The Ex Who Wouldn't Die (Charley's Ghost Book 1)

by Sally Berneathy

  “Are you saying Dianne enjoyed herself the night you two killed that homeless man?”

  Kimball’s eyes turned to bottomless pits where not even the lantern light reflected.

  “She didn’t enjoy it, did she?” Amanda pursued, terrified and encouraged by Kimball’s reaction. “She refused to take part. She thought you were a sick, evil man. That’s when she broke up with you. Never wanted to see a disgusting man like you ever again.”

  Kimball moved toward her. “Give me the gun.” His words held a faint echo, as if they’d been dredged up from the depths of hell.

  Amanda stepped away from him, backing into the wall. She couldn’t get any farther away. He stood inches from her. His garlicky breath blew hot on her face.

  “Back off,” she ordered. “Did nobody ever tell you not to eat garlic or onions before a close encounter?”

  “Give me the gun.”

  The situation was getting out of control. She brought the gun from behind her back and pointed it at him, inches from his stomach. “I said, back off. This gun is loaded, and I’m not soft like Dianne. I wouldn’t have any problem killing you. In fact, I’d enjoy it.”

  Her father had impressed on her that she should never point a gun at anyone unless she was ready to kill that person. Tonight was the first time she’d known she could do that, kill a human being. Well, she wasn’t sure Kimball qualified as a human being.

  “After all you’ve done to me,” she continued when he said nothing, “I’d take great pleasure in emptying this gun into your gut and then, if you’re still breathing, I’ll happily pistol whip that smirk off your face and through the back of your skull.”

  “Give. Me. The. Gun.”

  “I will if you back off and get out of my face.”

  With surprising speed and dexterity, Kimball grabbed the hand that held the gun.

  “Watch out, Amanda!” Charley’s warning came a little late.

  Panicked, Amanda squeezed the trigger, but Kimball pushed her hand sideways and the bullet went harmlessly through the opposite wall.

  “Bitch!” He twisted her wrist with one hand while trying to wrest the gun from her with the other.

  Amanda struggled to keep the gun, clawing at his fingers with her free hand.

  “Leave her alone!” Charley dove between the two of them, pummeling Kimball. At least, Amanda assumed that’s what he was trying to do. His hands passed through the man.

  Charley must have made some impact, though, because Kimball looked startled and momentarily loosed his grip on her wrist.

  Amanda yanked her arm free and tried to aim the gun at Kimball again. He recovered and slammed her against the wall, his body holding her in place. Charley appeared behind him, wrapping an arm around and through his neck. Again Kimball looked startled but did not release his grip on Amanda. She squirmed but was pressed so tightly between him and the wall, she couldn’t move. She hung on to the gun, but he twisted her wrist until her fingers loosened their grip. He yanked the gun away from her.

  From the corner of her eye, she could see Charley futilely trying to grab the weapon from Kimball.

  Finally Kimball stepped away, shoved her against the wall and pointed the revolver toward her. “Now,” he said. “Take off your jacket and hand it to me.”

  “Don’t do it!” Charley exclaimed, still grappling for the gun. The only evidence that he had any effect was when Kimball shuddered and brushed that hand as if brushing off a spider.

  Charley was trying. She grudgingly gave him credit for that. But essentially she was alone in a tumble down cabin in the middle of nowhere with a murderer. Not exactly the way she had planned for the evening to go.

  “What choice do I have?” Amanda asked of Charley, her words quiet and dispirited.

  “None,” Kimball responded. “The coat.”

  She hugged the jacket more closely. “Why? You’ve got the gun. Our deal is finished.” She edged toward the door, hoping he’d let her go, hoping she could escape with her life and her recording. Though Kimball had not made a confession, surely she had enough to convince the cops to investigate him.

  He moved with her, the gun still pointing toward her.

  “Give me the jacket. As soon as I check the pockets, you can have it back.”

  Damn. She’d be lucky to get out of there with her life. It seemed there was no chance she’d get away with her recording.

  Slowly she unzipped her jacket. Maybe she could grab the hammer.

  And then what?

  Gun trumps hammer. He could shoot her from across the room while she had to get up close and personal in order to beat his brains out with a claw hammer.

  Nevertheless, after slipping one arm out of the jacket, she reached inside with that hand and closed her fingers over the handle of the hammer. She slid her other arm from the sleeve, yanked out the hammer and tossed the jacket into Kimball’s face. The gun exploded, the bullet screaming past her head and slamming into the wall behind her.

  She surged forward, throwing herself at Kimball, swinging the hammer toward the hand holding the gun. She struck him a glancing blow, not enough to crack a bone but enough that he dropped the revolver and cursed.

  Her jacket slid to the floor between them as he grabbed her with one arm. She swung the hammer wildly, trying to connect with some body part, any body part. But Kimball wrapped his arm around her neck and twisted her so her back was pressed against him.

  “Lift the jacket with your foot,” he growled, his mouth against her ear.

  When she didn’t respond immediately, he tightened his grip on her throat. Amanda was choking.

  “I’m trying!” Charley said, standing in front of her, his fingers of cold air on her neck telling her he was doing all he could to dislodge Kimball’s arm.

  Amanda slid her foot under the jacket and lifted it a couple of feet off the floor.

  “Drop the damn hammer and get it.”

  Amanda reached down, snagging the jacket with the claw end of the hammer and lifting it.

  Kimball took the leather coat. “Now drop the hammer.” His arm tightened around her throat.

  She dropped the hammer. It fell to the floor with a thud of despair.

  He fumbled with her jacket, feeling inside the pockets until he found the cell phone.

  Lifting it with his free hand so both he and Amanda could see the recording icon, he laughed. “I knew it. I knew you’d do something dumb.” He tossed it to the floor and ground his heel into it. “Okay, smart bitch, now that you’re not recording anything, you still want to know about Dianne?”

  Amanda tried to squeak out that she could care less about Dianne at the moment, but Kimball squeezed her throat so tight she was unable to speak.

  Charley paced back and forth in front of them. “Don’t let him tell you. If he tells you, he’ll have to kill you.”

  “Does anybody else know about the homeless man?”

  “Tell him no!”

  Amanda tried to shake her head, but her movement was constrained. “No,” she croaked.

  Kimball’s grip relaxed a little.

  “He’s smiling!” Charley said. “That crazy man is smiling while he’s killing you!”

  “Killing that man was fun,” Kimball said, the tone of his voice confirming that he was, indeed, smiling. “We were stoned. Yeah, Saint Dianne did drugs. She did anything I told her to, except she didn’t want to kill that worthless old man. She freaked out on me that night. Then she got religion. Married that wimp Carter and convinced the whole town she was pure as the virgin snow.”

  His arm around her neck tightened again. Amanda’s fingers flew to her throat, trying to pry him loose.

  “Be still. You wanted to know all this so badly, pay attention. Things were fine until a couple of years ago when she got on a guilt trip. Wanted to confess her sins. Wanted to tell the world we killed somebody. Take her punishment.”

  “What do you care?” Amanda croaked. “Your family owns the town.”

  “Sure, I co
uld have kept it from ever going to court. But that bitch I’m married to would have freaked, and so would my old man. They’re no saints, but they want everybody to think the whole family is. They sit there on their money like they own me. They’d never have supported me as governor if Saint Bitch had talked. So I shot her. And everything would have been fine if your worthless husband hadn’t found this gun.”

  “I’ll get help!” Charley shouted and disappeared through the wall.

  Amanda would have liked to make a sarcastic comment, but he was already gone and she could barely talk anyway.

  “Are you going to shoot me like you shot her?” she asked Kimball.

  “No. I don’t want the two deaths linked. I’ve had time to think and plan this time. You’re going to be easy. Thanks to your habit of riding around town on that motorcycle, nobody’s going to be surprised when you end up in a fatal crash, out riding the rough roads around the lake. Run the bike into the trees, throw you down beside it. A broken neck will seem like part of the crash injuries, assuming they ever find your motorcycle or your body out here. This would have been a lot easier if you’d died the first time.”

  Anger blended with Amanda’s fear. “You admit you jacked with my bike!”

  “Your husband wasn’t very smart. He told me you were taking a long trip. With my connections, it was easy to find out the details. Getting into your bike shop the night before was easy, almost as easy as getting into your apartment. I figured you’d be up in those mountains by the time you lost all the brake fluid and your tire came loose.”

  “But I didn’t die. Did that tick you off, having your plans ruined. I’m the loose end, aren’t I? You thought I’d die and be blamed for Charley’s murder, but I’m still alive.”

  “Not for long. Yes, you would have been blamed for his death. You are being blamed. I wore motorcycle gear so everybody would think I was you. Then you came over, and that made it even better. Everything would have been perfect if you’d just died like you were supposed to. You’d be dead, Charley would be dead, you’d be blamed for his death, and I’d be the next governor of Texas.”

  He tightened his arm around her neck. Amanda couldn’t breathe. She was going to die after all. She thought of her mother and her father, of Herbert and Irene, and she felt tears in her eyes at the thought of never seeing them again. Even worse, she’d soon be on the same plane as Charley. Surely if they were both dead, they would no longer be married. Surely she wouldn’t be stuck with him forever.

  Suddenly Charley came through the wall again, smiling, exultant. “Don’t worry, Amanda! Your mother’s here! And she’s got a gun!”

  Her mother? Out here? The oxygen deprivation must be getting to her. She couldn’t conceive of her meticulous mother, every hair in place, tripping through the rough terrain in a pair of thousand dollar heels, carrying one of the guns she deplored.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Omigawd!” Charley shouted. “He’s going to kill you before she gets here!” His cold fingers brushed her throat as he tried ineffectually to pry Kimball’s arm from her neck. Blackness crept around the edges of her brain.

  “Amanda! Lift your right foot and shove your heel against his knee!”

  The blackness edged closer, making Charley’s words only a muffled noise.

  “Amanda! Suck it up! Stop letting this creep have the upper hand! You never let me! You like him better than me?”

  If that wasn’t just like Charley. She was dying, and he was trying to start an argument.

  “Lift your right foot!” he repeated. “Shove your heel against his knee! I’m not going to shut up until you do!”

  Wearily Amanda lifted her right foot.

  “Hard!” Charley demanded. “Push as hard as you can!”

  Mouthy Charley. Amanda lifted her heel to Kimball’s knee and pushed.

  “Hard!”

  One final push, and she’d give herself to the blackness, stop fighting it.

  Abruptly the pressure around her neck released and somebody screamed. She fell to her knees, gasping and coughing.

  The screaming turned to cursing.

  “Amanda! Over here! Get over here, away from the window!”

  Amanda didn’t want to go anywhere. Her throat hurt. She couldn’t stop coughing.

  Somebody pushed against her, grabbed her shoulder.

  Couldn’t be Charley. Had to be Kimball.

  She jerked her shoulder away and rolled to the side.

  “Good girl!” Charley applauded.

  Good girl? Like he was training a dog? She struggled to her feet and fell toward him. As soon as she got her strength back, she’d strangle him.

  A shot exploded through the open window.

  “Don’t move, Mayor Kimball.” The voice was familiar, soft-spoken but firm. When she had time to think, she was sure she’d recognize it.

  “That bitch tried to break my knee,” Kimball said.

  The front door flew open. “I’ll break more than that if you move one muscle.” Herbert stood in the open doorway, a shotgun leveled at Kimball. Irene appeared from behind him, pushing through the door and coming toward her.

  “Stand down! Everybody drop your guns! Police!”

  She was definitely hallucinating from oxygen deprivation. Detective Daggett and two uniformed cops could not be coming through the doorway.

  Another figure came in behind them. “That’s my daughter! Get out of the way!”

  “Daddy?” Amanda tried to push to her feet. Her father’s arms surrounded her, holding her up.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I guess. What are you doing here?”

  “On your feet.” Daggett stood over Kimball, his gun aimed at the man’s head.

  “I can’t. That damn bitch broke my knee.”

  “Then you better figure out how to crawl.”

  “We were so scared.” Irene wrapped an arm around her on the side opposite her father.

  “I was afraid we’d lost you when you set off through the woods.” Herbert held his shotgun pointed toward the ground.

  “You followed me?”

  Herbert shrugged and grinned shyly. “Yeah. It was hard to keep up when you all were going round and round the town, and then I had to track you through the woods. That part was easier. Been hunting these woods all my life. Reckon those skills came in handy tonight.”

  Two uniformed cops from the Silver Creek force dragged Kimball through the door, and Daggett came over to her.

  “Are you okay? You probably ought to go to the hospital to get checked out.”

  Amanda shook her head. “No.” The word hurt as it came up her sore throat. She coughed twice and tried again. “No. I’m okay. What are you doing here? You didn’t believe me. You wouldn’t take my calls.”

  Daggett raised his eyebrows. “I never said I didn’t believe you. If I’d taken all your calls, I wouldn’t have had time to do any work and track down this scum.”

  “You did believe me?”

  Daggett shrugged. “Your story was a little strange, but I’ve heard stranger. My gut told me you didn’t kill your husband, and that meant somebody else did it. After all you told me, I had to check into this guy’s background.”

  Anger sent adrenalin surging through Amanda, masking her pain and giving her energy. “You could have made my life a lot easier if you’d bothered to share that with me!”

  “I never discuss an ongoing case.”

  Amanda glared at him. “But I guess you’re going to want me to discuss your ongoing case when you take that monster to trial.”

  Daggett grinned crookedly. “I figured you’d be downright eager.”

  “You got that right. I was trying to record his confession since there’s no evidence, but he smashed my cell phone.”

  “No problem. Your lawyer friend got it all.” He nodded toward the window.

  Amanda looked in that direction. The moon had risen, and she could see Sunny Donovan quite clearly, standing outside looking in, clutching a Glock
. With her other hand she lifted a small metallic device and smiled. Good grief. The whole town of Silver Creek was there along with part of Dallas.

  “Sunny? What are you doing here?”

  Sunny looked sheepish. “Keeping track of you, but after you spotted Frank following you—”

  “Frank? The man Kimball hired to spy on me?” Had Sunny and Kimball been working together after all?

  “Kimball didn’t hire Frank. Frank followed you as a favor to me. But he’s not very good at it. After you caught him, I had to figure out something else. Remember when I rode your bike? I palmed a couple of tracking devices from my desk drawer and put one on your bike then another in the lining of your jacket.”

  Amanda recalled the day in Sunny’s office when she’d fumbled in her desk drawer for a long time before finally producing a card.

  “Why?” she asked. “Why were you tracking me?”

  “I knew you were headed for trouble.”

  “Good thing she did,” Daggett said. “I almost didn’t find you with that legal description you left for me. That’s about five miles from here, cross-country.”

  “We found him wandering around, lost as a goose in a snowstorm,” Irene said. “Hadn’t been for Herbert being able to track so good he can follow a squirrel through the treetops, he wouldn’t have found you.”

  “She’s right,” Daggett admitted. “Those shots got us in the right vicinity, but Mr. Randolph took us the rest of the way. You are one lucky lady to have so many people looking out for you.”

  “And me,” Charley added. “I’m looking out for you too.” Amanda’s attention snapped to him. “Yeah, I’m still here. Guess our business isn’t finished yet.” She could tell from the guilty look on his face that he knew exactly what other business remained. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  Seeing Charley reminded her of his strange announcement that her mother was there with a gun.

  “Where’s Mother?” Amanda asked.

  “Waiting in the car,” her father answered. “You don’t think she was going to walk through the wilderness in her best heels?”