The Ex Who Saw a Ghost (Charley's Ghost Book 4) (16 page)

Amanda scowled at Charley. “Are you doing that?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Lila raised her hand again and clutched invisible fingers.

Amanda reached to push her arm down, but there was no need. It dropped to the earth of its own accord. The luminescence faded and her eyes dimmed.

“Lila, get back here!” Amanda continued to hold her jacket over the wound though she knew there was no longer any reason to do so.

“They’re leaving!” Charley said. “Parker, don’t go! Come back. What about me? I’m your friend! No, I don’t see any white light! Just because it’s there doesn’t mean you have to run into it! Don’t leave me!”

Another shot exploded and a heavy weight crashed into Amanda’s left shoulder, knocking her backward. An instant later pain screamed through her arm.

Damnation! She’d been freaking shot!

“Run!” Charley shouted.

Amanda would have to get up before she could run and she didn’t think standing would be a good idea with a shooter out there. However she was in agreement with the general idea of Charley’s advice.

She needed to get away.

She rolled, turning briefly onto the injured arm, stifling the urge to scream.

Another shot hit the ground behind her, exactly where she was lying an instant before.

She rolled faster, against a tree trunk, twisted around it, reaching the other side just as a bullet hit the tree.

Someone was serious about killing her!

She slid the revolver from her waistband, got to her feet, and fired in the direction the shot had come from.

Charley darted over to her. “I’m sorry! I was watching Parker and Lila and you almost got killed because I wasn’t guarding you!”

“Save it for later. Where is he?”

“There’s three of them now.”

Three of them, one of her, and four rounds left in her revolver. Both Teresa’s shotgun and her rifle lay in the middle of the clearing. Even if she could get to one of them, she wasn’t sure she could lift and aim it with the damaged shoulder.

Someone moved stealthily through the underbrush in the area across the clearing. She could hear the rustling, but no more shots came, no flash she could aim at.

“Go stand in front of one of them and I’ll shoot through you,” she whispered.

Charley clutched his stomach. “That could hurt.”

“Then move out of the way as soon as you see the bullet heading toward you.” It was a ridiculous statement, but no more ridiculous than the idea a bullet could hurt him. “You fell down on your job as lookout. This is the least you can do.”

Charley crossed the clearing, into the woods. Amanda lifted her gun and gazed down the sight, following his darting movements. Why did he keep moving? Was he having trouble finding her attackers?

“I’m glad you’re here!” Charley shouted.

Who was he talking to? Had Teresa returned with help?

He dashed back across the clearing. “The boys from the well are here. Mark said the Wagner brothers and the hunter are circling around, trying to get behind you!”

She turned to look just as the woods exploded with sound again and a bullet seared past her face, into the tree beside her.

Amanda dropped to her knees, her gaze searching the area.

“Thanks, Grant!” Charley moved a few feet and stopped, waving. “Over here, Amanda!”

Amanda aimed at his chest and squeezed the trigger. A man screamed.

“Good shot!” Charley reported. “He’s down!”

Amanda made a mental note to forgive Charley for his next five offenses.

“Thanks, Winston! Over here, Amanda! Quick! He’s aiming at you!”

Amanda spun, aimed at Charley’s glowing chest, and fired. Another scream followed by a wild shot that went over her head.

Make that his next ten offenses.

One shooter and two bullets left. Her odds were improving…assuming Charley had been standing directly in front of the guys she’d just shot and they were incapacitated.

Charley darted back and forth through the trees. “We’re looking! Get down!”

So much for her odds improving. Time for some trash talk.

“There’s only one of you left out there,” she shouted. “I can see you. The ghosts of the men you put down that well are helping me. They want me to kill all of you. I’m giving you the chance to take your buddies back home before they bleed out.”

No response except the sound of someone moving on her left.

“Stanley’s aiming at you around the tree! Get his arm! Right here!” Charley held his hand out.

Damn. Tough shot.

She took it.

Stanley cursed.

“Got him!” Charley pumped a triumphant fist into the air.

But it was only Stanley’s arm and rustlings from behind her and to the right told her the other men were still alive.

She ran to where Charley stood. “Don’t move, Stanley!” she ordered, pleased that her voice sounded strong, wasn’t shaking the way her insides were.

Stanley gaped at her and reached for his rifle with his uninjured hand.

Amanda shot that arm and put a booted foot on the rifle. “I said, don’t move!” She held her empty revolver close to his face. “Unless your buddies want me to blow your ugly face to the other side of your head, they better stop moving too!” She could only hope nobody had been counting shots.

Stanley stood motionless, blood dripping from his right hand and his left elbow. She held her own injured shoulder to the side, hoping he wouldn’t see her wound. He was a big man and even with his injuries, he might still be able to take her if she didn’t get her bluff in and keep it until Teresa returned with help.

“Clyde and somebody else are up and coming this way,” Charley reported. “They’ve both got rifles, but they’re hurt. I don’t know if either of them can shoot. Get them all over here. You can control them better if they’re in the same place.”

Charley’s knowledge of criminal activities did come in handy from time to time.

She cocked the hammer on the empty gun and pointed it at his nose. “Your murder victims tell me your buddies are headed this way. You better tell them to drop their weapons and get over here or I’m going to shoot them again as soon as I finish with you.”

“Bitch has got a gun in my face!” Stanley shouted. “She’s crazy! Drop your guns and come here!”

“The ghosts will tell me if you all don’t do as he says,” Amanda threatened.

“I don’t know if I can!” The voice was wheezy. “I’m hurt bad. I need help.”

“Mark says the hunter’s lifting his rifle!”

“Put that gun down!” Amanda shouted. “Didn’t I warn you? You’re starting to make me mad, and when I get mad, people die. Get your sorry butts over here. Now!”

“Who are you?” Stanley sounded a little anxious and unsure. Good.

“I’m your worst nightmare.” She tried to look scary instead of scared.

Clyde staggered up beside his brother. He held one hand to his chest and wheezed. Bullet probably hit a lung. He could be in trouble if help didn’t arrive soon.

He’d tried to kill her. Maybe she didn’t care if help didn’t arrive soon.

The third man, a stranger, sidled up to join them. He clutched his side with one hand. Though blood flowed through his fingers, he seemed to be in better shape than the others and still held his rifle in his other hand.

“Put it down,” she ordered.

“No.”

“If you don’t set that gun on the ground, I’m going to blow your friend’s head off.”

The man sneered. “You think I care what you do to him?”

She stepped back and aimed at the man. “Then I’ll put a hole in your right side to match the one in your left, but before I do, the men you killed want to torture you, pay you back for what you did to them. They’re going to make the bullet hole you already have hurt really bad.” She looked at Charley and tilted her head toward the stranger. “They’re going to make it cold as ice and hurt really, really bad.”

Charley stared at the man, his expression blank.

The man lifted his rifle and sneered. “Is that right? Really, really bad?”

“Like a Charley horse in your gut.”

“Oh! You want me to…I got it!” Charley ran toward the man and punched him in his bullet wound.

The man grunted and slumped forward.

“Drop the gun or I’ll do it again,” Charley warned.

Of course he hadn’t heard Charley, but he slowly opened his fingers and let the rifle fall to the ground.

Now if she could just continue to hold them at bay until help arrived.

“Do you know who you’re dealing with?” the hunter asked. He didn’t have the country accent of the brothers, he was better groomed, and his clothing looked expensive.

Amanda lifted her chin and gave him her best condescending glare. “Of course I know who you are.” She didn’t.

“His name is Blake Morrissey,” Charley said. “He used to pay the Wagners to hunt deer, but now he pays them to let him hunt men.”

Amanda sucked in a sharp breath. She’d known this involved murder…but hunting human beings like deer? She fixed her gaze on the shooter. “Blake Morrissey.”

His eyes widened. His smug self-confidence slipped a notch.

“You killed these men. You were bored with hunting deer and wanted a more challenging prey.”

“Help me!” a new voice called.

Charley turned toward the sound. “It’s the man from the alley, the one Lila had in the back seat of her car.”

I didn’t want to bring him this one…

Lila had brought this man to Stanley?

“Over here!” she shouted. “Looks like we have a new guest at our little party.” Three murderers, one druggie, Charley, and four victims from the well. The place was getting downright crowded.

The skinny, bearded man from the alley staggered toward them. A ragged tear ripped one side of his dirty T-shirt and scratches covered his face. “Help me.” He moved closer to Stanley who flinched backward. “Just give me a little more. I swear it’s the last time.” The man scratched his arms and tugged at his shirt, tearing it more. “I got money. I can pay. Just one hit.”

Was he begging Stanley for meth?

Amanda recalled Carstairs’ stories of strange people around his house, a naked man at his door, scratching himself until he bled and asking for help.

And Lila’s words.

I thought he was just another homeless meth head, a man nobody would miss, like the others.

The skinny man took a step in her direction, but Charley pushed through him. He shivered and looked at her accusingly. “I’m cold. That hurt.”

“Keep away from her or I’ll hurt you worse,” Charley warned.

Amanda took a step backward, putting space between her and all of them. “You paid Lila to bring you men off the street so this monster—” she nodded toward Morrissey— “could hunt them down and kill them like animals. You thought they were homeless drug addicts nobody would miss but you were wrong.”

“I ain’t no drug addict.” The skinny man backed away.

Stanley’s eyes narrowed to glowing slits of hate. “I wasn’t wrong. They were just meth heads that nobody cared about. Everything was fine until that stupid slut killed her own brother and called me, crying and begging me to help her. She didn’t tell me his brother was a cop, and she was too dumb to know the one before him was a senator’s son. Suddenly the whole state of Texas is coming after us. This is all her fault. Bitch couldn’t do anything right.”

Amanda resisted the urge to smack him with her .38. “They’re all people. They have names and families who miss them.” She looked over Stanley’s head. “Can you hear them? The men you killed? They’re here, and they’re talking about you. They want the world to know what you did to them. They want to see you arrested and punished.”

The skinny man looked all around him. “I hear them!”

Stanley sneered. “You start telling people about ghosts talking to you and they’re going to lock you up, not me. Lila’s dead with her brother’s cell phone in her pocket. She’s not talking. You’re the crazy woman who talks to ghosts and shot the three of us while we were trying to save Lila.”

“You can’t hear the ghosts of your victims?” Amanda asked. “Tell me about what he did to you all.”

“Stanley held them prisoner until they were jonesing for drugs,” Charley reported, “then he gave them fifteen minutes head start before Blake went after them.”

Amanda repeated the information. “Hit them again, guys, all of them.” She looked at Charley.

He zipped past the three of them, punching them in their wounds as he went.

Stanley’s eyes widened but he said nothing. Blake flinched and also remained silent.

Clyde moaned and sank to his knees. Poor monster might not make it. “We had to do something. The government was going to steal our land. We couldn’t pay the taxes. Our family’s lived here for five generations. This land is ours! We had to save it! It was his idea.”

Amanda wasn’t sure if he was accusing Blake Morrissey or his brother, but Stanley responded.

“Shut up, you idiot.”

Amanda looked at Morrissey. “Big hunter. Able to track down men out of their minds from drug withdrawal. Are you proud of yourself?”

The man’s eyes blazed with anger. Maybe she’d pushed it a little too far. His gaze never leaving hers, he stooped and wrapped his hand around the stock of his rifle then stood.

“Put that down!”

“I don’t think so.” He withdrew his hand from his bloody side and lifted the rifle to his shoulder.

“Run!” Charley shouted.

“Really? That’s the best you’ve got? Run? Hit him again!”

Charley punched Blake Morrissey’s bleeding wound again.

He flinched but didn’t waver. His finger moved to the trigger.

He’d called her bluff.