Showdown in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #3)(71)

Raissa dug into her pocket for her cell phone. She didn’t realize her hands were shaking until she pressed in Zach’s name. “I’m going to a warehouse building on Canal Street. One with blue stripes. I just got a tip that Hank Henry is being held there, but we have to move fast to get him.” Raissa jumped into her car and fired up the engine.

“What the hell?” Zach said. “Where did you get this tip?”

“Sonny Hebert,” Raissa said as she hopped into her car and pulled away from the curb, her tires screeching. “And since I’m still alive I can only assume he’s not interested in killing me. At least not right now.”

“How do you know the whole thing isn’t a setup to get you somewhere that he can kill you?”

“I don’t, which is why I need you to meet me there. I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”

“No f*cking way! I’m more than forty-five minutes away. Don’t go there, Raissa.”

“Too late, I’m already on my way. Your choice, Detective.” She disconnected the call and pressed the accelerator. Her cell phone buzzed at her from the passenger’s seat, but she let it ring, choosing to concentrate on driving well beyond the speed limit without killing herself. Zach would be there. He wouldn’t let her walk into something she might not walk out of.

She hoped.





Zach cursed when Raissa disconnected, and it was all he could do not to fling the phone against a wall. Not that he could afford to do that at the moment. Likely he was going to need it soon to call for backup, an ambulance, or the coroner. He was about an hour outside of Baton Rouge, which put him at almost the same distance from the warehouse as Raissa, but already behind her in travel time.

The county clerk who’d been helping him locate documents slid a couple of sheets of paper across the counter toward him. “These are the rec ords you were looking for, Detective Blanchard. Do you want to pay the fifty cents or would you like me to bill the New Orleans police department?”

Zach punched in Raissa’s number and waited until it went to voice mail. “Damn it!”

The clerk stared at him in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, “but I have an emergency.” He tossed a five-dollar bill on the counter for the copies, grabbed the papers, and ran out the door, yanking his keys from his pocket as he crossed the street. He tore out of the parking lot and was doing eighty miles per hour by the time he hit the interstate.

He dialed the station. “Captain, I need backup to a warehouse with blue stripes on Canal Street. I got a tip that Hank Henry is being held there.”

“Where on Canal Street?”

“I don’t know.”

“Damn it. That street’s miles long.”

“Tell them to start on the north side. I’ll start on the south.” He dropped the cell phone into the passenger’s seat, and only then did he remember the copies. He grabbed them from the passenger’s seat and looked at them. The first was a marriage license for Annabelle Forrester and Franklin Marsella. The second was a birth certificate for Susannah Forrester Marsella. Too much of a coincidence not to somehow be related to the missing Monk.

Zach felt his blood run cold. The mayor’s daughter-in-law was the Hebert connection, not the mayor. He reached for his cell phone, ready to call the captain back with this bit of information, but stopped. The captain had already made it clear he didn’t want more clues with no connecting dots, and right now, keeping Raissa safe was his priority. He’d tell the captain about his suspicions concerning the mayor’s daughter-in-law once he’d made sure Raissa was okay and they’d found Hank Henry. He pressed the accelerator down even farther and prayed that he got to the warehouse in time.

Thirty-five minutes later, he turned the corner on the south end of Canal Street, frantically scanning the street for any sign of Raissa. He felt a wave of relief when he saw Mildred’s car parked in front of a warehouse building just like the one she’d described, but Raissa was nowhere in sight. He jumped out of his car, pulled out his weapon, and hurried toward the warehouse entrance, scanning the street as he went. There were no other cars in sight and the entire area seemed completely abandoned.

The perfect place to commit a crime.

He slipped through the open door and looked down at the dusty floor. Prints led in different directions, but the majority broke off to the right. He crept down a long hallway, following the footprints, checking each room as he passed an open doorway. At the end of the warehouse, he looked into the last room and felt relief wash over him when he saw a very alive Raissa. Then a closer look revealed her hovering over a not-so-alive-looking Hank Henry, and his pulse began to race again.

Raissa looked up as he entered the room. “I’ve already called an ambulance. They should be here any minute.”

Zach looked down at the pale man laid out on what appeared to be a hospital gurney. “He’s alive?”

“Yeah, but I think he’s drugged or something, and he looks really weak. Give me your handcuff key.”

Zach looked confused for a moment until Raissa lifted Hank’s right hand. He was handcuffed to the bed. Zach passed his key ring to Raissa and began to walk the room. “Did you see anyone when you got here?”

“No one. The street was as empty as the warehouse. But he didn’t get here, chained to a hospital bed, by himself.”