The Ex Who Wouldn't Die (4 page)

"No, she had a charity luncheon where she had to give a speech, and you know how much everybody depends on her. She's been very worried about you, but I told her I'd take good care of you." Jenny fidgeted in the plastic-covered chair beside the bed.

"I understand. She would have hated being here when I was unconscious and couldn't hear her criticisms. On the other hand, I couldn't have argued with her, either. She may have just missed her big chance."

"Oh
, Amanda! You know how much Mother
loves you! We all do! But we just don't understand you, especially about—oh, dear! Daddy said we couldn't talk about him!"

"We can't talk about Dad?" Amanda asked, the misinterpretation deliberate.

"No! We can't talk about…" she lowered her voice to a whisper…"Charley!"

"Like we'd even want to."

"Well, well, well!" boomed a deep, resonant voice followed by Emerson Caulfield's entrance into the room. "My little girl's a
wake.
" Emerson was an average-size man, but he always loomed as large as his voice. His full head of steel-gray hair, his penetrating brown gaze and
immaculate dark suit
completed his imposing courtroom presence no matter where he was, even in a hospital room.

As he moved to give each girl a perfunctory peck on the cheek, Amanda noticed the taller, younger man who'd come into the room behind her father. Brian Edwards, an associate from her father's old law firm
,
was a younger, taller version of her father.

They all exchanged greetings, and Amanda studied Brian, a little curious about his presence in her hospital room. He was
handling her divorce, but they weren't buddies. He wasn't on her birthday party list or her hospital room list.

Brian
stood quietly, deferentially, to the left and slightly behind her father. Though he seemed as imperturbable as always, Amanda sensed something wasn't right. His erect posture bordered on rigid.
He clutched his briefcase with a white-knuckled hand.

Had Charley filed a new motion of some sort, something so bizarre her father felt the need to bring her attorney to her even as she lay in bed tethered to an IV?

After the standard questions about
Amanda
's well-being,
Emerson
requested that
Jenny
leave the room, close the door and be certain n
obody entered. She
, of course, obeyed immediately, pausing only to look back and give
Amanda
a perky smile.

Amanda wasn't sure what was going on, but she was pretty sure she wasn't going to like it. "Is this about Charley?"

The two men exchanged glances. "Yes," Emerson replied, his dark gaze softening. In spite of her status as black sheep of the family, Amanda knew her father loved her and would always be there for her, no matter how much he might disapprove of her actions. Sometimes she wondered if he might even envy her freedom…just a little bit…once in a while. "
Mandy
, whatever happened, we'll fix it."

Amanda frowned. "Fix it?
" Damn! Was he planning to bail Charley out again?
"
Don't you think we're a little past fixing every little problem for Charley? Have you ever heard of the concept of
actions have consequences
?"

Her father looked uncomfortable, not a normal state for him. "Of course they do, but sometimes there's a question as to what those consequences should be. When you feel up to it, I'll go with you to the police station, but if anything should come of this…and I'm quite certain it won't…we need to have Brian involved from the beginning."

Amanda groaned. "So Charley's in jail. Did he do something to my bike? I just can't believe he would want to hurt me. Physically, I mean."

Again the men exchanged worried glances.

Emerson moved forward and took his daughter's hand in his. "Mandy,
sweetheart
, Charley's not in jail. He
'
s dead."

"What?!" Amanda half rose from the bed, then fell back with a grimace of pain. Charley couldn't be dead! He was a lot of things, most of them bad, but everything about him was alive and vibrant! She couldn
'
t imagine him any other way. "Dead?" she repeated. Well, that
would explain
why he hadn't come to stalk her in the hospital! "Are you sure? What happened? I didn
'
t even know he was sick! Did he overdose on something?"

Her father looked down, refusing to meet her gaze, and drew in a deep breath. "Somebody entered the apartment, apparently somebody he knew since there was no sign of a break-in, and shot him."

"Omigawd! Was it a robbery?" Not that Charley had anything to steal afte
r so many
visits to the pawn shop. More likely a jealous husband.

Emerson shook his head. "They don
'
t think so. Nothing seemed to be missing."

"The gun," Amanda whispered, guilt suddenly washing over her.

"What gun?" her father asked.

"Charley called me and wanted me to bring him that gun he bought me. Said he'd sign the divorce papers if I would.
I went to his apartment, but I didn't take the gun. I thought he wanted to sell it or hold up a liquor store or something awful. But maybe he wanted it to defend himself."

She looked at her father, hoping he'd say something to relieve her feelings of guilt.

Instead, he and Brian exchanged glances. "You didn't take the gun with you? Where is it?"

"Home in a box in the back of my closet, where it's been since he gave it to me."
Amanda felt her eyes fill with unexpected tears. "I wanted him out of my life, but I didn't want him dead." Okay, maybe she'd tho
ught of making him dead
a few times,
had fantasized about things like
stripping him naked, tying his hands and feet, pouring honey on him and leaving him on a fire ant hill in west Texas in the middle of August or beating him with a black jack wrapped in barbed wire then squirting acid on him at thirty-second intervals for a few hours
. B
ut those were just
pleasant fantasies
, on a level with dreaming about winning the lottery
. "He saved my life," she said quietly.

Her father's gaze sharpened. "What do you mean, he saved your life?"

"The accide
nt. I passed out somewhere
down the
side of the
mountain. Charley found me and wouldn't let me go back to sleep. He forced me to crawl up that mountain to the highway so somebody could find me.
"
It was the truth…refined and honed, perhaps, omitting the ugly part about his refusing to actually help her. He had, nevertheless, forced her to help herself.

Her eyes overflowed, and a tear trickled down each cheek.
She felt quite benevolent at being able to remember Charley in a good light.
"No matter what he did in the past, I'll have that as my last memory of him."

"Amanda, that's not possible. Charley's body was found at
nine o'clock
Sunday evening with time of death approximately three hours earlier
. You were picked up just after
eight o'clock
Sunday evening in Oklahoma, and the motorist said he saw you stagger onto the highway and fall…alone.
"

Amanda stared at him for a long moment, trying to comprehend and make sense of her father
'
s words.
"
What are you saying? Charley died two hours before my accident? That
'
s not possible.
Charley was there. I saw him. I fell down the side of the mountain and he was there. He was rude and mean, but he made me crawl up the side of that mountain. He taunted me until I did it. If he hadn
'
t be
en there, I would have lain
down, gone to sleep and died.
The last thing I remember is reaching the highway, and he was still there.
"

Her father shook his head. "I'm sorry
, Mandy
.
It was ju
st a dream.
Sometimes when people are involved in traumatic accidents, they have strange dreams.
"

"You mean
hallucinat
ion
s
. Great. Other people
see bright lights or angels. I
could have died, and all I
saw
was
my ex-husband."

You almost died.
He tried to kill you.
He'll try again.
You're in danger.

She gasped and struggled to sit up as the memory of Charley's last words hit her. "He said somebody tried to kill me!"

Her father
'
s brow creased with concern. He took Amanda
'
s hand
. "
Sweetheart, i
t was a dream.
Charley
wasn't
there. He was already dead."

O
f course he
wasn't there
. He hadn
'
t saved her life.
He hadn't warned her she was in danger. Just a dream. The last time she saw him w
as their violent argument
at his apartment
.
She hadn't brought him the gun that might have saved his life
, and h
e'd been angry.
She
'
d shouted that she hated him, and he
'
d told her to go away.
That was her last
memory of
Charley.

She
lay back on the pillow and
turned her
face
to the side.
"I guess," she agreed, suddenly too depressed to argue
about it
.

Her father
, still holding her hand,
took another deep breath and again looked uncomfortable. "Someone saw you race away from Charley's place on your motorcycle around
five thirty
Sunday afternoon. The police want to question you."