A Dark Mind Read Free

himself of the feeling that something was not right with this picture. He tried to see through the tinted window separating him and his wife from the limo driver, but it was no use. The driver was nothing more than a dark shadow.
    “Charles, what do you think Mitch and Carol will say when they find out about all of this?”
    He grimaced. “Mitch will be thankful it was me instead of him.”
    Maureen laughed. Her laughter usually soothed him, but not tonight. He was definitely on edge. The farther they went, the more uptight he felt.
    “If you prefer, Mr. Baker,” the voice said, “there’s some Woodford Reserve whiskey for you.”
    He and Maureen didn’t get out much. They didn’t have a lot of friends, but somehow La Vue had known that Woodford Reserve was his favorite whiskey. He turned his gaze away from the dark shadow that was their driver and looked at his wife instead. She finished off her second glass of champagne and then leaned her head back against the headrest and smiled.
    “Who paid for our night out?” Charles asked her.
    “I asked, but apparently whoever it is wants to remain anonymous.”
    “So you never talked to the actual person or people who set this all up?”
    She shut her eyes. “Charles, please, we’ve been over this. You called the restaurant yourself. Someone read our story in the local paper. Evidently, the anonymous donors were married straight out of high school, just like us.”
    “That still doesn’t explain why they would want to help us celebrate our anniversary.”
    “Doing nice things for people must make them feel”—her voice drifted off slightly before she finished her sentence—“better about themselves.”
    Charles moved closer to his wife. “How would they know that my favorite whiskey is Woodford Reserve?”
    His wife didn’t answer, prompting Charles to put his hand to her shoulder and give her a shake. “Maureen, are you falling asleep?” Maureen had never been one to take naps or doze off,especially for no good reason. “Maureen,” he said again, surprised by the panic lining his voice. “Wake up.”
    Nothing.
    He put his ear on her chest and listened. Her heart was beating. She was alive, but something was seriously wrong.
    An idea struck him and he looked at the champagne bottle. He lifted it from the ice, took a whiff, and then dabbed a taste on his tongue—definitely a bitter taste.
    Charles slid across the seat, moving closer to the window separating him from the driver, and drummed his knuckles against the glass. “Open this window right now!”
    The dark shadow didn’t flinch.
    Charles slammed his fist hard against the glass. “Turn this vehicle around and take us home!” For the first time in his life, Charles wished he hadn’t been so stubborn about owning a cell phone. He refused to purchase one of those modern gadgets. In his opinion, consumers were easily misled into wasting too much time on phones and computers.
    “Did you know that your wife kept a diary?” the voice asked through the speaker.
    “Take us home now,” Charles repeated as he opened every cabinet and compartment, looking for something that might give him a fighting chance if the driver ever decided to stop the limo.
    “For fifty years your wife dreamed about one man and one man only. And it wasn’t you.”
    “Shut up, you crazy son of a bitch.”
    “Harry Thompson. That’s the man she’s been pining over for fifty years, the man she wishes she had married.”
    Charles stopped his frantic search and looked through the thick glass at the shadow. “How would you know anything about Harry Thompson?”
    “
How
I know isn’t important, but
what
I know about Harry and your wife is something I am sure you would find very interesting.”
    “There’s nothing you could say about Harry Thompson that would interest me.” Charles shook his head, wondering why he was even talking to the wacko. “Maureen didn’t want anything to do with that stick-in-the-mud.”
    “Then