The Girl Named Mud: A Gripping Suspense Novel

by Ditter Kellen

  “That was Flora’s fault that that cop got involved, Horace. Not mine. You know that. She’s the one who talked.”

  “And you were supposed to kill her before she did. But you’re an addict. A spineless coward who’s addicted to heroin. I’d hoped that we could continue doing business together, but you’ve proven time and again that you can’t be trusted. You disappoint me, Jasper.”

  An explosion rocked that bathroom, deafening and terrifying.

  Grace slapped a hand over her mouth, cutting off the scream currently on its way up her throat.

  She could only stand there, her heart hammering, her legs trembling, and her eyes filling with tears as Jasper dropped heavily to the floor at her feet. One small hole rested between his eyes.

  Grace’s hand fell away to grip the sink in front of her. “You killed him,” she whispered in a daze.

  Her knees suddenly buckled. Had she not been holding onto that sink, she would have collapsed on top of Jasper’s still form.

  She chanced a glance in Jasper’s direction, horrified to find his eyes still open, though clearly unseeing.

  “Of course I killed him,” Horace stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “I warned him what would happen if I ever caught him stealing from me. And I’d suspected him of it for a while now. But I’ve been too preoccupied with the search for my boy.”

  His shifted his attention to Jasper’s dead body. Grace could see him fighting his emotions. He appeared almost as unstable as Jasper had been. Almost.

  Horace then lifted his gaze back to Grace, sending her already frayed nerves into orbit. “They released Albert’s body today. Did you know that?”

  Grace shook her head.

  “No?” He waved the gun around in front of him. “Now, I find that a little hard to believe, since you’ve been caring for his murderer all this time.”

  Understanding full well that he spoke of Mud, Grace rasped, “I’m sorry about your son, Mr. Dyson, but what that little girl did was out of self-defense. Nothing more. She’s not a killer, she’s—”

  “She’s a Dyson,” he growled, still waving that gun around. “Don’t tell me she’s no killer. It’s in her genes. And when I’m done with her, she’ll be a lot more than a killer.”

  Grace’s blood turned to ice. “You leave her alone!”

  Horace laughed. “This one’s got spirit, Mathew.” Pausing, Horace’s gaze slid over Grace’s trembling body. “Make sure the church doors are locked, boy.”

  “Please,” Grace began to beg, shaking her head and pleading with her eyes. “Don’t do this, Mr. Dyson.”

  The corner of Horace’s mouth lifted. “Do you really think I can just walk out of here and leave you alive, Mrs. Holloway? You know too much. You’ve seen too much.”

  ”People know I’m here,” she choked out, her voice rising in volume. “You won’t get away with whatever you’re thinking of doing.”

  Mathew suddenly appeared at his father’s side, a lustful look in his eyes. “Doors are all locked.”

  Horace jerked his head toward the basement area and demanded of Grace, “In there.”

  Grace didn’t want to go in there. There was far more room for them to hurt her in there. “Please!”

  Horace grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her forward. “I said, move!”

  Grace cried out from the pain that shot up her scalp, both hands going to the hand still wrapped in her hair.

  She suddenly found herself on her knees on the small bed that Jasper had been sleeping on.

  “Helppppppp!” Grace screamed as loud and hard as she could.

  Mathew’s fist slammed against her jaw. Her tooth split her bottom lip, and the copper taste of blood filled her mouth.

  He hit her again, her head snapping back with enough force it cracked the sheetrock behind her.

  She slid to her side on the mattress.

  Mathew’s hands were on instantly on her. He gripped the collar of her blouse and ripped it down the front.

  Horace whistled low. “Will you look at that. Magnificent.”

  He nodded toward Mathew. “You can have her first, son.”

  Grace’s hysterics were fairly choking her, but her body wouldn’t obey her command to fight. Perhaps it had to do with the fist slamming against her face. Or, possibly because the barrel of that gun hovered not three feet from her. “Don’t do this,” she managed to whisper through her swollen and bleeding lips.

  Mathew hesitated. “You sure you don’t want her first, Daddy?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I can wait. Besides, I’m a backdoor kind of man, if you know what I mean. You go on and have some fun.”

  Grace rolled as far away from Mathew as she could.

  He only gripped her by the hair and dragged her back to the center of the bed. “Get her pants, Daddy.”

  “Noooooooo!” she managed to hoarsely scream, fighting with every ounce of strength she possessed. Yet, they managed to rip her pants down her legs.

  Deep down inside, Grace knew there was nothing she could do, that these two monsters would take her against her will, over and over, before killing her.

  She stared up at the ceiling while Mathew Dyson ripped her bra free from her body.

  Grace prayed like she’d never prayed before.

  A loud crash registered somewhere in her horrified brain, and then an explosion, and another.

  Mathew’s body dropped heavily onto Grace’s trembling one, knocking the breath from her lungs.

  “No, no, no, no,” she moaned, bracing herself for what was to come.

  The weight abruptly lifted from her.

  Grace threw up her hands, intending on stopping the next blow she knew would come, when Red Bear’s face appeared in her blurred vision.

  She had to be hallucinating. Yes, that was it. Horace had drugged her with his heroin, and she was seeing Red Bear’s face instead of Mathew’s.

  “Get away from me!” She swung out with her fist but met only air.

  “Grace, it’s me, Red Bear. You’re safe now. I got you.”

  Strong yet gentle arms went around her, and a blanket was draped across her nudity. “Easy, Grace. I’m here.”

  Grace shivered uncontrollably. Drugged or not, she knew that to be Red Bear now holding her… She could smell his clean scent. “He—They—”

  “They’re dead, Grace. They can never hurt you again.”

  Safe. Grace felt the safety of Red Bear’s embrace. He held her against him for several minutes, hours, days—she wasn’t sure. Nor did she care. Horace and Mathew were dead. That’s all that mattered to her in that moment.

  Red Bear suddenly stood and swung her up into his arms. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Grace lay in a comfortable bed at the tribal hospital after being checked out by the local Choctaw doctor. He’d informed her that she had a fractured cheekbone, a concussion, and some bruising. She hadn’t been raped. Red Bear had thankfully arrived in time.

  Her mind drifted to Jasper and everything he’d confessed to in that bathroom. He’d had a vasectomy.

  Tears filled Grace’s eyes. All those years she had blamed herself for not conceiving. The bouts of depression and feelings of being unworthy because she couldn’t have children. And the entire time it had been Jasper’s fault, not hers.

  She stared up at the ceiling, wondering how she couldn’t have seen the signs. They were all there, if she’d simply looked.

  The mission trips Jasper had never allowed Grace to go on, the late nights spent at the church, the lack of interest or emotion about Grace’s infertility issues. How in God’s name could he have let her blame herself…? To feel broken for the last fifteen years.

  Jasper was supposed to be a man of God. And Grace believed he truly was in the beginning. What could have happened to him along the way to change him from a man of the cloth to a monster? Drugs? Women? She didn’t know.

  A soft knock sounded on the door, and Red Bear poked his head inside. “Are y
ou up for a few visitors?”

  Grace sat up in bed, grateful for the distraction of company. She didn’t want to think any longer, to relive the nightmare of what had been her life.

  Attempting to paste on a smile through her swollen and busted lips, Grace nodded. “Yes, come in.”

  Red Bear stepped into the room, followed by Jaya and…Mud.

  Mud’s eyes were huge in her face, a haunted look Grace had seen in them before. “Hi there, Mud.”

  The girl inched closer to the bed, hesitantly yet bravely. “Jaya said you was hurt.”

  Grace reached for Mud’s hand, surprised when she didn’t pull away. “I’m fine now. And the doctor says I can go home tomorrow.”

  Home, Grace thought with more than a little sadness. Where was her home? She certainly didn’t want to go back to the parsonage. Too many memories of Jasper lingered in that place, memories she wanted to forget.

  Grace had spent the last fifteen years of her existence with a man who lived a double life. Nothing made sense to her anymore. She had no idea where she belonged or who she even was, for that matter.

  She looked into Mud’s worried eyes, and her own life didn’t seem quite so bad. This child standing before her had lived through things that Grace probably couldn’t have survived. Yet, she’d made it through.

  But what would happen to Mud when the dust settled? Would she end up in the custody of the state to drift from foster home to foster home?

  Something shifted inside Grace the longer she stared into Mud’s haunting eyes. An acceptance of sorts.

  Mud’s small fingers suddenly tightened around Grace’s hand, nearly bringing Grace to tears.

  She blinked a few times and cleared the lump from her throat. “Mud?”

  The little girl didn’t move, but her gaze remained locked with Grace’s.

  Grace could see that Mud prepared herself for bad news. Not that Grace could blame her. Mud had been the poster child for bad news since the day she was born. “Tell me what it is that you want, Mud.”

  Confusion was obvious in the child. “What I want?”

  “Yes, Mud. What do you want? Where do you want to go? Where do you want to live? And with whom? The decision is yours.”

  Grace truly hoped that Mud would choose her, but instead of answering, Mud released Grace’s hand and fled the room.

  Jaya went after her.

  Red Bear remained standing against the wall, unmoving, not speaking.

  Grace heaved a weary sigh and dropped her head back against the pillow. She would figure out a way to approach Mud again once the doctor allowed her to leave.

  After long moments of silence, Grace turned her head in Red Bear’s direction. She needed to tell him what she’d learned in the basement of that church. “Jasper is responsible for your brother’s death.”

  A muscle ticked along Red Bear’s jaw. “He told you that?”

  “No. Horace Dyson did. Horace ordered Jasper to kill him, to make it look like a hate crime, but Jasper couldn’t…finish the job.”

  Red Bear pushed away from the wall. “Then who did?”

  Grace could see the pain in Red Bear’s eyes, though he tried to hide it. She ached for him too. “Mathew Dyson. He…removed your brother’s hair. Both men were involved in his death, a death that was ordered by Horace Dyson.”

  Red Bear’s mouth tightened. He pulled a chair over next to Grace’s bed and lowered his tall frame into it.

  “I’m sorry, Red Bear. I truly am.”

  He leaned forward slightly. “I always suspected Horace Dyson had something to do with Etu’s death. Horace hated my brother. He’d threatened Etu on more than one occasion.”

  Grace thought about the look on Horace’s face when he’d confessed to Etu’s murder. The man had shown zero remorse. Grace wondered if he’d ever been capable of the emotion. She doubted it. “Why did he threaten your brother?”

  “Etu had informed the Shipper Parish Police Department that Dyson was growing poppies on his property. Horace became enraged with Etu over that. One day, Etu was eating at Smith’s Barbeque in the village. When he returned to his truck, it had been vandalized, the word snitch spray-painted on the side. Etu confronted Horace, but given that he had no proof of Dyson’s involvement, there was nothing Etu could do.”

  “I can see why you would have had suspicions about Dyson when your brother was murdered.”

  Red Bear rubbed at his eyes and then met Grace’s gaze. “I cannot bring my brother back, but I can go to my grave with the knowledge that his killer no longer draws breath.”

  Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts. And then, Grace’s emotions welled up to the point where she could no longer hold them inside. They began to spill from her in the form of words.

  She told Red Bear everything that happened in that basement. From Jasper’s intentions of killing her and his confession of Etu’s murder to Horace and Mathew’s plan to take turns with her before ending her life.

  Grace shuddered. “I don’t know what I would have done had you not shown up when you did. I owe you my life.”

  Red Bear pushed to his feet. “You do not owe me anything, Grace. I’m only glad that I arrived in time. Now, get some rest. I’ll come back and check on you in the morning.”

  With that, he left the room, leaving Grace alone with her thoughts, her memories, and the nightmare of what she’d lived through.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Mud sat alone in her room at the safehouse, finding it hard to breath. Grace’s words resounded through her mind, again and again. “What do you want? Where do you want to go? Where do you want to live? And with whom? The decision is yours.”

  Confused, Mud thought about her mama being delivered back to the grave in the swamps. And Mud wanted more than anything to be near her mama.

  But she also wanted to be with Grace.

  Mud wasn’t sure why she felt so close to Grace, but she did. There was something about the woman that drew Mud to her. Maybe it was because Grace had rescued her, had always been honest with her, and seemed to care about Mud’s feelings where her mama was concerned.

  “Hey,” Jaya softly called, poking her head into Mud’s room. “Are you okay?”

  Mud could only nod. “I was just thinking about Grace.”

  “May I come in?” Jaya asked, an expectant look on her face.

  “Yeah.”

  Jaya trailed inside and moved to stand next to the bed Mud sat on. “Mrs. Holloway is going to be all right, Mud. You’ll be able to see her again. If you want to, that is.”

  Mud lifted her gaze to Jaya’s. “Can you take me back to see her?”

  “Now?”

  Mud nodded. After everything that had happened over the past few weeks, Mud wanted more than anything to return home. But she wanted Grace to go with her. She’d seen the hurt in Grace’s eyes, the disappointment at Mud’s rejection of her. Though Mud hadn’t wanted to reject her, she hadn’t known how to cope with the feelings Grace’s offer had provoked.

  Jaya held out her hand. “Come on, Mud. I’ll take you back to the hospital.”

  * * * *

  Mud entered Grace’s hospital room, her chest tight, and her stomach in knots. What if Grace had only been trying to make her feel better by offering her a choice of where she wanted to live?

  Grace suddenly opened her eyes and turned her head in Mud’s direction. “Mud?”

  “I’ll just give you two some time alone,” Jaya announced from the doorway. She backed out of the room and softly closed the door behind her.

  Mud slowly approached Grace’s bed. “You said I could go where I wanted. I want to go home.”

  Grace pressed a button to raise the head of her bed. “The problem with that is, we have to find out if the state will be involved. Since you were born on tribal lands, I’m hoping the Choctaws will have jurisdiction over you. If they do, then I don’t think there will be a problem with you going back to the swamps.”

  Mud had no
idea what jurisdiction meant. So, she asked. “What’s jurisdiction?”

  “It means the power to make legal decisions and judgments. And since you’re only twelve years old, you’re not old enough to make those decisions by yourself. And you have no parents to decide for you. Which leaves either the state to do that or the Choctaws. Unless…”

  Mud tilted her head to the side, understanding some of Grace’s words. She stared over at the woman, waited for her to continue.

  “Unless someone steps forward to be your legal guardian.”

  “Legal guardian?”

  “Your mother of sorts.”

  “My mama is dead,” Mud painfully whispered.

  Tears sprang to Grace’s eyes, catching Mud off guard.

  “I know she is. But you can have more than one mother, Mud. And if you’ll have me, I would like to be that for you.”

  A myriad of sensations overtook Mud in that moment. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe. Grace had just offered to be her mama. And though Mud’s mama could never be replaced, Grace would sure make a good second. “Y-you want to become my mama?”

  A lone tear spilled from Grace’s right eye. “Yes, if you’ll have me.”

  Mud took another hesitant step forward. “Where would we live?”

  “Well, I would have to speak with the Choctaw about building a house on their lands. But if they allow me to, I will have a cabin built near your mother’s grave. In the meantime, I guess we’ll have to rent a place in the village.”

  Mud had not shed a tear since the day she’d buried her mama. But they burned behind her eyes now. “Y-you mean that?”

  “I do,” Grace whispered brokenly. “You deserve some happiness, Mud. And if it’s in my power to do, I will give that to you.”

  Unable to contain her feelings another second, Mud staggered the rest of the way to Grace’s bed and fell across her chest.