Her Eyes (25 page)

"A walk-in?"

"Yeah. I went to a talk about it, to find out more about them. Apparently, if a soul is too tired or doesn't want to go on, if there's another soul that is willing, they can walk into the other one's both. They agree to finish out the lessons and mission of the one that walks out. Pam walked into Catherine's body."

"Okay. So, if your wife is Pam, why are you getting a divorce?"

"She's not Pam. It's Catherine."

"I'm confused."

"I'm sort of guessing here, but I think Catherine decided she didn't want to die and she fought Pam to get her body back. She managed to get Pam out of the body. I don't know where Pam is. I hoped, at one point, that she would find another body. Not that I wish anyone to die or a soul to get tired of trying, but I wanted her to find a body and come back to me. In fact, the night they fought for control, I was in the hospital and I swore I heard her call my name. I went to look but there was no one in the room."

"Oh, Frank. That is such a sad story. I'm so sorry for you and Pam!” The things he said sounded too incredible to believe, but some part of Claudia knew that he spoke the truth. There was no questioning it.

"Thanks. That means a lot, you know? That someone genuinely cares."

"So if she found a body, how would you know?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't even know how to find her or find out."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Again, something tickled at the back of Claudia's mind. Something she felt she should know.

"Don't laugh. What about a séance?"

"A séance?"

"Yeah, see if you can reach her, find out where she is."

"A séance. Where would I find someone to do one of those?” Frank looked like the biggest skeptic in the world. A very odd change considering what he'd just told her.

"Hmmm, well, I can check around tomorrow. What do you think?"

He considered it a few minutes before finally answering. “It's better than anything else I've come up with. A séance it is."

The rest of dinner went well with their conversation revealing they enjoyed the same books and movies. She even learned about his family and the few people that he truly considered friends. It seems his ex-wife even destroyed many of his friendships. He was a strong man to put up with so much, but she didn't dare to tell him so.

At the end of the night, Frank took her home, dropping her off at the corner as she requested, instead of in front of her house. It was silly. Mike had to know where she had been, but she didn't want to aggravate him.

She walked up the street and followed the walkway to the porch. All the lights were off. Mike's car wasn't in the drive. Relief filled her. At least tonight he wouldn't play twenty questions with her.

It wasn't like she was cheating on him ... right? She and Frank had just had dinner and some conversation. There was no commitment, and she had told him that absent her memory returning she just didn't see any commitment happening. Glad that he wasn't there, she settled down with a cup of tea and mulled over what Frank had told her. Mostly she had listened to his story, but much of what he said made complete sense to her. She had wrestled with telling him about her own experience. Not just some of the things she “saw” while in the coma, but right before she woke up and the snatches of memories that seemed so disjointed.
I couldn't have had two bad relationships, could I? I couldn't be that stupid, could I?
Maybe after Frank went to a psychic or did a séance. There was something so heart-wrenching about that Pam woman he talked about.

Weird, I almost feel a connection to her except I couldn't. At least I don't think so. I can't remember or have any feelings about having a friend die. Yeah, maybe after that I can talk to him about my own experience and that kind of ghost-like thing that happened right before I woke up.

"So that was his game."

Catherine watched Frank drop off the floozy he had hired for the office. That woman had to be the reason Frank hadn't taken her back. He had found something younger and tighter to spend his time with. Figures. He threw her in the street for a pretty face.

The sheriff's department finally removed her from the house a couple of weeks before. She had dodged them for a week, but eventually they removed her things and when she came out protesting, they also removed her. Now she had her car loaded with her few personal possessions. To add insult to injury, she heard one of the deputies call Frank, telling him that he could move out of the trailer. His house had been cleared.

Cleared! Like she was some pest, nothing more than a roach to be removed. Frank had married her, exchanged vows with her. Now she wasn't even going to get a house of the deal. When Frank finished with her, there would be nothing left for her. She wouldn't get alimony, much less half of anything. That old codger from next door told her that he would be going to court, would be telling the judge all about her antics.

There was no way Catherine would end up in a trailer park or back at her mother's. She hadn't even spoken to her mother in ten years. She would not let that whore know what had happened.

Catherine watched the redheaded trollop walk up the sidewalk. Running her over would be easy. There were hit-and-runs every day, usually by criminals. No one would suspect her. Of course, all she had was this car, and she didn't need to tear it up or get taken back to the station for questioning.

Her real trouble was with Frank. All his money would be inaccessible to her if this made it to court. She couldn't let that happen. For now, she would leave the trollop alone and focus her energies on Frank. She doubted he would be at the job site tonight.

Out of all his jobsites, Frank spent most of his time at that location where the tramp worked. There had to be something there she could use to her advantage. A little creativity was all it would take and, as her previous boyfriends would agree, she could be very creative.

She turned the car around and started back toward Frank's main office. By this time tomorrow, she could play the grieving widow, move back in, and wait to collect his money. She didn't know how to run a construction business. None of the men she dated was worthy of a business, they hadn't even offered her a place to stay. She would have to sell that. Maybe take a cruise somewhere exotic where she could find a man worthy of her.

Catherine looked into the rearview mirror. She had to apply her makeup heavier with the scarring, but she could pull off finding another man. All she had to do was get them to the bedroom, and they would want her for the rest of their lives.

She sped along the road, finding energy in her purpose. A few turns and she was staring at the construction site. Big flood lamps lit the area to discourage thieves who loved to steal expensive equipment to feed whatever drug habits they clung to.

The good lighting helped. There were concrete columns in place where the road would be directed over the new bridge Frank's men were building. Rebar stuck out like strange hair in some sections.

Catherine knew little about construction. Her husband's business never interested her. She had a good eye though and when she saw the crane, she knew there would be plenty of ways to mess that up.

Frank had several peculiar habits. If something important or seriously dangerous was happening at a site, he had to be there. He often thought of his men like family. Family! The idea disgusted her.

There was plenty that could go wrong with a crane but she needed something fool-proof, something that was sure to kill Frank no matter where he stood. Guaranteeing something heavy fell on him would be impossible, unless she could operate the crane. That would be fun. Squish the bastard liker a spider. She loved the idea. It wasn't feasible though.

With machines, she didn't know much. Most of what she had learned came from boyfriends she had paid attention to while they tried to impress her. One guy told her how to build a pipe bomb. He wasn't a terrorist but one of those ATF guys. He could talk all day about work, fires, and basic explosives. His tedious conversations made their affair a short two weeks. She had listened during the bomb part though, considering it another way out of the marriage. The thing about pipe bombs was that most were delivered by mail and very traceable even by the smallest remaining fragments. Something at a construction site, with the ingredients kept at the site, might be much harder to trace.

Catherine slipped on the gloves she'd brought for the occasion. Now for the ingredients. She would never find a timer here but she might be able to rig something. The guys had to blow a chunk out of the mountain to start this project and that meant explosives and some sort of firing mechanism. Most sites had electrical igniters. All she had to do was wire the bomb into the ignition of the crane.
Boom
. While Frank stood there watching them lift another column into place, he would die. It would be beautiful.

Too bad she wouldn't be able to watch the demolition firsthand. The restraining order kept her from that. She would read about it in the newspapers though. She might save the clippings, sort of build a scrapbook for her new life, starting with the ending of the old one. And the news! That would be on television. And when it came out, she was the grieving widow they would show her, she would wear a hat with a veil. Very dramatic. Everyone would feel sorry for her, would reach out to her. Yes, that would be excellent! She felt a tingle that even caused her nipples to pebble as she decided she would plan her “mourning wardrobe” after she got back to her hotel tonight.

Catherine roamed around the site. She hated construction. It was so dirty. To think she married a man who enjoyed this. Yuck. She would find someone far more suitable the next round.

She found a large storage shed marked with a variety of warnings and a pad lock. She ignored the warnings. She wanted dangerous. She picked up an ax and started chopping at the lock. Nothing happened. The damn thing moved too much for a clean hit. She found a pry bar though and that did the trick. The lock fell away and she pulled open the door.

Not once had Frank mentioned a security system. Apparently explosives were handled better than even the tools. A digital pad in the building flashed. She didn't know the disarm code. She darted inside, grabbing a box that looked like explosives then ran from the building as the alarm started sounding.

"Minor problem,” she kept repeating to herself as she ran through the site, across the street, and then climbed into her car. She couldn't let anyone see her tag numbers so she took off, hoping she wouldn't happen across any police on the way.

Catherine stopped at the nearest gas station and went inside. There she would wait, drink some coffee in the parking lot. She wanted this over tonight. Some dumb-ass cops would go out there, check the scene, then go home. She would have the rest of the night to make her surprise for Frank.

"I hope you watch those guys good and close tomorrow. When that crane starts, you're history."

Frank thought he had walked into hell. His home was trashed. Even Win looked disturbed over the scene. When she had first left, the place looked okay. Of course, the police had escorted her away. All had been quiet for two weeks. His dear wife must've made a return trip here today.

It looked like Catherine had gone crazy, throwing furniture, breaking dishes. Worse, it seemed she had tried to take a saw to the front and back porches. He had never seen so much destruction. It would take him several days to put this back together.

He slumped onto the couch and started to turn on the television when he saw one of Catherine's shoes stuck halfway in the glass screen. At least he was home and not staying in the trailer. Win put his head in Frank's lap as if to agree. He didn't trust Catherine though. She could very well come back to the house tonight and try to kill him. He certainly didn't believe the mess with her was over with this one temper tantrum.

The cell phone in his pocket started ringing. This late at night, the news couldn't be good. He clicked send and waited to hear the new troubles laying on him. Somehow, he thought they would be related to Catherine.

"This is Frank, talk to me."

Frank opened his mouth, then closed it as the police officer went over a triggered alarm at his construction site. His mind froze as the officer told him the only building that had been tampered with was marked as “dangerous/explosives."

"I'll be right there."

Frank stood, wondering how far Catherine would go this time. Had she been at the site and stolen explosives? Would she put a bomb in his home? He supposed anything was possible with her. He also doubted this nightmare would ever be finished.

Frank opened his cell phone again and dialed Bill. His foreman needed to be aware of the situation. He also wanted Bill to watch out. There was no telling what Catherine would do with her plan foiled.

Frank didn't give Bill time to say hello when he answered. “Bill, you'll never guess what happened.” “Someone has broken into the explosives shed. This may mean big trouble. We may even get our license pulled to do blast jobs."

"Shit. Could it be Catherine?"

Odd how everyone seemed to have the same opinion.

"I'm willing to bet on it. She's trashed the house sometime today. She probably decided to blow it up instead of give it up. Anyway, I'm heading down to the site. It will be a late night, so don't be surprised if I'm a little late tomorrow."

"I'll handle everything. Don't worry, boss."

"I know you will. I want to be there when they put that column in though. It could be tricky."

Catherine stayed at the gas station. It stood on a small hill, giving her a view of the site and the flashing lights below. There were so many police officers, even a fire truck had arrived. All that fuss over one little break-in, and she wasn't finished yet. Frank had also arrived for the occasion. She wondered if he'd been staying at
her
house, propping his feet up, probably wondering what new trouble he could bring into her life.