Crap. She’d seen the gun.
“Run, Amanda!” Charley advised. “Get away from her!”
Amanda had been considering just that action until Charley suggested it. Instead, she stood quietly while Dub strolled into the bar.
A dog barked somewhere in the distance. Crickets chirped all around them. The night was soft and warm and normal while Charley paced up and down in front of her, going a little higher off the ground with each turn. Nothing normal about that.
“What are you planning to do with that gun?” Sunny asked.
Charley ceased pacing and settled to the ground, folding his arms and watching the exchange intently.
“I have a Right to Carry permit,” Amanda replied defiantly. “I’m legal.”
“I know that, but it doesn’t answer my question. What do you plan to do with that gun?”
“Target practice.” Amanda decided she didn’t like Sunny Donovan after all. Where did the woman get off, questioning her about something that was none of her business? “How do you know I have a Right to Carry?”
“Amanda, I think you’re in some kind of trouble, and I want to help you. Please let me help you.”
Sunny Donovan was the self-appointed guardian of the underdog in Silver Creek, and Amanda was her latest project. It was hard to be angry with someone so sincere and determined to help.
“I appreciate your concern, but I’ve got everything under control.”
“What do you have under control?”
Lawyers. This interrogation reminded her of her father. She supposed that association actually made her feel more kindly disposed toward the aggressive, annoying woman. “The gun. My life.” She spread her arms wide. “Everything.”
Sunny sighed, put her palms together and held her hands to her mouth, studying Amanda intently as if trying to read her mind. Finally she dropped her hands in resignation and smiled. “You’re stubborn, determined, independent. I like you. Please, think about letting me help you. If you get in trouble you can’t handle on your own, if at any time you realize you’re no longer in control of everything, call me. Day or night. I always have my cell phone with me, even when I’m in court.”
Amanda grinned wryly. “Even when you’re in court? My dad...he’s a judge...would throw out any lawyer whose cell phone rang during court.”
“I keep it on vibrate when I’m in court.” She reached inside her purse and pulled out the object under discussion. “What’s your cell number?”
Amanda recited her number as Sunny punched it into her phone.
Amanda’s phone rang.
“There.” Sunny disconnected before Amanda could extract her phone from her purse. “You have my number in your phone so you can call me without looking it up.”
“Okay, okay. I promise I’ll call if I get in over my head.”
Sunny turned toward the bar, but Amanda put a hand on her arm to stop her, a reversal of their earlier roles. “How did you know I was here?”
Sunny regarded her quietly for a moment, then she smiled. “I didn’t. I came to see my client, Dub.”
Amanda released her arm, and Sunny continued into the bar.
“I don’t believe her,” she said to Charley. “Do you suppose she’s helping Kimball?”
“No!” Charley protested. “Not for one minute do I believe Sunny Donovan would help a scumbag like Roland Kimball. She would never do anything to hurt you.”
But Amanda wasn’t so certain. Maybe Sunny thought she was doing the right thing. Maybe Kimball had somehow convinced Sunny that whatever he had in mind for Amanda was somehow in her best interest.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Amanda returned to find Irene sitting on the sofa in the living room, worry creasing her forehead.
A tiny part of Amanda was pleased Irene cared so much, but the rest of her was dismayed that she was causing her mother-in-law to worry. She didn’t want to upset her further by telling her what she planned to do. In fact, she didn’t want to talk about it at all. She wanted to get upstairs, hide under the covers and try not to think about the gun inside her jacket pocket...or where the gun would be that time tomorrow night.
“See?” Amanda smiled widely. “I’m fine! Thanks for waiting up. Good-night.”
“You’re not fine,” Irene said softly. “We need to talk. Let’s go to the kitchen and have some hot chocolate.”
Uh-oh. The kitchen table. Ominous.
Irene heated milk in the microwave and added Ghirardelli chocolate while Amanda sat stiffly at the table. Though the house was warm, she kept her leather jacket on, kept the gun pressed close. Absurdly, she felt if she let it out of her possession in the house, it would somehow spread its influence and involve Irene and her family in the upcoming confrontation with Kimball.
Irene joined her at the table, and Amanda sipped her hot chocolate. “Delicious,” she said. “As if you could make anything that isn’t.”
“Thank you.” Irene wrapped her hands around her cup but did not drink. “Herbert and I talked while you were gone. We decided that whatever you’re planning to do, we’re going to help you. That man has got to pay for killing our son.”
“You’re going to help?” Images of Irene and Herbert attacking Kimball with kitchen knives, rolling pin, knitting needles and a rolled up copy of Reader’s Digest raced through her head. “No, you can’t. Kimball knows that Herbert talked to the cops.”
“I know,” Irene said.
“You do?” So much for trying to protect her.
“It’s a small town. Everybody knows everything. But this did show us how big a problem we’re up against.” She shook her head slowly. “I sure didn’t think something like this could happen in Silver Creek. It’s a good place, a lot of good people. I always knew Roland Kimball wasn’t a nice man. I just never would have dreamed something like this could happen.”
Amanda nodded grimly. “Kimball thinks he’s all-powerful. He thinks he’s above the law. He thinks his money can buy him the right to commit murder.”
“He’s wrong, and we’re all going to work together to prove it. Tell us your plan, and we’ll figure out where we fit in.”
“Agree with her.” Charley appeared at her elbow. “You can’t argue with my mother. Just agree with her, and then we’ll make sure she doesn’t know what we’re doing.”
“Umm…okay.” She lifted her cup of hot chocolate and drank, giving herself a moment to think.
Irene looked surprised at the easy agreement. “Where did you go tonight?” she asked. “What are we going to do next?”
Amanda decided to allay Irene’s suspicions by telling her the truth up to the point of the actual meeting with Kimball. “I bought an unregistered gun. I’m ready to meet with Kimball, give him the gun and tell him it’s the one he used to kill Dianne.”
“And you think he’s going to confess while you to record it on your cell phone?”
“Exactly.”
“How do you think you’re going to get him to confess to murder? He’s been smart enough to get away with it for years. Why would he tell you now?”
Not a good idea to tell Irene she was sure Kimball planned to kill her so he wouldn’t be worried about what he told her. “I’m going to appeal to his gigantic ego. Get him to brag.”
She did not plan to let Kimball kill her, of course. Dub had put bullets in her gun. And she was almost beginning to believe the purpose of Charley’s continuing presence just might be to save her life so she could take Kimball down. But she wasn’t going to tell Irene any of that.
“What do you want Herbert and me to do?”
“Tell her you need Dad to bring his shotgun to the meeting,” Charley said.
“I need Herbert to come to the meeting. Bring his shotgun, hide and provide backup.”
Irene nodded, her jawline firm. “That sounds like a good idea. Herbert used to hunt a lot. He’s the best shot in the county.”
Amanda finished her hot chocolate. “Tomorrow.” She rose from the table, the weig
ht of the loaded gun in her jacket pocket comforting and frightening at the same time.
She climbed the stairs, her footsteps leaden. Was this the last time she’d climb those stairs or any stairs?
Don’t even go there! she admonished herself.
In her bedroom...Charley’s old bedroom...she changed into her night shirt without even checking the shadows for Charley. His seeing her undressed ranked low on her list of things to fear.
She settled into bed and pulled the covers over her head.
Tomorrow.
This nightmare that had begun with Charley’s phone call about the gun then progressed through his murder and her almost-murder would end tomorrow, one way or the other.
Tomorrow she’d face Kimball. Beard the lion in his den.
That brought up the question of where they’d meet. She had no doubt he’d choose someplace where he felt comfortable, someplace isolated since he planned to kill her, someplace that would allow for easy disposal of her body.
Would he lure her to the lake the way he’d done with Dianne?
She had no car they could sit in. Not likely he’d kill her in his own car.
Make that—try to kill her in his own car.
No, he wouldn’t want to get blood on the leather interior of that big, black Cadillac.
So maybe he wouldn’t shoot her. Maybe he’d strangle her. Avoid the blood evidence.
Nah. Surely after Herbert’s call to the police, Kimball would be careful not to get DNA evidence in his car, and with her hair, she’d be sure to leave lots of long, curly, red DNA.
So would they meet in a clearing in the woods?
She couldn’t see Kimball sitting cross-legged on the grass in the moonlight, requesting she hand over the gun. No, he’d want somewhere private.
She sat upright in bed. “Charley?”
“Right here, Babe. I’ll never leave you.”
Yeah, he’d been there, watching, when she changed clothes. “Don’t threaten me like that. Hey, are there fishing or hunting cabins around the lake?”
“Lots of them. Why?”
“Does Kimball own one?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Maybe that’s where he’s going to take me for the meeting.”
“Could be, but there are a lot of cabins around that lake, acres of woods. It’s a pretty good size lake.”
She snatched up her cell phone. “I know who can find out.”
Dawson answered on the fourth ring.
“I have something really important I need you to find for me.”
“Okay.”
“Can you search real estate records and see if Kimball owns some property close to the lake where Dianne Carter’s body was found?”
“Yes, I can do that.”
“Kimball or his dad or his wife or her family. Anybody related to him.”
“Okay.”
“I need it in the morning.”
“No problem. Do you want to know what I found out about Sunny Donovan?”
At that point, Amanda wasn’t very interested in Sunny Donovan and whatever mess she and Charley had got into, but she didn’t want to sound ungrateful. “Yes, of course.”
“Born in Silver Creek, Texas. Her father was killed in a hunting accident when she was three years old, and her mother never remarried. The mother only had a high school education, so it was difficult for her to raise Sunny by herself. She often worked two jobs, developed health problems, but she was determined to get her daughter educated. Sunny got a scholarship to UT Austin where she studied law, then she went back to Silver Creek to practice so she could be close to her mother and help her.”
That all aligned with what Irene had told her. “Any connection to Charley?”
“She was his lawyer when he got arrested on a drug charge. Got him probation.”
“That’s it?”
“Nothing more that involves Charley, but I did find one thing that’s kind of interesting. Sunny interned her senior year at your dad’s law firm.”
The connection was interesting, but Amanda couldn’t see how it related to Charley or why it would be part of a big secret. Lots of law students had interned at her father’s firm over the years.
She frowned into the darkness. What about those fleeting suspicions she’d had concerning her dad’s odd behavior, the way he’d withheld knowledge of Charley’s family and repeatedly bailed Charley out of trouble? Almost as if Charley had a hold over her dad.
Crazy, irrational thought...had Sunny learned something about her dad during her internship, something she’d told Charley that had allowed him to blackmail her father?
Even as the thought formed, she dismissed it. Her father had nothing to hide. He was the quintessential upright, uptight citizen.
“Thanks, Dawson. I really appreciate all your help.” A lump suddenly and unexpectedly formed in her throat. “You’ve been my friend as well as my assistant. I know I can always count on you.”
“Yes,” Dawson said. “Of course you can count on me. And I am your friend.” He was silent for a moment. “Are you okay, Amanda?”
Amanda laughed shakily. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little emotional tonight. I’m meeting Kimball tomorrow to give him the bogus gun, and it’s made me kind of nervous.” Made her think about things like never climbing the stairs to this bedroom again, never seeing her father or mother or Dawson again.
“That’s why you want to find out if Kimball has access to some property where he might take you? Dianne was killed in her car out by that lake.”
“I don’t have a car. We can’t have an intimate conversation and gun exchange on my motorcycle. If he thought the lake was a good spot for murder before, maybe he’ll think that again, but this time he’s going to need somewhere private. There are some cabins out by the lake. It’s a long shot. But I’d feel a little less nervous if I had some idea of where we’re going to meet. Maybe alert the cops.” So they can find my body. She had no illusions that either the Silver Creek Police Department or Detective Daggett would give any credence to anything she had to say before her murder.
“Amanda, you shouldn’t meet this guy, especially not alone.”
“I know. But I have to. I don’t think there’s any doubt he’s the one who jacked up my motorcycle, hoping I’d die. He thought Charley had already told me about Dianne’s murder. He’s going to keep trying to kill me until he succeeds or I stop him. And now it’s gone beyond that. Irene and Herbert are in danger.”
“That’s a pretty bad state of affairs. I’ll check on any real estate Kimball’s family owns that could be used for, uh, nefarious purposes. Is there anything else I can do? What about that gun you asked me about?”
“Got a gun.”
“You’ve got a gun? Maybe I should come down there.”
Amanda added the image of Dawson wielding a thumb drive to her images of Herbert and Irene assaulting Kimball.
“Thanks, but I need you there at your computer. That’s how you can be of most help to me.”
Again Amanda stretched out in bed, trying to empty her mind of the images racing through her brain. Kimball, Dawson, Kimball, Irene and Herbert, Kimball, her mother and father she might never see again, Kimball…
“Charley?” She spoke his name softly this time, amazed to find she actually wanted him to be there.
“Still here.” He stood at the window, his back to her. “Just checking to see if anybody’s out there.”
“And?”
“I don’t see anybody.”
No reason for Kimball to have her followed now. She was coming to him. “Good,” she said. “Go to sleep.”
“I don’t sleep. I’ll stay here all night and watch over you.”
Good grief. He couldn’t pass up a chance to do the melodrama thing.
That one time, she was glad he was watching.
The only way Amanda knew she’d slept at all was that sometimes the scenes rushing through her mind became surreal. Kimball was ev
il, but he didn’t have horns. She herself did not have twenty-one bullet holes in her chest. Kimball couldn’t fly through the wall into her bedroom the way Charley did. When the sun finally rose, she was glad to get out of bed and stop trying so hard to sleep.
Breakfast was strangely quiet. Though Amanda was certain Penny and Paula didn’t know what was going on, they seemed to sense the tension in the air and were subdued.
The clink of silverware on plates replaced conversation as they ate. Almost simultaneously the twins slid their chairs back, picked up their empty plates and put them in the sink.
“Bye, Mama.” Paula planted a kiss on her mother’s left check while Penny planted one on the right. They completed the ritual by doing the same to their father. Then, to Amanda’s surprise, the girls came over to her and repeated the farewell procedure before dashing out.
When the front door slammed behind the girls, Herbert stood, walked over to his wife and kissed her, then came to Amanda’s side. He placed a comforting hand on one shoulder and leaned over to whisper in her ear. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re here.”
She put their lives in danger, and the family responded with love. Amanda’s heart swelled, and she blinked rapidly to get rid of the excess moisture in her eyes.
Maybe Charley wasn’t really their son. Maybe Irene’s baby had been switched at the hospital, and somewhere in Silver Creek a depraved, psycho couple was raising a kind, loving son who should have gone home with Irene and Herbert.
Dawson called shortly after nine o’clock. She went upstairs to take the call.
“Cardinal Corporation owns a cabin on Silver Lake. Benjamin Montgomery, father of Catherine Montgomery Kimball, owns Cardinal Corporation.”
A chill darted down Amanda’s spine. “That’s it. That’s where he’s going to take me.” That’s where he thinks he’s going to kill me.
“It’s not on the lake. It’s back in the woods. Montgomery’s dad had it built in 1962. He was a big duck hunter. He died in 1980. It’s possible nobody’s been there since then. I didn’t find anything to indicate there are any hunters in that family. Looks like they only do things that make money.”
“I don’t suppose this cabin has a street address one can find on a GPS.”
The Ex Who Wouldn't Die (Charley's Ghost Book 1) Page 23