The Ex Who Wouldn't Die (Charley's Ghost)

by Sally Berneathy

  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?"

  "Make up something," Charley advised.

  "When I find out where Kimball wants to meet me, I'll let you know, and Herbert can come there with, uh, his shotgun. Just be sure to give me enough time to get his full confession." She looked at Charley, who nodded his approval.

  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 said, rising from the table, the weight 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 these stairs to bed?

  Don't even go there! she admonished herself.

  In her bedroom, she changed into her night shirt without even checking the corners for Charley. His seeing her undressed ranked low on her list of things to fear.

  She settled into bed, pulling 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 probably 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 just 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?"

  He appeared standing beside her. "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 have 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, lots of 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 in the family."

  "Okay."

  "I need it in the morning."

  "No problem. Do you want to know what I found out about Sunny Donovan?"

  At this point, Amanda wasn't interested in Sunny Donovan and whatever mess she and Charley had got into, but she didn't want to sound ungrateful. "Yes, of course," she replied.

  "Born in Silver Creek, Texas. Her father was killed in a hunting accident when she was three years old, and her mother never got 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 like 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? Charley was no stranger to blackmail.

  Even as the thought formed, she dismissed it. Her father had nothing to hide. He was the quintessential upright, uptight citizen.

  "Thanks, Dawson," she said. "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," she said quietly. "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 could find her body if anything happened. 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 probably 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, and I've since confirmed that to him, so 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. I could help."

  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 h
is name softly this time, amazed to find she actually wanted him to be there.

  "Still here." She saw him standing at the window. "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 just couldn't pass up a chance to do the drama thing.

  This 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 evil, but he didn't really 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. 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 unusually 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, but 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.

  "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 right 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."

  "That sounds about right. I don't suppose this cabin has a street address one can find on a GPS."

  "No, but I can give you the legal description."

  "I guess that'll have to do."

  As soon as she finished talking to Dawson, Amanda called Detective Daggett. Though she assured herself she had the situation with Kimball under control and could handle it on her own, and though she knew Daggett wasn't going to believe her, she had to try one more time.

  Surely, she thought, Daggett would be in the office at ten thirty on a weekday.

  He wasn't.

  "Can I have him call you?"

  Amanda sighed and gave the receptionist her number. "I need you to give him a message."

  "Go ahead."

  "This is Amanda Randolph. I've spoken with him before about an individual in Silver Creek, Texas. Today I'm meeting with that individual and turning over to him a gun he thinks was used in a murder. Just in case I don't survive this meeting, I want Detective Daggett to know what happened to me." Perhaps the last sentence was a bit melodramatic…or perhaps not. "I don't know where we're meeting, but it may be in an old hunting cabin on Silver Lake. I'd like to give you the legal description. That way, at least maybe he'll be able to find my body."

  She read the description. The woman assured her that Detective Daggett would get her message, and she hung up, feeling very dissatisfied with the results of the call.

  "I don't know why you bothered to call him again," Charley said grumpily. "He's not going to help you. He's not even going to talk to you. Not that it matters. You don't need him. I'm here, and I'm going to take care of you."

  "Like you took care of me while you were alive?"

  "Haven't you ever heard of giving somebody a second chance? Maybe this whole situation is to teach you about forgiveness."

  "You better hope that's not right, or you'll be stuck here forever."

  Amanda started to put her phone in her pocket, but hesitated, suddenly overwhelmed with an urge to call her parents.

  Ridiculous, she told herself. Her dad was working, and her mother was doubtless busy being Beverly Caulfield. Not like she'd never have the chance to talk to them again. She was not going to be murdered tonight.

  Determinedly, she slipped her phone into her pocket and headed downstairs.

  "Would you help me turn the mattresses?" Irene asked when Amanda walked into the living room.

  "Turn…uh…sure. What? Turn the mattresses?"

  "To keep the wear even, I turn the mattresses twice a year."

  Somewhere between turning the mattresses and dusting the jars of canned fruits and vegetables, Amanda decided Irene was creating work to help keep her mind off her impending rendezvous with Kimball.

  All day they turned, dusted, cleaned and cooked, and, in spite of Irene's efforts, Amanda's imagination created an endless litany of potential disastrous scenarios for the evening.

  The cell phone in her pocket remained obdurately silent.

  The twins returned from school, and Herbert came home from work. Dinner was another quiet meal. Amanda dutifully shoved bites of spaghetti into her mouth, chewed and swallowed. She had no doubt the food was delicious, but on this night it tasted like cardboard and was just as difficult to chew and swallow.

  After dinner, Paula and Penny went upstairs to do their homework, and Irene, Herbert, Amanda and Charley settled in the living room to watch television. Though the TV was sometimes on during the evenings, it rarely received the complete attention of four people. Well, three people and one ghost.

  Herbert and Irene exchanged a few remarks about their day. Amanda could not summon the energy to attempt any sort of conversation.

  The windows were dark, the TV the only light in the room when her cell phone finally rang. Irene gave a small shriek and half rose from the sofa. Beside her Herbert's gaze moved from the TV screen to Amanda.

  She pulled the phone from her pocket and looked at the display. "It's him."

  "This is it, Babe. Showtime," Charley said. He didn't sound stressed at all. He sounded excited.

  "Hello?" Was that really her voice, that squeaky, high-pitched sound?

  "Are you ready for our meeting, Amanda?"

  "Waiting with bated breath for you to say when and where."

  "The when is soon. As to the where, I'll let you know. You need to get on that motorcycle of yours and go downtown. When you get there, stop in front of the courthouse and call this number. I'll give you further directions at that time."

  Amanda didn't like the sound of that. Kimball was taking all possible precautions to be sure she came alone and that nobody knew where she was going.

  "Oh, good grief," she bluffed. "We're not going on a scavenger hunt. We're supposed to be two adults meeting for mutually profitable business reasons."

  "We're playing by my rules. I'll tell you where when you need to know."

  The man's arrogance continually amazed her. "Excuse me? Your rules? I'd say you have more to gain from this meeting than I do so we're not playing by your rules. Tell me where to meet you, or forget the whole thing."

  "Are you sure about who has the most to gain? You have an item I may or may not want, while I have the power to make your life and the lives o
f your family and friends easy or difficult."

  There he went again, boasting about his stinking power. Threatening her and Herbert and Irene. Amanda no longer felt exhausted and drained from the day's tension. This arrogant piece of dung had to be stopped. All her fantasies of doing away with Charley paled next to what she wanted to do to Kimball.

  "With that much power at your command, you should be able to designate a meeting place and share that information with me without the slightest concern of interference."