The Ex Who Glowed in the Dark (Charley's Ghost)

by Berneathy, Sally

  “Really? He’s gone from thinking Dawson’s an alien to wanting to protect him from aliens?”

  Jake shook his head. “I don’t know. He did say Dawson was a prince from Alpha Centauri. It makes about as much sense as anything else in this case. Brendan made himself right at home in Dawson’s apartment, but he’s agoraphobic, never leaves his own place.”

  Amanda frowned. “Never?”

  “I can’t swear to the never part, but he even has groceries delivered.”

  “Groceries and tinfoil.”

  Jake gave a short laugh. “Definitely tinfoil.”

  “So he doesn’t leave his apartment, but he went to Dawson’s place. He must be really determined to save him. Maybe he took a Xanax first.” Amanda glanced at the clock on the dashboard and sighed. “We’re no closer to finding Grant than we were before, are we?”

  “Yes, we are. Cases don’t get solved in real life like they do on TV. Nobody jumps up and confesses. We gather the evidence, one microscopic bit at a time, and those bits pile up until we finally get an answer.”

  “Finally,” Amanda repeated, glancing at the clock again. “I just hope finally comes before they start cutting off Grant’s fingers.”

  Jake flinched. “I wish I could promise you it will.”

  “Not all kidnappings end happily, do they?”

  “No.” His answer was soft, barely audible, but it rang loudly through the car and Amanda’s heart. “Not all kidnappings have happy endings.”

  “What do you do when that happens?”

  He leaned back against the window and faced her, his dark gaze intense. “You steel yourself to tell the family, distance yourself from it, act detached. Then you go home and have nightmares about the victims and their families.”

  Amanda let out a long breath. She hadn’t considered that Jake and Ross might be emotionally vested in this kidnapping, too. “I really appreciate you and Ross helping like this.”

  Jake shrugged. “It’s what we do.”

  “No, you don’t get to minimize what you’re doing. You came as soon as I called, you didn’t make Dawson fill out stupid forms, you and Ross have both put in extra hours. You’ve gone above and beyond, and I appreciate it.”

  “I like Dawson. He seems like a good kid.”

  “He is. I wish this wasn’t happening to him.”

  A silence fell between them, a silence that seemed somehow comfortable and tense at the same time.

  “Well, I guess we’d better get back to work.” Amanda leaned toward Jake as she reached in the back seat for her helmet and jacket.

  He leaned toward her, his face inches from hers, his dark eyes half-closed.

  Time stopped. The sounds of the car’s engine and air conditioner became muffled and far away. The temperature seemed to go up several degrees, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable heat.

  He lifted a hand and laid it gently on the side of her face.

  With no conscious effort on her part, Amanda felt herself leaning closer, her lips only inches away from his.

  “Stop that!” Charley burst from the back seat, shooting through the space between them.

  Amanda gasped, jumped and sat back, her heart racing.

  Charley was going to die. The fact that he was already dead was not going to stop her from killing him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As Amanda rode back to Dawson’s apartment, two very different thoughts kept spinning through her mind.

  Would Jake have kissed her if Charley hadn’t interrupted? She was pretty sure the answer to that was yes. If he had, then what?

  But she’d think about that later when Grant was safe. The other thought was what Jake had said…not all kidnappings have happy endings.

  For the second time that day she rode as fast as possible, trusting Charley to let her know of any speed traps.

  Trusting. That was a word she never thought she’d use in relation to Charley.

  She leaned around a corner, turning down the alley that led to Dawson’s parking lot. A dark mid-size sedan pulled out of the lot and headed her way. Somebody going to the grocery store or out to visit a friend.

  The alley was narrow, and Amanda moved as far over as she could. When the vehicle passed her, she glanced at the driver. The small part of her brain that wasn’t distracted with thoughts of Jake’s kiss and the danger to Grant’s life registered that he seemed vaguely familiar, but she was in the parking lot before she realized who he looked like. She brought the bike to a stop and lifted the faceplate of her helmet.

  “Charley!”

  “I’m right here. You don’t have to shout. I wonder if I’ll lose my hearing when I get old. I don’t think I can wear a hearing aid.”

  “Who was in that car? Am I losing my mind, or did that man look like Brendan with his hair combed and no glasses?”

  Charley frowned. “Not likely. As thick as those lenses are, he’d be blind without them. He wouldn’t be able to drive.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Anyway, Jake said he’s agoraphobic and never leaves his apartment.” She put her kickstand down and prepared to get off the bike but halted midway. “However, he did leave his apartment to go to Dawson’s and insinuate himself into the investigation. That’s what criminals do on TV. Maybe if he takes off the glasses, he can’t see the big world and loses his fears.”

  “I don’t think that’s the way agoraphobia works.”

  “We have to find out if that was him.” She flipped her faceplate down and put the kickstand up.

  “I’m getting a little tired of all this running around everywhere while I—”

  Amanda revved her bike, drowning out Charley’s words of protest, and sped away in the direction the car had taken. She had neither the time nor the patience for a whiny ghost.

  In spite of his whining, Charley cooperated, dashing back and forth, directing her down side streets until they reached I-35E heading north. Amanda had time to begin to feel a little silly. What were the odds that Brendan was in the car they were chasing? She’d only had that one glimpse, and without the thick glasses, it was hard to be certain.

  She wished Charley would go in for a close look and let her know. Maybe he had already. Surely he wouldn’t be continuing to follow the car if it wasn’t Brendan. Or maybe he would just to annoy her. He had been upset over her almost-kiss with Jake, and he’d protested about this latest trek. His current condition prevented him from lying, but maybe he could still be a jerk and drag her all over town on a wild goose chase.

  When they exited onto I-635 going west, she began to doubt her own doubts. This was the route she and Sunny had taken on their ride to Wagon Wheel Park.

  Of course, there were thousands of other possible destinations in that direction.

  Another coincidence?

  When Charley guided her along the same exit she and Sunny had taken, a chill ran down Amanda’s spine and her heart beat accelerated. Things were moving way beyond coincidence. Was Brendan or whoever was in that car heading for the place where person or persons unknown were holding Grant captive?

  What a time to have left her gun at home. For sure she’d have to call Jake and ask for his help this time. Damn! Asking for help just didn’t seem very romantic. Not that there was anything romantic about her relationship with Jake.

  Though he had maybe almost kissed her.

  With every mile Amanda became more certain they were heading for Grant’s kidnappers. He’d come this way to his baseball games, recognized the route and done his best to convey it by making the sign of holding a wheel. Dawson was right. He was a smart, brave kid. Thanks to his ingenious clue, they were going to find him.

  As soon as she got to wherever they were going, she’d call Jake. She wasn’t going to do anything foolish this time. Almost getting killed by Roland Kimball a couple of months before had scared her into being cautious, especially when she was unarmed.

  She glanced down at her console to check her speed and noticed a red light. Low on gas. Double damn!
If she stopped to buy gas, Brendan would get too far ahead of her. She’d lose him. Anyway she probably had twenty miles left in the tank—assuming the light had just then come on. She’d been intent on following Charley and couldn’t remember when she’d last checked.

  She had no choice but to keep following and hope she had enough gas. Walking and pushing a motorcycle while following a speeding car would not work out very well. She always carried her HOG card and knew they’d rescue her, but not fast enough.

  A few miles before they reached the park, they turned down a dirt road. In the dry summer the car ahead left a cloud of dust as easy to follow as Charley.

  They were getting pretty far out in the country. Open fields dotted with mesquite trees and scrub oak stretched as far as she could see. She hoped her cell phone could still get a signal. If it didn’t, she’d have to ride back to civilization and call Jake.

  She looked down at the low gas light. Or maybe she’d walk back to civilization.

  In a mile and a half they turned down another dirt side road. Amanda made mental note of the distance and direction so she could find her way back. No wonder she and Sunny hadn’t been able to find the place. Even if Jake had brought out the search parties, the dogs and the helicopters, this location would have been tough to find.

  The cloud of dust turned onto another road, one so rutted the car slowed to a crawl. This was her chance to make a phone call. At that speed, Brendan wasn’t going to get too far away. She pulled over, yanked off her gloves and fumbled for her cell phone.

  Too late. No signal.

  She extended her arm, held the phone as high as she could above her head and got one bar. One was better than none. She punched in Jake’s number and looked up, praying the signal would hold and that he’d answer.

  Charley appeared in front of her, scowling. “What are you doing? Why did you stop?”

  No sound came from the phone.

  “Hello? Jake? Are you there?”

  “You stopped in the middle of a car chase to call that—that man? What is the matter with you? Don’t you care about finding Dawson’s brother?”

  Amanda peered up at the phone. “Jake!” she shouted. The phone was an arm’s length away and the bright sun obscured her vision, but she knew what had happened even before she lowered it to peer more closely.

  No bars. No signal.

  She shook the phone as if that would somehow make it work.

  “Amanda! Let’s go.” Charley waved one hand in her face, urging her forward.

  “You do electrical stuff. Make this work.” She extended the phone toward him.

  Charley backed up. “I don’t know what to do with a cell phone! It took me two hours to figure out how to turn on a television. We don’t have two hours. Put that up and let’s go. Brendan’s going to get away.”

  “Just try. Touch the phone inside like you touched Dawson’s computer. If that doesn’t work, we’ll go.”

  Charley heaved a long sigh then reached toward the phone. As soon as he touched it, the display came on and flashed through a couple of screens then went to her call history. The phone tried to connect to each one of her calls in order—Jake, her mother, Sunny, her mother, Jake, her mother, her mother—

  It was no use. But Charley seemed to find it entertaining. He continued to move his hands up and down through the phone in some sort of crazy rhythm. “That’s enough, Charley! Stop!”

  Charley withdrew his hands and the phone went back to no signal.

  Amanda considered returning to somewhere she could get a signal, somewhere she could call for assistance. Then she could turn this over to Jake and Ross. Do the sensible thing. Let them go in waving guns and wearing bullet proof vests to rescue Grant.

  But it would take Jake half an hour to get there. Brendan would be long gone by then. Even if she was in the vicinity of the place where they were holding Grant, it could still take days to search the area and find him, and they only had about an hour.

  “Come on,” Charley urged. “The dust is going to settle and we’ll lose him.”

  “Did you get a close look? Do we know for sure it’s Brendan?”

  “I looked through the window. It’s him.”

  She could leave as soon as she knew Brendan’s destination. Go back and call Jake when she had a final location. She shoved the phone into her pocket, slammed her face plate down and pulled on her gloves. “Let’s go.”

  The dust trail was still clearly visible, and Amanda bounced along the rutted road to another turn onto a road that was marginally smoother. Much longer on that washboard road and she’d have cracks in her teeth and bruises on her butt.

  Charley suddenly appeared in front of her, waving his arms frantically.

  She pulled over.

  “He stopped just ahead. You need to go back a little to be sure he can’t see your bike. There’s not much cover around here.”

  Amanda peered down the dusty road. The land was flat and the road fairly straight. She could make out a building a couple of hundred yards ahead. “Is that a house?”

  “It’s an old farmhouse. Looks like it’s abandoned. That beige minivan that was following you and Sunny yesterday is parked there too.”

  Amanda peered more closely. She could see both vehicles. Brendan was dragging a bundle from the passenger side of the back seat of the dark car. Another man came out to help, a man with a shiny bald head, round stomach and skinny legs…the man from the van.

  What were they taking out of the car? A body?

  Of course not. She was being paranoid.

  She focused on the farmhouse with its broken windows and sides so weathered no paint remained. The porch had holes, and the screen door looked rusty and torn. The picture of Grant with the gun to his head could have been taken on that porch or even inside. The ladder back chair could have been abandoned by the last resident.

  It all fit.

  Had she found Grant?

  She flexed her fingers, noting that her hands felt damp inside her gloves.

  Now what? She had to think, be cautious, make the right decision. Grant’s life could depend on what she did next.

  “I’m going back far enough to get a phone signal so I can call Jake.”

  “Amanda! No! We’re here. We need to go in and rescue the boy.”

  “Rescue the boy? We’re not even certain he’s here! What if he isn’t? How are we going to make them tell us where he is? Are you going to threaten them with a cold chill if they don’t tell? Even if he is here, what chance do we have? There are three of them and two of us.” Had she really included Charley? “Three of them, and they’re murderers.”

  “Fine. Be a coward.”

  “I’m trying to be smart. If Grant isn’t here, Jake and Ross will be able to make those people tell where they’re holding him. If he is here, they can rescue him.” Amanda made a U-turn and started back the way she’d come, going as fast as she dared on the dusty road.

  A hundred feet down that road her engine sputtered and died.

  Out of gas.

  Damn, damn, damn!

  She parked the bike, took off her helmet and turned to face Charley. Though she couldn’t see her own face, she was pretty sure she was about as pale as he was at that moment. She licked her dry lips. “I guess we’re on our own.”

  “No problem. We can handle it.”

  Yeah, an unarmed woman and a ghost. They made quite the rescue team. But the only other option was to walk away and abandon any possibility of finding Grant. In the time it would take them to walk back five or six miles to where they could get cell phone reception, call for help, wait for that help to arrive, then return to the house, anything could happen.

  “First we need to find out if he’s here. If he’s not, we need to find out where they’ve got him.” She couldn’t think about what they’d do when they found Grant. One crisis at a time. She looked down the road. Most of the dust had settled. “We’ll have to sneak up on them from behind. If we go stalking down the road, they�
�ll spot us. Well, they’ll spot me.”

  Amanda moved the bike off the road and parked it behind a tree. About as well concealed as a fire engine behind a stop sign, but it was the best she could do. She put her purse, helmet, jacket and gloves behind a big rock and started off across the stubbled field.

  “You sure make a lot of noise in those boots,” Charley complained as Amanda’s steps crunched through the dry grass and weeds.

  “Jealous? Wish you could wear motorcycle boots and make noise?”

  He went along silently after that.

  “Are we still going in the right direction?” Amanda asked after what seemed an eternity of trekking over the uneven ground in the hot sun.

  Charley shot upward, looked around, then came back. “Yep. Just keep going and you’ll come up behind the house.”

  In death Charley was much more helpful than he’d ever been in life. But she refrained from saying so. Maybe later.

  She continued to trudge across the field.

  A blue jay flew overhead and emitted his shrill call of summer sun and heat but somehow the call seemed threatening.

  Finally up ahead she saw the back of the weathered house with several rusty farm implements lying around half-hidden among the tall weeds. The sturdy motorcycle boots might not be the best thing for hiking across fields, but they’d probably save her from some nasty cuts going through that minefield of weeds and metal.

  “Go look,” she whispered to Charley as soon as they were close enough. “See if Grant’s in there.”

  He disappeared into the structure while Amanda squatted in the weeds behind an old plow, about as effectively hidden as her motorcycle.

  Charley came back almost immediately. “Brendan and the two people from the van are in there, but Grant isn’t.”

  Amanda’s heart sank. “That means they’ve either left him somewhere else or he’s on the property but not in the house.”

  “It could also mean they’ve already—”

  “No, they haven’t,” Amanda snapped. She could not face that third possibility. “Grant’s still alive and we’re going to find him.” She looked around. A ramshackle barn sat a couple of hundred feet away. Two sheds and a mound of earth that indicated a storm cellar were closer to the house. “I’ll check the sheds and you check the barn. It’s farther away and you’re faster.”