The Ex Who Wouldn't Die (50 page)

"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 of 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
."

"You have a bad habit of running your mouth when you shouldn't, and we don't need anyone at this meeting but you and me."

He wasn't going to tell her. "Fine," she replied. "If you're that terrified of my friends, I'll humor you." She hung up, determined to have the last word, even if that word was ineffectual.

She looked up to see Irene and Herbert sitting on the edge of the sofa. His arm was around her shoulders, holding her close. They were both watching Amanda intently. She forced a smile to her lips. "Game on."

"Where are you meeting him?" Irene asked.

"He wouldn't say. I'm to go downtown, then call him, and he'll tell me where."

"I don't like this," Herbert said.

"It's a minor concession."

"No, it's not minor. If we don't know where you are, we can't get there to help you."

"I'll call you as soon as I find out. In the meantime, don't worry. Remember, I have a loaded gun, and I know how to use it." She lifted her cell phone. "And a recorder. I'll get his confession, you'll get to see him on trial, sentenced to death and then given the shot."

Herbert and Irene exchanged worried glances.

"Let's go!" Charley said. He seemed delighted with the evening's prospect of adventure.

No need to fear for your life if you're already dead. Amanda, however, was still alive.

So far.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Amanda brought her Harley to a stop in front of the Silver Creek courthouse. The moon had not yet risen. Only the faint light of the stars and a few street lights relieved the total darkness. Familiar trees and buildings lurked as mysterious shadows. The streets and sidewalks were deserted. Only Billy Earl's Roadhouse showed signs of life with its neon words flashing, lending eerie colors to the white columns and steps of the courthouse.

And things were only going to get
more eerie
, Amanda thought as she pulled off her helmet and gloves then reached into her inside jacket pocket for her cell phone. Her fingers passed over the small rectangle and continued, searching for and finding the hard metal of the gun and a hammer in another pocket. She'd added the hammer at the last minute. Maybe it wasn't as effective as a gun, but it made her feel more secure. Couldn't hurt to have a backup weapon.

Reassured by touching the objects, knowing they were still there, she took out her phone and turned on the display. In the darkness, the screen glowed like a spotlight. If Kimball had lured her here to kill her, this should make her an easy target. Not that a woman on a motorcycle, even in this low light, presented a difficult target.

"Do it, Babe," Charley encouraged, moving close. "Call him. You've got a gun, a hammer and me. We're ready for His Honor,
T
he
M
urderer."

Amanda refrained from pointing out that it was easy for him to be ready. What could Kimball do to
a ghost
?

She drew in a deep breath, straightened and sat erect on her bike. Locating Kimball's incoming call on her phone, she hit the icon to
return that call
.

His phone rang five times. Was he not going to answer? Had this all been a sick head game? Was he even now sighting in on her, preparing to shoot her?

She
looked around the square, half expecting to see Kimball lurking in the shadows. Billy Earl's sign flashed, splashing red light over her, and for a moment, she imagined a red spot on her chest, a laser sight from a gun.

"Amanda, how good of you to call."

The sound of his oily voice made her sit even straighter, turned her anxiety to resolution. Her jaw clenched. "
Roland
, you're so irresistible, I simply couldn't wait to see you."

Kimball ignored the sarcasm. Actually, he was probably just ignoring her completely, treating her as the unimportant peon he considered her to be. "When you see a black
Cadillac
turn the corner, follow me."

"I'll be right on your tail."

"Turn off your cell phone."

"Why? Are you afraid the signal will interfere with your navigation equipment
in that hearse you drive
?"

"We don't want to take the chance that anybody's tracking you."

"Don't do it!" Charley advised.

"No problem," Amanda replied to Kimball. "I wouldn't want anybody to know I'm hanging out with a guy like you, anyway. It would ruin my reputation."

She disconnected the call.

Charley looked at her in alarm. "If you turn off your phone, you won't be able to record his confession!"

Amanda gave him a withering glance. "Of course I didn't turn it off. Have you forgotten all the times you ordered me to do something, and I let you think I was going to do it just to shut you up?"

Charley considered that, his forehead wrinkling. Before he could respond, Kimball's
Cadillac
rounded the corner.

Amanda shoved her helmet onto her head and her hands into her gloves. The bike roared to life, and she took off after Kimball.

He drove slowly, twisting and turning through the streets of Silver Creek, residential as well as downtown.
Trying to be sure they weren't being followed
?

It was a pleasant night, but Amanda failed to enjoy the leisurely ride. She wanted to get to wherever they were going, wanted to confront this evil man, wanted to get this over with. She was tired of living in fear, checking her bike every morning before she dared to ride it, looking over her shoulder and out her bedroom window for prying eyes. Much as she liked staying with the Randolphs, she wanted to be able to go home without worrying about being arrested. And she wanted to know that Irene and Herbert weren't in danger from dirt bag Kimball.

After driving in circles for fifteen minutes, Kimball turned into the woods surrounding the lake. Ice crystals stabbed through Amanda's veins as she followed the demonic black
Cadillac
along a single lane dirt road. Judging from the amount of grass and weeds growing in the middle, few people came this way.