maryse took a breath and told Sabine about Raissa and Zach, rushing through the entire story, hoping she could get it all out without crying. Sabine listened silently, then when Maryse finished, she lifted the tea again and took a long sip, her hands shaking as she returned the cup to the table.

“What can I do?” Sabine asked.

Maryse shook her head, certain she looked as miserable as she felt. “That’s just it—there’s nothing we can do. I mean, pray, but nothing physical. The FBI has search dogs where Zach was found. If there’s any trace of Raissa, those dogs will find it.”

“So we sit and wait.”

“And it’s killing me.”

“What is Colt doing?”

Maryse shrugged. “He told Luc he’d try to work his way in, but I seriously doubt the FBI is going to let him stroll into the middle of their investigation. Although…”

“What?”

“After the doctor talked to us at the hospital, I saw him talking to Jadyn over in the corner.”

“He might have just been bringing her up to speed on all the people and the relationships. With her being new here, he might have assumed she didn’t know all the nuances.”

Maryse sighed. “True. I guess I’m grasping at straws, thinking there’s something one of us can do. I hate sitting.”

Sabine reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “So do I, but that’s the only job we have right now. As soon as anything changes, we’ll be ready for whatever comes our way. I know I’m not the ‘real deal’ as far as psychics go, and I’m beyond worried, but I’m not getting an overwhelming feeling of doom about this.”

“Thanks,” Maryse said, attempting to give her best friend an encouraging smile. She didn’t believe for a moment that Sabine’s feeling meant a thing. More likely, Sabine didn’t want to think about anything bad happening to Raissa and her feelings were following suit. But if it gave her comfort, then she was welcome to her thoughts. As for herself, Maryse preferred to deal with the real.

Life held less disappointment that way.

“I probably shouldn’t even ask,” Sabine said, “but how are things going with Helena?”

“You probably shouldn’t ask, especially after this morning.”

“Uh-oh. Save the story for a better time, then.” Sabine frowned. “I wondered specifically if she’s said anything more about why she’s back.”

“No. I’ve asked some questions, but she’s sticking hard and fast to that story about pissing God off. Short of a better explanation, I’m inclined to believe it’s the truth. I’m sure she’s capable.”

“Yes, well, I’m not going to disagree with you on that point, but I still think God would have a better skill set than the rest of us for dealing with people like Helena.”

“You think she’s lying?”

“No, not necessarily. But I don’t think she’s telling us everything.”

Maryse frowned. “You think she’s back for a specific reason?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about it ever since she returned, and ultimately, yes, I think she’s here for a specific reason. I also think she knows what that reason is.”

“Why wouldn’t she tell us? She’s never short on words.”

Sabine tapped her cup. “Maybe she doesn’t want to scare us. Or maybe it’s something she needs to do for her own growth and doesn’t want to admit it.” She shook her head. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m certain she’s holding something back.”

Maryse took a big drink of water, what little bit of worry she had left now taken up by Sabine’s words. If Helena was keeping a secret, it could only be a bad one.

Really, really bad.

[page]###

Colt dragged himself into the sheriff’s department late that evening, more frustrated and tired than he remembered being in years. He’d spent seven hours with the FBI, searching the swamp on both sides of the highway, and they hadn’t turned up so much as a footprint. The dogs never gave an indication that Raissa had entered the swamp, and his own observations of the turf and foliage had led to the same conclusion.

He grabbed a bottled water from the small refrigerator next to the filing cabinet and took a long drink as he stared out the side window at the bayou behind the building. As the cold liquid burned his throat and settled like lead in his stomach, he slammed the bottle down on a nearby table.

“I guess you didn’t find anything,” Shirley, the daytime dispatcher, said.

“Not one damned thing,” he said as he turned to look at her.

Normally, Colt tried not to curse around Shirley, a hard-core Southern Baptist, but this time, she didn’t so much as lift an eyebrow, much less suggest he use better language as she usually did.

“What did the FBI have to say?”

He shook his head. “Nothing that we didn’t already know.”

“Do you think that’s all to it?”

“Maybe…yeah…I don’t know. I mean, I’ve usually got a good feel for when people are holding back on me, especially other cops, and I think the agent in charge has told me everything he knows.”