Missing in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law #5)(69)

“I’ll say,” Deputy Nelson said. “Somebody should tell Marty to get that lift checked before it kills someone that matters.”

“I’ll be sure and do it,” Colt said.

Deputy Nelson gave them a nod and headed after the paramedics, carefully avoiding another look at Ross. He’d turned slightly green at the first one.

Colt turned to her. “Why didn’t you tell them you made that shot?”

“I don’t want the attention it would bring, especially from the FBI. If we don’t give them any reason to ask more questions, they’re probably going to retreat to their corporate headquarters and try to figure out how to spin the Ross problem.”

“True. I have to tell Marty something about his lift. The sheriff’s department will pay, of course, but he’ll want to know what happened.”

“Then tell him there was so much cross fire, we’re not sure,” Jadyn said. “I know sometimes it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m trying to have a relatively quiet existence in Mudbug.”

Colt smiled. “And this is the sort of thing small-town legends are made of.”

“Something like that.”

He leaned over and whispered, “Well, it was damned impressive.”

Jadyn smiled. “Yeah, it kinda was.”





[page]Chapter Seventeen


At 10:00 a.m., Colt knocked on Bart’s front door, Jadyn standing beside him. It had been a long night of questioning with the FBI and the state police, but finally, everyone had seemed satisfied that they had the facts and a little more than depressed with the complicity of two FBI agents.

After all the activity, Colt thought he’d have no trouble falling asleep, but instead he’d lain in bed awake for at least another hour. His mind whirled with everything that had happened—Raissa’s kidnapping, the diamonds, the showdown in the garage, and the incredible shot that Jadyn made. The shot that quite literally saved his life.

Everything from start to finish had gone down so quickly that he hadn’t had time to process it all, much less dwell on the meanings and implications of everything that had happened. But in the quiet of his bedroom, it all came crashing back in a jumble, begging him to put it all into perspective.

The crime had been easy. He had plenty of experience processing criminal activity, even crimes that included dirty cops. Everything that had happened with Jadyn, however, was a whole different story, and one he hadn’t managed to classify before finally falling asleep near dawn.

“His truck’s here,” Jadyn said, after a minute of waiting with no answer.

Colt knocked again.

A couple seconds later, the sound of a power tool echoed from the shop.

“He must be working,” Colt said as he left the porch and headed for the shop. With every step, he imagined how this would go down. He hoped Bart wouldn’t cause any trouble, but if life had taught him one thing, it was that you never really knew someone.

Out of courtesy, he banged on the metal door. He hadn’t bothered with a warrant, but with Jadyn along, he didn’t need one. Her jurisdiction extended to Bart’s shop given that they had probable cause to believe this is where the crime originated. He waited several seconds, then banged again, figuring Bart might not be able to hear him over the tool noise.

A couple seconds later, the tool shut off and then Bart swung the door open. He looked tired and worried and when he focused in on them, both grew worse.

“Can we come in?” Colt asked.

He stepped back and they walked inside. In the center of the shop was a platform with some wheels on it. A large object just to the right was covered with a tarp. Colt frowned. He had hoped for cooperation, but he hadn’t expected Bart to invite them in to see him in the process of committing a crime.

Bart grabbed a rag and wiped his hands. “I hope you two aren’t here to grill me about my camp. I got detained yesterday by the New Orleans police because of that * from the FBI. I was ready to kill him.” He gave them a sheepish look. “I probably shouldn’t say that to the two of you.”

“Nobody likes Agent Ross,” Colt said.

Everything that had gone down the night before was all still very hush-hush. The FBI was in a panic, trying to figure out how they’d allowed a dirty agent to reach Ross’s position in the agency without anyone catching on, and their attorneys and public relations people were racing in damage control mode. The secret wouldn’t keep forever, but Colt had no problem keeping his mouth shut. The last thing he wanted to do was relive last night over and over again for every resident in Mudbug. The ole “I’m not allowed to talk about a federal investigation” excuse was the perfect out.

“We’re not here about the camp,” Colt said. “We’re here about the cars.”

Bart’s expression immediately shifted to fear. “What cars?”

“The cars you’ve been stealing and chopping. We’ve already seen the car parts, and we found what’s left of stolen cars dumped in one of the channels just west of here.”

Bart looked back and forth between them, his hesitation clear. Finally he sighed. “It wasn’t me.”

Colt frowned. “Don’t make it harder on any of us by lying.”

“I’m not lying.” He walked to a desk sitting on the front wall and pulled a plastic container out of the bottom drawer. “I have receipts for every part in this shop.”