Trouble in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #1)(83)
Maryse rose from the bed. “I believe you’re sorry, Helena, but what you did was wrong.”
“Can you ever forgive me?”
“I forgive you, but I’m not happy with you. I hope you can understand that.”
Helena nodded and rose from the bed. “I’m not happy with me, either.” She gave Maryse a sad smile and walked through the bedroom wall into the hallway.
Maryse lay on the bed and hugged one of the bed pillows. She had enough to think about for the next ten years.
It was well after two A.M. when Maryse heard Helena’s voice right beside her bed. Jasper took off like a shot, and Maryse opened one eye and looked at the agitated ghost, then the alarm clock. “It’s the middle of the night, Helena. Go away.”
“Ssssshhhhh.” Helena put a finger to her lips. “There’s someone outside your window. You’ve got to get out of here.” Maryse bolted upright and stared at the window, trying to make out anything in the inky darkness. A second later, she heard the faint sound of scraping outside, which couldn’t possibly be good since her room was on the second floor. She rolled out of bed and onto the floor, then crawled over to the door and eased it open. The squeak of the hinges seemed to blast through the night air, and as Maryse slipped into the hall, she heard glass breaking behind her.
“Run!” Helena shouted, and Maryse stumbled to her feet, dashed down the hall, and then took the stairs two at a time. When she hit the landing on the first floor, she panicked for a moment, not having a single idea which way to go. The only options were out of the hotel or toward Mildred’s room, essentially putting the other woman in danger. The pounding of footsteps on the stairs prompted her into action, and she pushed open the back door to the hotel and ran outside.
The shriek of the hotel alarm made her heart stop beating for a moment as she realized she’d just alerted the killer to her exact location. But as she ran down the alley, she realized that it might work to her advantage if the cops responded to the alarm before the killer found her. She felt the sting of glass under her bare feet but didn’t care as she dashed around the corner of the hotel, praying that the gate was open. She came to a stop in front of the ten-foot iron gate, securely fastened by a padlock and chain. Shit! Frantic, she scanned the fence for a way over and, finding none, switched to looking for a place to hide but also came up with nothing.
Police sirens screamed in the distance, and she felt her hopes rise. She only had to hold out for another minute or so. Just sixty more seconds and help should arrive. Surely the killer would bail when the police arrived. But as she heard the hotel door slam, she knew she didn’t have even twenty seconds before she would be looking at the killer face to face. She backed up a couple of steps, then ran toward the fence and leaped as high as possible, clutching desperately at the top rail.
Adjusting her grip, she pulled herself up the fence, her arms straining with the effort, and for a moment, she didn’t think she was going to make it. Then a bullet whizzed by her head and struck the building to the side of her and a burst of adrenaline hit her, propelling her over the fence and onto the other side. She landed, slamming into the concrete with such force she was afraid she’d broken something in the process. As she jumped to her feet, a second bullet grazed her shoulder and hit the Dumpster in front of her. Realizing there was no possible way to exit the alley without leaving herself wide open, Maryse dove behind the Dumpster and curled into a ball, hoping like hell the police arrived before the killer got through the gate.
She heard the blast of a bullet hitting metal, then the rattling of a chain and felt her heart drop. She shut her eyes and prayed harder than she’d ever prayed before. Nothing but a miracle was going to save her now. Seconds later she heard his breathing clear as day and knew he was standing right in front of her. She clenched her eyes harder, her life racing before her in Technicolor, and wondered what she had done so wrong in life for it to end this way.
Chapter Eighteen
“I never wanted things to go this way, Maryse,” the killer said.
Maryse’s eyes popped open, and she raised her head in disbelief. “Johnny?” she said as she stared at her father’s best friend. “But why?”
Johnny shook his head.
“If I’m going to die, shouldn’t I at least know why?”
“Because you had to go poking your nose in where it didn’t belong. Why couldn’t you leave things alone?”
Maryse’s mind raced with questions but not a single answer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What did I do?”
Johnny sneered. “Don’t play stupid with me. I know all about those tubes you send to New Orleans for testing. You knew the chemical company was dumping waste in the bayou, and you figured that’s what killed your dad, so you were going to get even. All that crap about trying to find a cure for cancer. You weren’t looking for a cure—you were looking for the cause.”
Maryse’s head began to spin. “You’re telling me you knew the chemical company was dumping toxic waste in the bayou? You knew that’s what killed my dad and you never said a word?” She stared at the man in front of her. “I thought you were his friend.”
“I was his friend, and I watched him waste away from that disease, and all I could think was that’s not going to happen to me. No way.”
A wave of nausea washed over Maryse. The thinning hair, the weight loss. She’d thought it was diet or age, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. “You have cancer.”