The Helena Diaries - Trouble in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law Series Novellas) by Jana DeLeon Page B
Authors: Jana DeLeon
Ads: Link
slowed to a sprawl.
For a minute, I seriously considered the possibility that I’d died all over again. It felt like it anyway. But then my super-soldier persona kicked in and I jumped up and ran for the car. Okay, it was more of a stumbling jog, but it was faster than a walk.
I did a double-take when I saw that the car was empty, but when I jumped into the backseat, I realized that Maryse and Sabine were ducked down in the front seat. Smart thinking as a second later, Harold barreled out of the motel—this time all body parts covered—and rushed to the late-model sedan that I’d handed down to him when I bought the Caddy.
Harold took off way faster than he should have in that rust bucket, and Maryse pointed out that they should have had me ride with him. It seemed obvious now, but I have to admit, it hadn’t crossed my mind when I’d jumped through the motel wall. The only thing on my agenda had been getting far, far away. Even the distance of another car couldn’t erase the horrors I’d seen.
He drove deeper and deeper into the swamp, and just when I wondered where the hell he was going, he pulled off the road and disappeared into the brush. And that’s when it clicked that my family’s old hunting cabin was around here somewhere. Of course, my brilliant mental recall was met with a chorus of “why didn’t you tell us this before” rather than compliments about my acumen.
It figured.
Then to add insult to injury, Maryse sent me into the swamp to spy on Harold at the cabin. I stomped through the brush—after all, no one could hear me—until I found the cabin. Shack was a more accurate term.
I could hear Harold’s obnoxious, high-pitched bitching before I even walked through the wall. I have to admit that my heart tugged a bit when I saw Hank standing there. I know I’m his mother, but I’m going to say it anyway—he’s such a handsome boy.
And I don’t think that’s mother hormones talking. All the girls used to run after him…except, now that I think about it, Maryse. Maybe that was the attraction.
That idiot Harold raged at him for being so useless I didn’t leave the land to him in the first place. Hank stood his ground, though, arguing that he didn’t know anything about the will until the day he heard it and couldn’t be expected to read my mind. Then Harold said none of it mattered because he’d scared Maryse into giving up the land—recalling the bogus phone call from Wheeler.
I should have expected it, but I was still shocked. It was one thing to believe someone was evil enough to kill for money, but it was a whole other thing when it was the man you’d shared a house with since you were nothing more than a grown child. Deep down, I’d known Harold was probably involved, but a tiny part of me hadn’t wanted to believe that I’d housed and nurtured a monster all these years.
Even worse—what if the way I’d forced him to live had created one?
I’d heard enough, so I hightailed it back to the car, but things still didn’t make sense. I’d come to terms with the fact that Harold was an evil man and could have hatched a murderous plot, but what I couldn’t reconcile is the how. I simply didn’t think he had the skill set to get it done.
Which meant he had help.
But who?
Wherein Helena is both worried and relieved
I’m not sure whether to be impressed or concerned. Maryse made us stop at a pawnshop on the way back to the motel, and she came out toting a stun gun. I have to admit, it was kinda cool. Sabine dropped her off in front of Mildred’s hotel, and I hopped out and took off for Johnny’s, hoping someone would be talking about Harold and his questionable military record. Something about the entire mess didn’t add up.
I hit pay dirt with a couple of fishermen sitting at the bar, shooting the breeze at the bar and ogling the latest two-bit floozy bartender that Johnny had hired. They were speculating on the likelihood that Harold had been
For a minute, I seriously considered the possibility that I’d died all over again. It felt like it anyway. But then my super-soldier persona kicked in and I jumped up and ran for the car. Okay, it was more of a stumbling jog, but it was faster than a walk.
I did a double-take when I saw that the car was empty, but when I jumped into the backseat, I realized that Maryse and Sabine were ducked down in the front seat. Smart thinking as a second later, Harold barreled out of the motel—this time all body parts covered—and rushed to the late-model sedan that I’d handed down to him when I bought the Caddy.
Harold took off way faster than he should have in that rust bucket, and Maryse pointed out that they should have had me ride with him. It seemed obvious now, but I have to admit, it hadn’t crossed my mind when I’d jumped through the motel wall. The only thing on my agenda had been getting far, far away. Even the distance of another car couldn’t erase the horrors I’d seen.
He drove deeper and deeper into the swamp, and just when I wondered where the hell he was going, he pulled off the road and disappeared into the brush. And that’s when it clicked that my family’s old hunting cabin was around here somewhere. Of course, my brilliant mental recall was met with a chorus of “why didn’t you tell us this before” rather than compliments about my acumen.
It figured.
Then to add insult to injury, Maryse sent me into the swamp to spy on Harold at the cabin. I stomped through the brush—after all, no one could hear me—until I found the cabin. Shack was a more accurate term.
I could hear Harold’s obnoxious, high-pitched bitching before I even walked through the wall. I have to admit that my heart tugged a bit when I saw Hank standing there. I know I’m his mother, but I’m going to say it anyway—he’s such a handsome boy.
And I don’t think that’s mother hormones talking. All the girls used to run after him…except, now that I think about it, Maryse. Maybe that was the attraction.
That idiot Harold raged at him for being so useless I didn’t leave the land to him in the first place. Hank stood his ground, though, arguing that he didn’t know anything about the will until the day he heard it and couldn’t be expected to read my mind. Then Harold said none of it mattered because he’d scared Maryse into giving up the land—recalling the bogus phone call from Wheeler.
I should have expected it, but I was still shocked. It was one thing to believe someone was evil enough to kill for money, but it was a whole other thing when it was the man you’d shared a house with since you were nothing more than a grown child. Deep down, I’d known Harold was probably involved, but a tiny part of me hadn’t wanted to believe that I’d housed and nurtured a monster all these years.
Even worse—what if the way I’d forced him to live had created one?
I’d heard enough, so I hightailed it back to the car, but things still didn’t make sense. I’d come to terms with the fact that Harold was an evil man and could have hatched a murderous plot, but what I couldn’t reconcile is the how. I simply didn’t think he had the skill set to get it done.
Which meant he had help.
But who?
Wherein Helena is both worried and relieved
I’m not sure whether to be impressed or concerned. Maryse made us stop at a pawnshop on the way back to the motel, and she came out toting a stun gun. I have to admit, it was kinda cool. Sabine dropped her off in front of Mildred’s hotel, and I hopped out and took off for Johnny’s, hoping someone would be talking about Harold and his questionable military record. Something about the entire mess didn’t add up.
I hit pay dirt with a couple of fishermen sitting at the bar, shooting the breeze at the bar and ogling the latest two-bit floozy bartender that Johnny had hired. They were speculating on the likelihood that Harold had been
Similar Books
