Missing in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law #5)(43)

“Well, the thing has to run both ways or it doesn’t equal a relationship. I barely know the man.”

Colt smiled. “A picky woman. I would never have guessed.”

He looked way too smug about Jadyn’s denial of interest, which irritated her. “What does Bart do, anyway?” she asked, knowing her interest in the other man would take some of the wind out of his sails.

The smile disappeared. “Construction. He’s a master welder and they’re in high demand with all the rebuilding after Katrina.”

“A master welder…so I guess that means he’s good at it?”

Colt nodded, although he didn’t look overly pleased about it. “The best I’ve ever seen except for his father.”

One of the boards on the pier sagged beneath her and she shook her head. “I guess the skill set doesn’t transfer to wood.”

“No, that’s the rule of professions—what you do at your job, you avoid at home, so I imagine most structures around Bart are falling apart.”

“That’s so true. My uncle is a plumber and refused to fix the leak in his bathroom. One night while my aunt was taking a bath, the tub fell straight through the floor and into the crawl space.”

Colt laughed. “Talk about being literally being in hot water.”

“Oh, she still uses it to get her way, and that was well over ten years ago.”

“I suppose there’s no statute of limitations on having to crawl back into the house from your own bath.”

Jadyn grinned. “I suppose not.”

As they walked up the equally saggy steps to the front porch, Jadyn hoped the weak wood held long enough for them to get in and out. The door was unlocked, as most of the others had been, but with no electricity at the remote camps, except for the stream from their flashlights, they were staring into darkness.

Jadyn shone her light across the room, trying to get a feel for the layout. A kitchenette, of sorts, stretched across the back wall with a tiny table and two chairs in front of it. The wall to the right held an ancient television with an even older couch in front of it. The wall to the left contained a double bed. The entire space couldn’t have been more than twenty feet square.

“This one won’t take long,” she said and followed Colt inside.

Colt pointed to a door in the middle of the wall on the left. “I’ll check out the bathroom. Start canvassing on the right.”

“Yep,” she said and moved to the right, shining her light on the floor.

She couldn’t see any signs of recent passage, but then the tattered rug that covered the living area was light tan and already covered with dirt. It would be impossible to determine if the footprints had been made recently or a month ago. She continued forward, shining her light across the wall with the television, and then moved to the couch.

It was covered in dark gray corduroy, a style that hadn’t been popular in Bart’s lifetime, so she assumed it came with the inherited camp. As her light panned over the far armrest, she took a step forward, ready to move into the kitchen area, but then she stopped.

Out of the corner of her eye, she’d seen something that didn’t fit. She backed up and leaned over the couch, slowly shining her light over every square inch, trying to locate what had caught her attention. On the inside edge of the armrest she saw it—a darker spot in the fabric. She touched it with her finger, but whatever it was, it was dry.

“You got something?” Colt asked as he exited the bathroom.

“I’m not sure. This could be blood, but it’s dried.”

“It doesn’t take blood long to dry, especially in this heat.”

He stepped beside her and rubbed his finger on the dark spot. “It’s flaking off a bit. If it has been here for a while, it probably would have flaked off before now, especially with Bart and who knows who else occupying the couch.”

“Can we get a good sample from the flakes?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m not going to take any chances.” He pulled out a pocketknife and cut a section of the fabric off the armrest, then folded it with the stain on the inside and slipped the entire thing into his front pocket.

“Won’t Bart be mad about his couch?”

Colt reached for a roll of duct tape that was on top of the television and taped the hole in the couch. “There. All fixed.”

Jadyn shook her head. “That’s not exactly quality patchwork.”

“Nonsense,” he said and shone his flashlight on the opposite armrest. “Now they match.”

Jadyn glanced at the other duct-taped armrest and smiled. “It’s sorta nice living in a town where the keeping-up-appearances standards are so low.”

“Welcome to Mudbug.”

Jadyn laughed and moved to the kitchenette while Colt checked the sleeping area.

“Nothing,” she said.

“Here either. Let’s roll.”

They exited the camp and headed back to the pier. What little sunlight had remained when they entered the camp was completely gone now, and the pitch-black swamp had come alive with the sounds of the night creatures. Something croaked as they stepped onto the pier and Jadyn drew up short, shining her light across the water.

“Was that a frog or a gator?” she asked.

“Bullfrog. Gators have a much louder rumble. One that you can almost feel, if that makes any sense.”