Missing in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law #5)(39)

“What happened to Maryse?” Mildred asked, the panic clear in her voice.

“That’s a good question, and one that I and Dastardly the Panicky Ghost can’t answer.”

“They left here hours ago, and Helena said this happened right after they got there?”

“That’s what she says.”

“She would have made it back here by now. Even crawling she could have made it back by now. Do you think Ross has her?”

“I don’t know,” Jadyn replied, but it sounded more and more likely.

“What do I do if Luc comes looking for her? Should I try to find her myself? I’ve called her cell several times already and it goes straight to voice mail.”

Jadyn heard a boat approaching and looked up to see Colt pulling up to the dock. “Colt’s back so I have to get off the phone. I’m sending Helena to the hotel. Take her with you and see if you can find Maryse and her truck.”

“What if I run into Ross?”

“Tell him the truth—that you know Maryse was working in this area of the swamp this morning but she should have been back by lunch, and you’re looking for her because you’re worried. I’ve got to run.”

She disconnected and shoved the cell phone back in her jeans pocket. “Get to the hotel,” she said to Helena, then turned around and headed down the dock, her creative mind conjuring up all the things that might have happened to Maryse if Ross got his hands on her.

And all the things that might happen to Ross if Luc LeJeune decided his wife had been poorly treated.

The last thought made her smile.

[page]###

Maryse had been held captive in a hospital room for going on six hours and every hour seemed longer than the one before. Six straight hours of CNN. No one should endure such torture. Her captor, whom she’d named the Stepford Agent, for his lack of a single original thought, sat in a chair next to the door as if expecting her to make a break for it.

Truth be known, she would have, but every time he’d used the restroom, he’d handcuffed her to the bed, removing the option. When they’d first entered the room, he’d placed her cell phone on a stand in the corner, inches out of reach when she was shackled. She’d tried to snag it with a bedpan the first time he’d taken a potty break, figuring the risk of breaking the screen was worth it as long as she could still make a phone call. If she had to spend another hour closed up in here with Stepford, she might need that psych eval.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t heard Stepford coming out of the restroom and he’d caught her bedpan-handed. He’d removed her phone from the table and slipped it into his front jeans pocket where she wasn’t about to risk going, not even with a bedpan.

“You know it’s been hours since I’ve eaten,” she said.

“My orders don’t include serving you meals.”

“Your orders didn’t include peeing either, but I notice you do that when you’re so inclined. My digestive system didn’t cut off when you kidnapped me. And if something happens to me while you’re holding me hostage, you’re going to be responsible. Not to mention you’re going to look like the biggest dumbass in the world if I have a medical emergency while you’re restraining me in a hospital.”

Stepford rose from his chair and snapped the cuffs back on her and the bed, glaring the entire time. “I’ll get you something from the hospital cafeteria.”

“Oh, goody. Gourmet.”

“Food is food. Eat it or don’t. All I have to do is provide it.”

“Whatever. If they have tuna salad, that would be great.”

He stalked out of the room and Maryse flopped back on the bed a minute, enjoying a moment without someone staring at her. Being detained was hell on introverts. She eyeballed the television remote that Stepford had left on his chair. The bedpan was still within reach so she went to work trying to snag the remote.

It took a couple of tries, but she finally managed to drag the remote off of the fabric-covered chair and onto the floor. From that point, it was easy to drag it across the tile. When the remote was close to her feet, she tackled it like a starving man on a cheeseburger.

Fox News, NBC News, CBS News.

Good God! Was there anything left on television besides the horrible things people did to one another? Life was already full of reality. What she wanted was a distraction. Finally, she flipped to a repeat episode of Hell’s Kitchen. That would work. She liked food and she liked people who yelled, so it was a win-win.

She shoved the remote under her pillow and leaned back to watch.

She was just getting interested in the episode when Stepford returned with her lunch/dinner and placed it on the bed next to her. He closed the door, then released her from the handcuffs before perching in his chair again. Then he noticed the television and frowned.

“Where is the remote?” he asked.

“Somewhere you don’t want to get caught looking or my husband will shoot you.” If she never saw another newscast again, it would be too soon.

“I’m not watching this crap.”

“Then look out the window or stare at the floor. But unless you shoot me, you’re not getting the remote. You don’t have the good taste to use it properly.” She lifted the bread of her sandwich. “Is this tuna salad?”

His jaw flexed as he gave her a nod. She tore open a bag of potato chips and dug in, savoring the salt and washing it down with a soda. Stepford sat in stony silence, still glaring at her. Just when she was starting to not hate life altogether, the door opened and Ross walked in.