Free The Ex Who Wouldn't Die by Sally Berneathy Page A

want to see the box where I stored my gun? Dust for fingerprints? Check for DNA?"
     
    "What did you mean when you said Charley told you someone named Kimball stole your gun?"
     
    She leaned forward, clenching her hands between her knees and focusing her gaze across the room. "Oh, that." She cleared her throat. "Well. It was a dream. While I was in the hospital, and they were giving me drugs. I dreamed about Charley." She stood. "Let me show you where the gun used to be."
     
    "You dreamed about Charley, and he told you Kimball had stolen your gun? Why didn't you tell me that during our interview?"
     
    "I didn't remember until I got home and found it missing. What difference does it make? It was…just a dream. You think it was maybe a psychic vision, somebody named Kimball actually did steal my gun? I suppose that's possible." She was babbling, trying to cover her irrational statements.
     
    "Kimball—last name or first?"
     
    "I don't know. Psychic visions. They can be so vague." She started toward the bedroom.
     
    "You know anybody by that name?"
     
    "Nope. Right over there. That box. The gun was wrapped in that striped towel last time I saw it."
     
    Daggett surveyed the mess, his eyes widening. "Is this the way you found your room? Have you touched anything?"
     
    "Of course I touched things . Lots of things. The boxes were all in the closet, and this stuff was in that box. I pulled it out trying to find that blasted gun so I could bring it to you."
     
    He looked at her, that left eyebrow shooting upward again . "So there was no evidence of a break-in when you got home ."
     
    "The unlocked door."
     
    "Other than that."
     
    "My blinds were all closed."
     
    "You don't normally close your blinds?"
     
    "Not the blinds in the living room or kitchen. I hate being closed in. Claustrophobia."
     
    The detective looked skeptical.
     
    "And the boxes were in a d ifferent order than I left them, " she continued.
     
    "The boxes?"
     
    She gestured toward the closet. "Th os e boxes. Someone took them out to get to my gun a nd didn't put them back the right way."
     
    He nodded, his expression unchanged. He thought she was nuts. "When did you last see this gun?"
     
    "A few weeks after Charley gave it to me. I packed it away."
     
    "And that would be…when?"
     
    She shrugged. "A couple of years ago."
     
    "And you haven't seen it since that time?"
     
    "No."
     
    "So you don't really know when it went missing."
     
    "Yes, I do. I told you. The door was unlocked, the blinds were closed , the boxes were rearranged. Somebody was here while I was gone !"
     
    Daggett nodded, withdrew a pen and paper and wrote up her complaint. He made a perfunctory investigation of the scene, but she could tell he didn't believe her. At this point, she wasn't sure she believed herself.
     
    On his way out, he indicated the half-empty glass of wine sitting on the dresser. "First of the evening? Second? Third?"
     
    She sighed. "First." But it wouldn't be the last.
     
    She couldn't really blame him for doubting her word when she'd been blithering about messages from her dead ex-husband.
     
    After he left, she locked the door behind him, returned to the bedroom and retrieved her glass of wine. It was room temperature now, but she didn't care. She sank into the rocking chair, stared at the wall where she'd seen Charley, then took a big gulp.
     
    "Kimball tried to kill you because he thinks I told you about him. He's going to try again . You're in danger. You need my help. "
     
    Charley. No more wine for her.
     

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter S even
     
     
     
    She refused to look up. "Go away. You're dead."
     
    "Yeah, I am. But that's beside the point. Or maybe that is the point. I don't know. Believe me, I'm as confused as you are, but I think I'm here to save your life. "
     
    "I am not hearing voices. I am not hallucinating."
     
    "That's true. You're not."
     
    Amanda put her fingers in her ears.
     
    Charley suddenly appeared, grinning,