by Gen Griffin
IF PIGS
COULD FLY
A POSSUM CREEK NOVEL
GEN GRIFFIN
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IF PIGS COULD FLY
POSSUM CREEK
BOOK SIX
Copyright © 2016 by Gen Griffin
All rights reserved.
ASIN:
ISBN13: 978-1542467629
ISBN-10: 1542467624
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Gen Griffin
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Catfishin'
Also By Gen Griffin
Harvest Moon Bonding Company
Faith, Love and Werewolves
Jackal's Bite (Coming Soon)
The Possum Creek Series
Hot Southern Mess
Hissy Fit
Hot Southern Nights
Pretty Is As Pretty Does
Give Me Some Sugar
If Pigs Could Fly
Catfishin' (Coming Soon)
Lord Have Mercy (Prequel Novella)
Sweatin' Like A Sinner In Church (Possum Creek Spin-off)
After The Apocalypse
The Scavengers
Church of Chaos
False Idols
Chapter 1
“Dear Lord. How did you even find this place?” Sullivan Briggs stopped thirty feet away from a massive wooden cabin and stared at the looming structure with a mixture of amazement and disgust. He was standing knee deep in mud because there were no other options. Every bit of the so-called land surrounding the cabin was actually sucking, stinking black swamp muck that was only pretending to be solid until someone stepped on it. Sully's previously neat uniform pants were soaked up to mid-thigh with cold swamp water and coated in black mud. His boots were sloshing with every step he took as he struggled to make his way to the front door.
The cabin was a pre-fabricated model designed to appeal to city dwellers with too much money and no clue as to what sort of amenities would actually prove useful in the middle of a swamp. It featured two massive porches, an etched glass front door that displayed a picturesque woodland scene and a Jacuzzi. The Jacuzzi's cover had blown off. The green water had become a breeding ground for large bullfrogs. The frogs were croaking loudly as Addison and Sully slowly made their way up to the abandoned residence.
“Me?” Addison wasn't nearly as wet as Sully because he had taken the time to put on waders. Being dry wasn't much of a comfort as he slogged the rest of the way up the muddy, stump lined bank. He kept slipping and sliding back down into the black, stinking mud. “I can find it because I know it's here.”
“Not what I was asking. We all know you're a swamp rat at heart. I was more wondering-,” Sullivan hesitated as he frowned at the cabin, “-how did this house get out here?”
Addison found himself wishing for a cigarette as he huffed and puffed his way to the top of the bank. “It's a long story. There are actually ten. No, fourteen? Fourteen or Fifteen of them. I think. Maybe. I haven't counted in a few years.”
“It's a manufactured log cabin, isn't it?” Sully stumbled up onto the porch steps and drug himself out of the mud. “It looks like all those tourist rentals they have in the mountains. Why would anyone want a place this fancy way out here?”
“They don't.” Addison hefted himself onto the porch. He was less than agile in his waders but he was still glad he'd brought them. Slow and clumsy was better than wet and muddy any day of the week.
Sully shot him a questioning look. “Someone built fourteen log cabins out here that they didn't want?”
Addy sighed and dug a cigarette out of his pocket. He lit it with a quick flick of the lighter and took a deep breath. The chilly early evening air mixed nicely with the smoke in his lungs.
Addison hadn't particularly liked Sullivan Briggs when he'd been hired on with the Sheriff's Department to take over Ian's position until Ian decided to pull himself together and come back to work. His dislike had quickly turned into like. Sully's presence within the department had taken a lot of the stress out of Addison's day-to-day life. Addy hadn't realized how incompetent Ian and Kerry truly were until they had been replaced with someone who could actually do the job. Addison had gone nearly two full months without being called to rescue any of his co-workers from a mess of their own creation. It was nice. Real nice. It had made him feel pretty darn fondly about Sully.
“A very greedy developer bought a chunk of land out here real cheap and got clever with it,” Addy explained. “I suspect he had a discount deal with whoever manufactured the cabins. He had all of them hauled in, set up real quick and then he sold them as rustic retreats for people with too much money and not enough common sense.”
“Rustic retreats,” Sully said the words as if they tasted sour in his mouth. “Well, he got the rustic part right.”
“Yeah.” Addy had little doubt that swamp that surrounded the cabin would eventually swallow the structure via sinkhole. “They're rustic. Also, mostly inaccessible. There's a lawsuit pending. It's been pending for a long time now. I don't
know if it'll ever be settled. Heard a rumor that the developer bolted to South America.”
“I still can't figure out how they actually got these cabins to this location,” Sully said.
“Technically, there is a road.”
“There's a road and you made us take a three hour trip across the bayou by boat to get here?” Sully scowled at Addison. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
“I like the bayou and I needed to check on some of my favorite swamp-dwelling poachers. I figured I'd make the trip worth the gas.” Addy winked at Sullivan as he took another drag off of his cigarette. “Besides, the old Ford couldn't get back here. I'm not about to ruin my brand new Dodge trying. Trust me when I say that David's wrecker cannot make it through the mud run that used to be the road.”
“The road is that bad?”
“The developer was pretty slick. We'd been under drought conditions for about three years when he decided to build his little faux subdivision. Everything was as close to dried up as its ever gotten. He brought in a few truckloads of clay and a grader. The road lasted just as long as it took him to unload most of the cabins on his unsuspecting victims. I actually think there are still one or two that technically never did sell. I don't know. I haven't checked deeds in a long time. Most of these places are in foreclosure. The purchasers stopped making their payments pretty quickly once they realized they couldn't access the properties or find any suckers to re-sell them to.”
“But not this one?” Sully gestured at the cabin in front of them.
“No. Not this one.” Addison let out a tortured sigh. “This cabin belongs to John G. Grafton of Michigan and he is a grouchy, miserable old bastard.”
“I take it that this isn't your first trip out here?” Sully walked over to the front door and inspected the door knob and lock. It didn't appear to have been tampered with.
“John G. Grafton is the asshole who attempted to get his 4x4 Subaru station wagon down the so-called road. Baker County Wrecker sunk two trucks trying to get to it. David took one look at Marty's sinking trucks and refused to try with his. We ended up having to borrow an excavator from a swamp logging company over in Chester County. It took us three weeks to get everything back out.”
“Well...” Sully took two steps to the left and peered in through a window. “Man wants to use his property, I guess.”
“Oh, he's determined to get his money's worth. Unfortunately, he has no outdoor skills whatsoever. I have no idea what the man does for a living, but I promise he sits behind a desk somewhere and crushes the souls of the working men and women he supervises. I have rarely had the displeasure of dealing with a less pleasant human being.” Addison tried to sound as pretentious as possible and then stuck his tongue out.
“That's saying something coming from you.” Sully didn't look impressed.
“Dude's a total ass. He tried to bring his wife out here by boat. She called dispatch crying four hours later because he'd capsized.” Addison licked his lips and then cracked his knuckles. “I found the pair of them almost nine hours later sitting in a nest of cypress knees drinking Merlot straight out of the bottle. He screamed at me for thirty minutes because I took too long to find them. Nevermind that they were literally miles away from the cabin, the landing or anywhere they had any fucking business being to begin with. When he got done screaming at me for taking too long to rescue him, he moved on to screaming at me for not being able to find his damn capsized boat. He'd let it float away. It turned up three days later belly up in the lake.”
“Sounds like a real charmer.”
“He is. He's just a doll. I was fucking thrilled to get a message on my voicemail from him.” Addison rubbed his hands together as he scanned the nearby treeline. It would be dark in less than an hour and, truthfully, getting out here had taken longer than he'd thought it would. He shivered slightly in the winter breeze. The ride home was going to be long, frigid and generally miserable if they didn't hurry up and leave. “I'll bet you a hundred bucks no one has been out here in months and the old man is just sending us out here to waste our damn time.”
Sully shrugged and tried the door knob. It was locked. “He said someone has been living out here?”
“Yeah. He says he's got solar powered, motion-detecting cameras set up out here. Evidently, the cameras transmit images to his email or whatever. He said he's been getting pictures of a woman coming in and out of the cabin for the last week and a half.”
“A woman has been living here for a week and a half and he's only calling now?” Sully asked.
“Oh, no. He's called every day for a week and a half. I'm only getting around to his complaints now.” Addison winked at Sully as he dug around in his pocket and then produced a key. “Old bastard can bitch at me all he wants to. He can't actually make me do shit.”
Sully shot Addison a look. Sully wasn't the kind of cop who would ever let a call go a week and a half without investigating it regardless of how little he liked the citizen who made the complaint.
Addy put the key in the lock and turned it. “We're severely understaffed. Whose real emergency call am I supposed to ignore so that I can drag myself out into the swamp and search for a mystery squatter?”
Sully just shook his head as Addison opened the door for him and made a mock bow, gesturing for Sully to go first. “You're an ass, Malone.”
“And?” Addison shamelessly sucked his cigarette as he walked into the musty living room a few feet behind Sully. Sully sat down on the edge of a small bench and began to pry off his muddy boots.
“Don't bother,” Addison said. “A little mud won't hurt this place. I don't think anyone has been out here in years.”
“Years?” Sully frowned at the interior of the cabin. It was surprisingly neat. Too neat, really.
“Grafton hasn't tried to come back out here since the boat incident. I'm pretty sure his wife threatened to divorce him if he wasted even one more vacation day on this shithole.”
Sully abandoned his efforts to remove his muddy boots. He stood up and walked into the living room. He surveyed the room curiously before moving on to the kitchen. He paid special attention to the corners of the rooms as he walked through the house and paused several times to run his fingertips across the tops of various pieces of furniture. He stopped when he reached the bathroom. It smelled like lavender cleaning solution. The counter top was covered in cosmetic products. “Hey Malone, how old are the owners of this place?”
“Middle-aged. Around the same ages as my folks. Why?”
Sully picked up a bottle of perfume that had been sitting on the counter. “This bathroom is chock full of fairly new beauty products.”
“So?”
“They look pretty trendy.” He held the perfume bottle out to Addison. “You ever seen this stuff before?”
Addison started to automatically say no and then he stopped and wrinkled his nose. “Actually, yeah. Mak wears it. It costs a small fortune.”
“It's also pretty new, isn't it?”
Addison shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea. I don't wear perfume.”
“Last time I went back up to Silver City Tate had me pick up a bottle as a surprise for Jo Beth's birthday.” Sully turned the bottle over in his hands a few more times. “It's a brand new scent and she was excited about it coming out.”
“So?”
“If the cabin has been abandoned for years, then how did this get here?” Sully asked.
Addison scowled. “Don't tell me you really think there is some chick living in this house. I was looking forward to calling Grafton back and telling him he was batshit crazy.”
“Uh huh. I bet you were. Another thing.” Sully held up two fingers in the air. “Where's the dust?”
“What dust?” Addison asked.
“Exactly,” Sully said. “House is awfully clean for an abandoned property. Come into the bathroom and look at this tub. It's still white. No mold on the tile. No mold on the grout. It smells like someone's been cleaning in there.”
“Makes sense if she's trying to live here.” Sully turned and headed for the back of the cabin. He went into the master bedroom and began opening drawers on the dresser and pulling out clothes. “You remember what the wife looked like?”
Addison leaned on the door frame and nodded. He was watching Sully with mild interest as Sully pulled a slinky, see-through blue tank top out of one of the top drawers. “It's a size small. Think it belongs to the wife?”
“No,” Addison said flatly. “She wasn't a big lady, but she was bigger than that. Didn't strike me as the slutty type, either. I'm wanting to say she's an elementary school principal or something like that.”
“So this probably isn't hers either.” Sully held up a very short yellow skirt that could have done double duty as a handkerchief.
“I wouldn't think so.” Addy pulled out a second cigarette and lit it.
“Some woman is living here,” Sully decided.
“Okay.” Addy chewed on the filter as he spoke. “What do you want to do?”
“We could wait for her to come back and then arrest her for trespassing. Do you think the owners will want her prosecuted?”
“I doubt Grafton would pass up the opportunity to make someone else miserable, but I'm not waiting around out here all night for some squatter who might or might not come back. Our squatter may not be staying here full time. She might just be using the property as a love nest.”
Sully raised one eyebrow. “I hadn't thought about that. Could be kids. Or maybe someone cheating on their spouse. ”
“It wouldn't be the first time someone used an abandoned fish camp as a hookup location. Especially if they're trying to keep the relationship a secret.” Addy offered a partial smile. “Not that I would ever have snuck onto someone's fish camp or houseboat in my younger days.”
Sully snorted. “In other words, that was what you always did?”
“It was romantic, dude. Take a girl out on your boat, give her a scenic night ride through the swamp followed by hot sex. We'd just fuck in the boats or on the docks in the summer, but this time of year?” Addy shook his head at the memories. “I might have broken into a few fish camps back in the day.”
