Dub picked up his beer and took a long swig from it, then wiped his mouth with
the back of
his hand. "He's slime. My brother went to school with him. Said he was sneaky. Me and Charley, we did a lot of stuff we probably shouldn't have, but we
if we
got caught
, we took the blame. O
r nobody ever knew we'd done it, like Miss Dunigan's thong. Roland Kimball, he'd always manage to put the blame on somebody else. When he did get caught, like after he started dating Dianne
Carter
and he slashed
Jerry
Stewart
's tires…that's her old boyfriend. Everybody knew he did it, but his old man slipped
Jerry
's family some money, and—" Dub waved a hand— "everything went away."
"So he didn't really clean up his act when he started dating Dianne."
"Nah. He just got sneakier. Dianne was a classy lady. She deserved better than him." Suddenly he sat straighter. "You think he killed her, too?"
Amanda lifted both hands, palms out. "I can't say."
Dub's eyes narrowed. "He did, didn't he? That sorry son of a bitch. Why'd he do it? Why would anybody kill Dianne? I can see why he might have had reason to kill Charley—"
"Hey!" Charley protested.
"—but Dianne," Dub continued, unaware of his friend's protest, "she never hurt nobody. Never did anything bad."
Amazing how easily this man accepted that the town mayor was a killer. At Charley's funeral, Irene had said Kimball gave her the creeps.
Greg Carter hadn't been surprised that she at the idea that Kimball had been involved in his wife's death. Apparently those who knew the man well
knew his evil nature. "Yes, Charley did something to Kimball that caused him to want Charley dead. I don't know why he killed Dianne, but I'm certain he did."
Dub lit another cigarette and puffed quietly for a couple of minutes. Charley waved irritably but ineffectually at the smoke as it
floated lazily
through him. "That's a bad habit you've got there, Dub," he said. "It's going to kill you if you don't quit, and this death thing isn't all it's cracked up to be."
"That tight-ass wife of his," Dub said, ignoring Charley's admonition, tapping his ash into the overflowing ashtray.
"What?"
"Probably made him do it because she was jealous."
Amanda thought of the meek-looking blonde woman she'd seen at Kimball's house. "Catherine? Short blonde? That wife?"
"You know her?"
"I've seen her once. She seemed pretty subdued, even a little subservient to her husband."
Dub snorted. "You bought into that Miss Priss act? She's a cold one, that woman. Her
daddy's got more money than Bill Gates
. Him and old man Kimball set up that marriage so they could keep Roland under control. He's a loose cannon. Gets in too much trouble on his own.
You be careful. Between his daddy and his wife, Roland Kimball's got a lot of money on his side, and money is power."
"I know. So you can see why I need that gun. Will you get it for me?"
"Least I can do for Charley's widow. Meet me back here tomorrow night. I'll get you a good one."
"Smith and Wesson .38 Chiefs Special, blue."
Dub frowned. "I can get you a gun easy enough, but if it has to be a certain one, this may take longer. There's other guns out there that kill just as good as a Smith and Wesson."
"I realize that, and I hate to be picky, but it has to be a Smith and Wesson .38 Chiefs Special, blue." She hesitated, then continued. "It's for more than protection. It's part of my plan to expose Kimball."
"
Our
plan," Charley corrected.
"May take more than a day or two."
"I need it as soon as you can get it."
"I'll do my best."
She wrote her phone number on a napkin, thanked Dub and chugged her Coke. Picking up her helmet and gloves, she left the bar, amazed at how fresh the night air smelled when they got outside.
"You said we could get a gun tonight," she accused. "Dub said it could take more than a day or two."
Charley shrugged. "Well, since it's a special order. But don't worry. He'll get it fast. Dub's a good guy."
Amanda reached her bike and shoved her helmet onto her head. "
Let's just hope he gets it before Kimball gets to me."
She tugged her chin strap tight and snapped it in place, then climbed onto her Harley. The roar of the bike's engine in the still night air gave her a sense of security in a world where nothing seemed secure anymore.
As she rode through the warm summer night, she constantly search
ed
the roadside shadows and tried
to distinguish the faces in oncoming cars.
This time she knew she was not being paranoid. Someone had been outside last night. Kimball was following her.
Charley
appeared to be
making
an
effort to
look out for her. At least, that's what she assumed he was doing,
darting
back and forth in front of her, obstructing her view.
When she pulled into the Randolphs' yard and parked her bike, he stood directly in front of her, waving his arms frantically. She
yanked
off her helmet. "What is up with you? Do you have any idea how annoying that was, not to mention dangerous? I need to be able to see where I'm going."
"I've been trying to tell you, somebody followed you!"
Amanda's stomach clenched, and suddenly she felt cold even wearing a leather jacket in the summer heat. "Who?"
"I don't know." Charley glared at her. "He stayed far enough back, I couldn't see him up close, and you wouldn't stop so I could get closer!"
"
Are you positive
he was following me and not just going the same way?" she asked, grasping for any explanation other than
the creepy idea of
somebody following her.
Even though she'd suspected it, actually knowing sent chills up her spine.
"Yeah, coincidentally somebody
that
was parked
in the trees at the Shade Tree
left right behind you, and headed directly for my parents' house, but decided to pull off the road and park a couple of hundred yards back."
Amanda swallowed around the huge lump in her throat. "He…parked?"
"Yeah. Just down the road. Probably so he can sneak through the trees and spy on you again tonight."
"Thank you for being so comforting," she snapped, her fear increasing her irritability.
"If you would have stopped when I tried to get you to stop, we could have confronted him."
"And then what? Shoot him with the gun I don't have? Or maybe you could have punched him in the nose."
"Don't you think it might be important to know who's following you?"
"Not Kimball?"
"Not his
Cadillac
. This car's an old Pontiac."
Had Kimball hired somebody to follow her? She found that easier to believe than the possibility that His Arrogance, the mayor, would
want to be
seen driving an older, inexpensive car.
She drew in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. "Then let's go see who's in that car."
"Let's go," Charley agreed. "And don't worry. I've got your back."
"Great. That's so reassuring." She swung off her bike, stuffed her gloves in her helmet and secured it on the handlebars. "Think your folks have got a hammer somewhere close?"
"Probably one in the shed behind the house."
"I'd fee
l a lot better if I had a weapon of some sort
."
The shed was unlocked, and Amanda selected the sturdiest hammer she could find. "Okay. Now I'm ready to confront this guy." She headed back toward the front of the house.
"You do realize a gun trumps a hammer?"
"I realize that. Thank you for reminding me. I may not have a gun, but I am counting on my annoying ghost ex-husband to be my advance scout and warn me if I'm in danger of getting shot."
"I wish you wouldn't call me your ex-husband. Our divorce wasn't final."
"Your death was."
This wasn't exactly her idea of
partying on
a Friday night, Amanda thought as she walked across the moonlit yard toward the side of the road, clutching her hammer. But there was nothing else for it. The cops weren't going to help her. She had to take care of herself, and that meant confronting her stalker.
Keeping as close as possible to the shelter of
trees, Amanda made her way down the side of the road.
Charley darted ahead, then cam
e back. "I see the car
! Right around that curve."
"Can you see who's in it?"
"Nobody. He must be already circling around to the house to look in your window."
Amanda let out a long breath and tried to talk the knot in her stomach into relaxing. Knowing she wasn't
going
to confront her stalker
in the next few minutes
made her feel a little safer. On the other hand, knowing he was out there somewhere, maybe watching her window for her appearance, maybe watching her right now as she tried to sneak up on his car, ramped up the feeling of danger and sent prickles down her spine.
S
he rounded the curve in the road and saw the car.
The sight of the
older model, two-tone blue Pontiac
made it all frighteningly real. The car was
parked off the road, under a tree, partially hidden. It appeared to be, as Charley had said, deserted. Nevertheless, she studied the area carefully, looking for any sign of movement.
"What are you doing?"
Amanda gasped and jumped at the sound of Charley's voice. "I'm checking things out before I get any closer. The driver could still be lurking."
"He's not. I've already looked around. Didn't I just tell you he's not here? Come on."
Even with Charley's reassurances, Amanda felt exposed and vulnerable as she approached the vehicle. Her steps sounded
like gunshots
. The moonlight created eerie shadows as it glowed through the trees. An owl hooted a spooky call, and Amanda let out an involuntary shriek.