The Girl Named Mud: A Gripping Suspense Novel

by Ditter Kellen

  Her life had been forever changed…

  * * * *

  Grace wasn’t sure how she ended up at the safehouse. She barely recalled walking back to her car that she’d left parked at the church. Her cheek throbbed, and her eye hurt something fierce. But nothing compared to the pain she carried in her heart.

  She sat behind the wheel of her sedan, staring at the door to that block building, when she noticed Red Bear emerge.

  He stood on the steps for long moments, peering at her through the windshield of her car. And then, he bounded down the steps.

  “What happened?” he practically growled after jerking open her car door.

  Grace couldn’t look at him. “I-I don’t know why I came here. It was the only thing I knew to do.”

  She flinched when Red Bear’s hand touched her arm.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered, gently wrapping his fingers around her upper arm. “Come on. Mud doesn’t need to see you like this.”

  Grace blinked back her tears. Red Bear was right. Mud didn’t need to see her like that.

  Picking up her purse, Grace allowed Red Bear to help her from the car. He held on to her arm and guided her to his truck.

  “Watch your head,” he murmured, opening the passenger side door and helping her inside.

  He then rounded the front and climbed behind the wheel.

  Neither of them spoke as he cranked the truck and pulled away from the building.

  Grace stared straight ahead, unable to meet Red Bear’s gaze.

  He drove for approximately five minutes north before turning onto a long dirt drive.

  A large, log cabin came into view a moment later. It rested beneath a copse of giant oak trees with moss hanging from the limbs, swaying in the breeze.

  Grace had never seen anything so serene in all her life. And at any other time, she would have marveled at its beauty. Not today.

  Red Bear slowed the truck to a stop and jumped out, only to appear at Grace’s side.

  He opened the door and helped her emerge.

  “Whose place is this?” Grace whispered, still unable to meet his gaze.

  “It’s mine.” He nodded toward a set of round pavers in front of them. “Watch your step.”

  Grace allowed him to lead her to the massive screened porch and inside the cabin.

  “It’s beautiful,” she commented in a wooden voice.

  Red Bear didn’t respond. He simply guided her to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair for her. “Sit.”

  Grace took a seat, watching as Red Bear went about making a pot of coffee. He kept his back to her the entire time, but not enough that she couldn’t see the muscle ticking along his jaw.

  “Cream or sugar?” he asked without turning around.

  “Just cream, thank you.”

  A minute later, he set a steaming cup of coffee near her hand and took a seat across from her. “Who did that to you?”

  Grace had been expecting him to ask about her face. But faced with the question, she found it difficult to answer.

  “Grace…”

  He’d used her first name. Since meeting him, he’d always referred to her as Mrs. Holloway. “My husband.”

  A stunned look appeared on his face. “Reverend Holloway hit you?”

  The tears Grace had been fighting since arriving spilled over against her will. She began to shake, the pain inside welling up to the point where she moaned from it. “He-he raped me.”

  Red Bear’s expression changed to something unreadable. “He what?”

  Grace couldn’t repeat the words. In fact, words failed her altogether.

  Surging to his feet, Red Bear rounded the table and knelt at her side. “Did you go to the hospital?”

  Grace could only shake her head.

  A long moment of silence ensued, and then Red Bear straightened. “Where is he now?”

  Grace lifted her watery gaze. “I don’t know.”

  Red Bear suddenly reached beneath his shirt, pulled his gun free, and checked the magazine. “I want you to stay here until I return.”

  Grace was on her feet in an instant. “Where are you going?”

  “To find Jasper.”

  Grabbing him by the arm, Grace pleaded. “Please don’t.”

  Red Bear stared down at her incredulously. “I’m bringing him in, Grace. He hurt you, and he needs to be made to pay.”

  Grace shook her head. “Please. I’m begging you.”

  Red Bear stilled. “Why would you allow him to get away with what he’s done? He raped you.”

  Grace flinched. “If you arrest him, the entire village will know. The church will know. I’ll never be able to show my face in town again.”

  “You think they’ll blame you?” The anger in Red Bear’s eyes was tangible.

  Grace let go of his arm. “You don’t understand. They love Jasper. He’s pastored them for fifteen years. They would never believe him capable of such a thing. I have to live there, Red Bear. I would never be able to show my face in that community again.”

  He dragged a hand down his face. “So, you’re just going to let him get by with what he’s done?”

  “I’m his wife, Red Bear. It’s not considered rape in the eyes of the law. And Jasper has no record. Nothing will come of it but slander. And that slander won’t be on him; it’ll be on me.”

  Red Bear continued to stare down at her, his expression hard and relenting. “Where did it happen?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The attack. Where did it take place?”

  “In our home.”

  His eyes narrowed. “That parsonage is on tribal lands. And our laws differ from yours. Rape is rape, married or not.”

  Grace considered Red Bear’s words. If Red Bear arrested Jasper, he would be jailed on tribal lands. The village wouldn’t be involved. And if she knew Jasper, he would try to keep it that way. “How long can you keep him in jail?”

  “Until a hearing is set, or until he makes bail.”

  Grace knew he wouldn’t make bail. They had no money in their account. Not to mention, Jasper would never ask one of the members of his congregation to post his bail. He would want to keep things as quiet as possible. “Okay, then.”

  Red Bear’s gaze softened. “Come on. I’ll take you to the station to file charges and then drop you back at your car. You won’t have to see him, Grace. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Relieved and more than a little afraid, Grace followed Red Bear out to his truck.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Mud stared out the window of the safehouse, watching for Grace to appear. Her car had been parked out front for the past two hours, but Grace was nowhere in sight.

  Jaya suddenly appeared at Mud’s side. “I’m sure she probably just went for a walk. She’ll be back soon.”

  Mud pretended indifference. She didn’t want Jaya to think her weak or excited about seeing Grace. “It don’t matter to me none.”

  “It doesn’t matter to me any,” Jaya corrected. “Now, you try.”

  Mud heaved an agitated sigh. “It doesn’t matter to me any.”

  “Much better. Now, what would you like for lunch?”

  With a shrug, Mud trailed back to her desk. “It don’t matter. I mean, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Very good,” Jaya praised.

  Mud actually liked Jaya, which puzzled her. If Jaya, Grace, and Red Bear were really good people, then everything Flora had taught Mud was wrong.

  A strange feeling overcame Mud in that moment. Had her mama truly lied to her about everyone and everything?

  “Something troubles you?” Jaya softly questioned, appearing in Mud’s peripheral.

  Mud shrugged. “I was just thinking about Mama.”

  Jaya pulled up a chair next to Mud’s desk. “Would you like to talk about it?”

  Part of Mud wanted to do just that, but another part, the part that would always be faithful to Flora, didn’t.

  “Mud?” Jaya gently prompted.
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  “Mama said that the people in the village was evil.”

  A small indention appeared between Jaya’s brown eyes. “Why did she think the villagers were evil?”

  “’Cause they followed the Devil.”

  “I see.” Jaya shifted in her seat. “Listen, Mud. Sometimes we don’t understand why people do and say the things they do. They usually have a reason. Maybe someone in the village hurt your mother. Maybe she reached out for help and didn’t get any. That would make a person bitter. I know it would me.”

  Mud understood some of what Jaya said. “What does bitter mean?”

  “Well, according to the dictionary, it means angry, hurt, or resentful because of one's bad experiences or a sense of unjust treatment.”

  Mud let that sink in. “Mama was scared. I seen it a lot when she didn’t know I was looking. She was always saying they was coming to get me. That the Devil wanted me.”

  Sadness appeared in Jaya’s eyes. “Did she say who they were?”

  Mud shook her head. “She only said the Devil wanted me.”

  “Hmmmm, well the Devil can’t get you here, Mud. You’re on tribal lands. So you can relax, okay? Nothing and no one can reach you here.”

  The door abruptly opened, and Grace stepped inside.

  The first thing that Mud noticed was the bruise on her face, and then she saw Grace’s red-rimmed eyes. She had been crying.

  Mud jumped from her desk, her stomach suddenly tied in knots. She shifted from foot to foot, not knowing what else to do. “Grace?”

  “I’m fine,” Grace assured her in a soft voice. “I fell is all. It doesn’t even hurt.”

  Mud wasn’t sure she believed her. But Grace wouldn’t lie to her. Would she? Mud wrung her hands.

  “Really, I’m okay, Mud. I was just cleaning one of the ceiling fans, and the chair I was standing on toppled over. I’ve always been clumsy like that.”

  Relaxing somewhat, Mud took a step forward. “How long do I got to stay here?”

  “How long am I supposed to stay here,” Jaya corrected with a soft laugh.

  Mud paid Jaya little mind. Her focus remained solely on Grace.

  “I’m not sure,” Grace answered, stepping deeper into the room. “Where would you like to stay if not here?”

  In a way, Mud wanted to stay wherever Grace stayed, but a part of her wanted to go home, where she felt close to her mama. “At my home, where Mama is.”

  Grace lowered to her knees in front of Mud. “Mud, your mother is no longer in the swamps. She’s at the morgue.”

  Not understanding the word, Mud asked, “What’s a morgue?”

  “Well, it’s a place where they keep bodies to prepare them for burial.”

  Mud’s heart began to pound. Someone had dug up her mama. “But Mama was already buried. I buried her.”

  “I know you did, Mud. But she had to be moved to the morgue, so the doctor could determine what happened to her.”

  Mud took a step back. “But I told you what happened. The Devil killed her.”

  “Listen to me, Mud. Nothing bad is going to happen to your mother. Once the doctor finished looking her over, we will pick out a nice spot to bury her. A spot in the sunshine, where you can go visit her and set flowers on her grave. I think she would like that, don’t you?”

  Flora had loved flowers, Mud thought, her mind attempting to understand all of Grace’s words. “Why can’t we put flowers where I buried her? Why does she got to be buried in another spot?”

  Grace stared back at her for long moments, and then, “Okay, Mud. I will speak with Red Bear about putting your mother back where she belongs once the medical examiner is finished… Doing what he has to do. Will that make you feel better?”

  Mud’s chest ached, and her stomach felt sick. She didn’t want people touching her mama. But Grace was going to make sure that Flora was returned to her home, and Mud believed her. “Yes.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Grace left the safehouse, unable to bear Mud’s grief a moment longer. It seeped into Grace’s bones, suffocating her in its intensity.

  The poor girl wanted her mother to be put back in the swamps where she’d originally buried her, back at their home. The only home Mud had ever known.

  Grace couldn’t imagine what Mud was going through, never knowing anything but those swamps, having a mother who’d taught her to fear everyone.

  Of course, Grace was beginning to understand Flora’s thoughts. Especially after what Jasper had done.

  Fighting her own anxiety and grief, Grace bypassed the village and drove to Calhoun. She would keep busy until Red Bear arrested Jasper. She couldn’t risk running into her husband, not in her current state of mind.

  Grace wondered if the tribal courts would be able to convict Jasper, since she hadn’t gone to the hospital to allow them to perform a rape kit on her. It would be her word against his.

  And then Jasper’s words slid through her mind. “The wife hath not power of her own body, but the husband, Grace. 1st Corinthians 7:4.”

  Grace shivered. Even though it was close to ninety degrees outside, her insides were cold to the bone.

  Stopping at the next red light, she thought about Flora and wondered if the other woman had gone through something similar. Had Flora been hurt by someone she trusted? Was that what caused her to flee to the swamps and give birth to a child out there?

  Then another thought occurred to her. Had Flora been fleeing Mud’s father? Is that why she disappeared from society? Nothing Grace found on the internet mentioned Flora having a child. Not even in her arrest reports.

  Grace reached into her purse and pulled a paper free to find Jesse Washington’s name and address written at the bottom. She remembered finding his information on one of her searches for Flora.

  Grace took a left at the light.

  Ten minutes later, she arrived in front of a well-manicured, white stucco home. The yard was completely fenced, and a swing set rested on the right side of the house.

  She debated on whether to get out or drive away and leave things be. But she couldn’t.

  Grace got out.

  Opening the front gate, Grace trailed up to the front and rang the bell.

  A pretty, dark-skinned woman answered the door, holding an even prettier little girl on her hip. “May I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Jesse Washington. Is this his home?”

  “Yes,” the woman responded, her gaze straying to the bruise on Grace’s cheek. “Would you like to come inside?”

  Grace hesitated. What was she doing? Was she really about to walk into this home and question a man about a woman fifteen years in his past—especially a man who had obviously moved on and now had a family?

  “Thank you,” she found herself saying instead.

  Once inside, Grace noticed two other children playing with toys near the television. The living room was immaculate and smelled of cinnamon.

  “Jesse?” the woman called before sending Grace a smile obviously meant to put her at ease. And then, she offered Grace a seat.

  Grace sat on the edge of the couch, watching the children play, when the man she’d seen in the picture on the internet strode in the room.

  He stopped in front of Grace and extended his hand. “Hello, I’m Jesse. What can I do for you?”

  Grace instantly felt comfortable in the man’s presence. He had friendly eyes and a nonthreatening stance.

  She accepted his outstretched palm. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Grace Holloway.”

  “Hey,” Jesse murmured to the kids. “You guys take your toys to the other room so Daddy can talk.”

  A chorus of “yes, sirs” resounded, and the children picked up their toys and hurried off.

  “You have beautiful children,” Grace confessed, watching them disappear around the corner.

  Jesse sent her a smile and took a seat in a chair across from her. “Thank you. What can I do for you, Mrs. Holloway?”

  Grace wasn’t sure where to beg
in. “Please, call me Grace.”

  “Okay, Grace.”

  Clearing her throat, Grace said the first thing she could think to say. “I’m here about Flora Ramer.”

  Jesse leaned back in his chair as if the wind had been kicked from him. “What about her?”

  “She,” Grace began, only to take a deep breath and try again. “She passed away a couple of years ago.”

  An angry look entered Jesse’s eyes. He sat forward, resting his hands between his knees. “Drug overdose?”

  That caught Grace off guard. “Why would you think that?”

  “Well, because she was pretty heavy into drugs when we split. Look, Mrs. Holloway, I’m sorry that Flora is dead, but she knew the risks of getting involved with that Dyson fellow, long before he started giving her those drugs.”

  Grace’s mouth dropped open. “Wait, what? What Dyson fellow are you referring to?”

  “Horace Dyson,” Jesse practically spat. “The piece of garbage took advantage of Flora. He was well aware of her illness before he hired her on.”

  Grace held up a hand. “Hang on. You’re telling me that Flora Ramer worked for Horace Dyson?”

  Jesse nodded. “She did his books. Flora was one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever known. She could do numbers in her sleep. She answered the bookkeeping ad that Dyson had in the paper, and the rest is history.”

  Pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together for Grace. “How long did she work for Dyson?”

  “I don’t know. Once she got on the heroin, she stopped taking her meds and turned insane. She tried to kill me in my sleep. When I called the police, they arrested us both for domestic violence.”

  Grace had read about that on the internet. “When you say she stopped taking her meds, what was she on medication for?”

  “Schizophrenia.”

  All the air left Grace’s body at once. No wonder the woman convinced Mud the Devil was after her. Flora was schizophrenic and off her meds.

  “I can see you’re shocked by that,” Jesse continued when Grace remained unmoving. “How did you know Flora?”

  Grace found her voice. “I didn’t. I only know of her through her daughter.”