Embrace the Grim Reaper (11 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Casey was pedaling slowly, trying to bring her heart rate back to normal, when a strange vibration came from her jacket pocket. She glanced down. What in the world? Oh. Her phone. She’d forgotten to remove it the day before.

She braked and stopped, one foot on the curb. Yanking the phone from her pocket, she scanned the face for the incoming number. Ricky. Of course. He could’ve gotten her information when she’d called yesterday. His catering business was sure to have Caller ID.

“Ricky?”

“They were here again. At my house. The lady with the hair, and the guy with the face.”

“What? When?”

“Just now. And that’s not all. She was with them.”

“She? You mean…” He could only mean one person. Dottie Spears. The CEO of Pegasus. “What did she want?”

“Same thing Hair and Face wanted yesterday. To know where you were.”

“But for her to come—”

“Something must’ve happened.”

He was right. He had to be. “What did you tell them?”

“What I always tell them. The truth. I don’t know where you are, where you’re going, or how to get in touch with you. Except that was a lie, of course, since we’re on the phone now and I do know your e-mail address. Not that you check it very often.”

“Are they gone?”

“Of course they’re gone.”

“I mean gone gone. Have you looked outside?”

She could hear his sigh over the phone, and the rustle that meant he was moving.

“Okay. I’m looking out the front window. There’s nobody there. No cars, either. Except mine and—”

Casey waited. “And?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, no. You’re not doing that. Who’s car is there?”

“Casey…”

“It’s not that awful girl from work again, is it, Ricky? What was her name? Jewel? Please tell me it’s not.”

“And if it is?”

“I guess I’ll have to come home after all.”

“Aaaah, so now I know the secret. I think I will have to call her again.”

Casey put a hand to her forehead. “So it’s not her?”

“It’s not her. But back to the reason I called—”

“You’re okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s not like these people are dangerous or anything. Just annoying.”

Casey wasn’t so sure. The guy with the face…well, that face wasn’t any too forgiving. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Of what? Incoming lawsuits?”

“Ricky…”

“All right, all right. I’ll be careful. Whatever that means.”

“It means—”

“I know what it means. I’m not an idiot.”

“Are you sure?” Casey squeezed her phone. “This number will be in your records now. I’ll have to get rid of it. You do realize they can track cell phones?”

“You called me yesterday.”

“At work. Not on your personal phone.”

“Oh. That’s right. But if you get rid of the phone how am I supposed to—”

“By e-mail, like usual.”

“But you have to promise—”

“I can’t promise anything.”

“—that you’ll check your e-mail more often. Okay? That’s all I’m asking.”

Casey blew a stray hair from her eyes. “Once a day.”

“At least.”

“Once a day.”

Ricky grumbled something she couldn’t hear.

“And Ricky? Check on Mom, will you?”

“You think they’ll go after her?”

“They’re bugging you. They’ve gotta think Mom knows where I am, even if you don’t.”

“I’ll check as soon as we hang up.”

“Thanks. And hey, if you find something out about…about Pegasus, let me know, okay?”

“Same goes for you.”

“I’ll tell you.”

“Good.”

A few seconds of humming phone service hung in the air between them.

“So…”

“Thanks for calling, bro. I appreciate the heads up.”

“You’re welcome. Now come home.”

Casey smiled sadly, gripping the phone tightly to her ear. “As soon as I can, Rick. I promise.”

“Well. I guess that’s about as good as I can expect. Love you, sis.”

“Love you, too.”

She held the phone to her ear long after he’d hung up, listening to the dead air.

Chapter Eighteen

Dottie Spears hadn’t started out as a horrible person. At least not when Casey had met her. She’d been sympathetic and kind, her iron hand at Pegasus showing only when one of her underlings said something insensitive in Casey’s hearing.

But Casey’s lawyers hadn’t trusted the woman, even at the beginning. In fact, they’d gone so far as to call her a slimy, bottom-dwelling, daughter-of-a-snake cannibal. And that was just for starters.

Casey had wanted to believe the best. Had actually been in too much shock and misery from the loss of her family, not to mention her own injuries, to notice when Dottie said things that might’ve been out of line. Such as suggesting it would be easier for Casey to just forget the whole thing and go on with her life, rather than fight the fight with Pegasus.

Casey hadn’t wanted to fight the fight. Had sincerely thought it would be best to leave it all, so she could just fade away, spending her days in the darkness of her bedroom, with her blanket over her head. But her lawyers hadn’t felt that way. Neither had Ricky, or her mother. They said she had to keep her head up. Go on with it all to show Pegasus that they couldn’t get away with their faulty mechanics. To keep anyone else from losing their family.

But Casey could honestly say she hadn’t cared at the time. Hadn’t cared that an entire fleet of hybrid cars and the people in them were headed for catastrophe. She didn’t care about anything at that point, other than the fact that she was alive, and didn’t want to be. In fact, she wasn’t convinced any car other than hers had had the same problem. Hers was a freak. An almost impossibility. Dottie Spears had told her so.

But as the months went on, as Ricky and her mother forced her to survive, she began to realize that something wasn’t right. The CEO of the company who killed her family shouldn’t be allowed to come to Casey’s house whenever she wanted, bearing plates of cookies. Sure, there was the possibility the woman actually cared, but as time went on Casey could see the reality of that was even more remote than the chance her car really was the only faulty one.

Casey finally agreed to take them on.

It wasn’t pretty. None of it was. Dottie Spears’ change from sympathetic friend to lethal opponent was so fierce it gave Casey nightmares. As if she needed any more of those. At least these involved claws and teeth, rather than flames and explosions and the screams of loved ones.

Casey didn’t want to go to court. Didn’t want photographs of her mutilated husband and son plastered across the courtroom, and therefore the nightly news. Didn’t want her family to become the poster children of vehicles gone awry. Didn’t want to sit in the witness stand at the mercy of Dottie and her legions of lawyers, who claimed Reuben had been drinking too much before they’d gone to pick up Omar that night…

She also didn’t want to look like the crazy woman, going after a scapegoat Pegasus for millions to make up for her dead family. Because nothing could make that up. And nothing is what would happen if she came off looking like a money-hungry bitch.

So they’d fought it in boardrooms. Closed doors, keeping out the media. Hammering away at a resolution that should please them all. All except Casey, who would be pleased only when she received a pass to that eternal haven, where she would meet up with Reuben and Omar.

She hadn’t gotten that.

Casey, now back at the library under stick-thin librarian Stacy’s watchful eye, had forced herself to return to the Pegasus web site. Not that they would have anything worthwhile there. She would have to look elsewhere for whatever had spurred Dottie Spears’ visit to Ricky. The woman still looked the same…if the on-line photo was up-to-date. The same as yesterday. The same as every day Casey looked.

Shaking her head, she brought up a search engine and typed in “Pegasus,” plus the date. If anything new was happening, it should be in the day’s news. She scrolled through the hits. Stock prices—still growing. Car dealerships—mostly the company’s own, with their trademark “personal green touch.” A question and answer site, where Pegasus owners took turns praising and criticizing their new rides. Nothing controversial, that Casey could find. Nothing new.

She expanded her search to include the entire month of September and received more of the same. Paging down, she scanned the headlines, looking for anything different, anything other than the Pegasus propaganda and useless “how do I take out the middle drink tray to clean it” questions.

She found it on page four. “Man Dies in Fatal Crash.” Pulse pounding in her temple, she read the article, which described the fiery inferno that engulfed a fifty-two-year-old man on his way home from work in Clear Lake, Iowa. He was driving a Pegasus car, same model and year as Casey’s had been. He left a wife and two college-aged children, and had been a large-animal veterinarian.

Casey laid her face on her fists, her breath coming in short, shallow gulps. How could this happen? Pegasus was supposed to—

“Everything okay?”

Casey’s breath caught, and she rounded on the person at the next computer, her voice a hiss. “No, everything is not okay!”

Death glanced around, eyebrows raised, before leaning toward Casey. “So you found it?”

Casey jabbed a finger at the article. “How long have you known about this?”

“Let’s see, when did it happen?” Death looked at the computer screen. “Two weeks ago Thursday, right? Yes. I’ve known since then.”

Casey turned back to her computer and closed her eyes. “You kept this from me—”

“Ma’am?” Stacy the Librarian hovered at her elbow. “Um, is everything all right?”

Casey took a deep breath and let it out before looking up at him. “I’m sorry. I just found out some…bad news.”

“Oh.” He looked at the computer screen. “Anything I can help with?”

“No.”

He backed up a short step.

“No, I’m sorry.” Casey held up her hand. “But thank you. I’m…fine. I’ll go in a minute.”

Relief washed over his features, quickly replaced by a professional mask of helpfulness. “Okay. Well, let me know if I can do anything for you.”

“I will.”

She watched from the corner of her eye as he made his way back to his desk, and avoided his gaze as he glanced back at her.

“You get me in more trouble…” She talked without moving her lips.

But Death was gone.

Casey found the “forward this article” button and e-mailed it to Ricky. He needed to know Pegasus had fresh worries. And had possibly violated the agreement they’d hashed out in those boardrooms so long ago.

Chapter Nineteen

“They were supposed to fix those cars, Don,” Casey said. “Every one.”

“I know.” Her lawyer’s voice was even and quiet. “It was my understanding they did.”

“Well, apparently they missed one. And the guy’s dead.”

“Okay. Tell me where to find the information.”

Casey did. “It shouldn’t have happened, Don.”

“No. No, it shouldn’t have.” Casey could hear him ruffling some papers. “I’ll make some inquiries.”

“Have they been there?”

“Who?”

“The Pegasus people. Have they been bothering you?”

“No.” He sounded surprised. “Why would they?”

“Because they’re trying to find me. They won’t leave Ricky alone. And I’m afraid they’ll go after my mother.”

“What are they doing?” Don’s voice wasn’t so quiet now. “It was part of the agreement. No contact. You would both keep up your end of the settlement, and that was supposed to be that.”

“Yeah, but the agreement just talked about me. No contact with me. It didn’t say anything about Ricky or my mom.”

The silence on the phone was ominous. “Leave it to me, Casey. I’ll take care of it. And besides, if they’re trying to find you—which they shouldn’t be doing in the first place—what exactly are they going to do if not contact you?”

Casey wasn’t sure she wanted to think about that. “Ricky said he was going to send you some more papers for me to sign. You should get them in a day or two.”

“What are they?”

“Don’t know. But I’ll give you an address soon, where you can send them.”

“Where are you now?”

She smiled. “You and Ricky. You just won’t stop, will you?”

“Hey, a guy’s got to keep trying, doesn’t he? One of these days…”

“Yeah. One of these days it won’t matter anymore.” She looked across the picnic table toward the playground, where this time two fathers played with the children. She swallowed the large lump in her throat. “And don’t bother trying to call me back at this phone number. Ricky already called it from home, so I’ll have to ditch it.”

“Casey—”

“They’re not going to stop, Don. They’ll keep looking till they succeed, and I really don’t want to find out what they want.”

“It can’t be—”

“Thanks for everything. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. But Casey…take care of yourself, okay? Do you need money?”

Casey laughed. “Don, you’re the one who signed that agreement with Pegasus. You know I don’t need money.”

He sighed. “I know. But it’s the sort of thing one is supposed to ask.”

“Well, you don’t have to ask me. Good-bye, Don.”

“Good-bye. And Casey?”

“Yeah?”

“Call again soon.”

She pushed the off button and considered the phone. How such a small piece of equipment could betray her… She got back on her bike, taking a last look at the fathers and their kids. Reuben had never gotten to play with Omar at a playground. Never taken him to a ball game. Never got to hear that universal first word. Da-da.

She pointed the bike toward the highway, and began pedaling.

Chapter Twenty

Several trucks sat in the over-sized parking lot of The Burger Palace. Casey looked around to make sure none of the truckers were in their cabs, and picked the trailer with the most remote license plate. Oregon. After carefully wiping the phone of all personal information, phone numbers, and fingerprints, Casey threw it on the cement several times, until the screen was cracked and it would no longer turn on.

She picked up a few stray broken pieces, then ducked under the truck, searching until she found a crevice where the phone would be neither discovered nor dislodged any time in the near future. She stood back up, glancing around again to make sure she hadn’t been spotted, and rode quickly away, not looking back.

The diner, across the street, had a few cars in the parking lot, and Casey realized she was hungry. The benefits of the orange juice had long gone, and her appetite had, for no apparent reason, returned. After seeing the article at the library, she’d been convinced she wouldn’t ever eat again.

She parked the Schwinn along the side of the building and went in the front door, inhaling the rich diner aromas of coffee, hash browns, and grease. The sign told her to please seat herself, so she chose a place at the front window, where a little of the autumn sun stole across the table.

“What can I get you?” The young waitress—Kristi, by her nametag—didn’t chew gum, and she wore low-slung black pants under her pink-and-white striped diner uniform shirt. No fifties diner look for her.

“Is there a daily special?”

“Breakfast is pumpkin pancakes. Lunch is shredded chicken sandwich and mashed potatoes. You could have either.”

“Oh.” Casey picked up her menu and perused the lunch items. “I’ll just have a hamburger. Fries. Cole slaw.”

The waitress took the menu and stuck it under her arm. “Anything to drink?”

“Lemonade?”

“Sure. I’ll be back in a minute.” The girl flashed her a brief smile and left in a wake of hair product smell that rivaled the coffee.

Casey sat back in the vinyl bench seat and looked around the diner. Not a busy lunch crowd, but then, she was early—more like the brunch crowd—and the people of Clymer didn’t seem to have a lot of extra money for the luxury of someone else’s cooking. An older couple sat in the corner booth. A single man at the counter. No one she knew. Which wasn’t at all surprising.

She looked out the window, across the parking lot, and saw the corner of the main HomeMaker building. She leaned forward, toward the glass, to take in more of the factory, and wondered again what had happened to Ellen Schneider. Had she been killed? Or were her friends just wrong when they said she wouldn’t do such a thing as kill herself?

“Mind if I join you?”

Casey looked up, expecting her usual companion, but was pleasantly surprised to see Todd Nolan, the banker, standing beside her table.

“That would be fine. Have a seat.”

He did, and the waitress was soon at the table, setting down Casey’s lemonade and allowing Todd to put an arm around her waist.

He smiled. “How’s your day going, sweetheart?”

The blood in Casey’s veins went cold, and she calculated how quickly she could reach over and suppress his carotid artery, sending him to sleep. Or perhaps she should just kick his shin under the table.

Kristi rolled her eyes and stepped away from his arm. “Daaaad, not in front of the customers.” She looked sideways at Casey. “You two here together?”

Casey let out the breath she’d been holding, and allowed her body to move back into normal “at ease” mode. His daughter.

Todd grinned at the girl. “She’s in the play. Casey, right?”

Casey nodded.

“I just met her last night.”

Kristi still didn’t seem so sure. “Mom know?”

“That I’m in the play? Of course she does.”

Kristi opened her mouth to say something else and Todd patted her leg. “The usual, okay? And not too much salad dressing this time?”

She cocked her hip at him and flounced away, leaving him to chuckle. “You have kids?”

Casey’s throat closed, and she grabbed her lemonade, taking a deep swallow, but choking on the sweet drink.

“You okay?” Todd looked ready to perform the Heimlich, his palms flat on the table, his elbows up, to propel him from the bench.

She set her glass down and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

He nodded. “No kids, I take it?”

“No.”

He glanced at her hand. “Married?”

She shook her head.

“Kristi’s my oldest. Got two more in high school. All girls.” He smiled. “Whenever they start talking about shopping I get out as quickly as I can.”

Casey cleared her throat. “And that’s why you’re here today?”

“No. I’m working today, at the bank, and just felt like coming by and seeing my girl.” He winked. “My wife is taking the day to clean the basement, so I’m glad it’s a workday, to be sure.” He sank down a bit in the bench seat, as if making himself comfortable for a good long stay.

Casey eyed him over her glass as she took another sip of lemonade, remembering his reaction when she’d mentioned Home Sweet Home. That bead of sweat rolling down his face.

“So what are you doing in Clymer?” Todd asked, interrupting her thoughts. He wasn’t sweating now, and he looked so relaxed his eyelids drooped, as if he were about to fall asleep.

Casey ran a finger down the side of her glass, drawing a path in the condensation. “Just traveling through.”

“By yourself?”

“It works.”

He shook his head slowly, as if not sure what to think of her. “You on vacation? Took time off?”

Casey looked away. “I don’t have a job right now.”

“So how do you afford traveling? Family money?”

Casey’s breath caught. Family money. She pressed her fingers to her mouth. He didn’t know how right he was.

“Sorry,” he said. “I get nosy about money. Goes with the job.”

Casey didn’t say anything, keeping her hand up, staring out of the window until her breath came back and she could talk without her voice shaking. “So,” she said. “Tell me about the play.”

“Twelfth Night?” Todd’s eyes opened wider. “We just read through it last night.”

“I don’t mean the play itself. I mean the people involved. Why you’re in it.”

“Oh.” He shrugged. “What I told you last night. They needed a guy my age, so they called.”

“It’s basically the same group each time?”

He sniffed, flicking a hand over the tip of his nose. “I don’t know. It depends who’s in town, I guess. Before Eric and Thomas came back we were a little hard-pressed for good people, but we got by. Holly’s in everything—well, as long as there’s a role for someone she thinks is attractive enough—and Becca likes to be involved. Leila…well, if Eric’s in it, she’s somewhere close by.”

“Aaron and Jack?”

He grinned again, a slow smile. “They like the plays. Keeps them out of trouble.”

Casey picked up her fork and twisted it in her fingers. “How about Ellen?”

“Ellen?” His face went white, then red, before returning to its usual color. “She was good. She enjoyed the plays.”

“I’m sorry,” Casey said. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, no, it’s all right. She was—” He stopped and leaned back as Kristi arrived with the lunches.

She set Casey’s hamburger platter down, then slapped an enormous salad in front of her dad, followed by a bottle of dressing. “There. Put on your own dressing if you’re going to complain.” With another narrowed-eye look at Casey, she stalked away.

Todd winced.

“Should I sit at another table?” Casey asked.

“No.” He held up his hands. “No, if anybody moves, it should be me. But there’s no reason for it. It’s fine.”

They looked over at the counter, where Kristi was scrubbing furiously with a dishrag, her eyes shooting darts toward their table.

“You sure?” Casey wasn’t.

“I’m sure.” He tipped the bottle to drip dressing onto his salad.

Casey slid the pickles off of her hamburger and placed them on the side of her plate. She didn’t think she should ask him to resume where he’d left off talking, as it obviously disturbed him.

“Tell me about Eric,” she said instead.

A glob of salad dressing landed on his salad, and he tried to scoop it back up with a spoon. “I’m not sure what was going on with them.”

“Who?”

The tips of his ears went red. “Eric and Ellen. Isn’t that who we were talking about?”

She blinked, then filled a few seconds putting ketchup on her plate. She dipped a fry and held it. “I guess so. But I was just wondering about Eric—why he left, and why he came back.”

“Oh.” He let out a breath, a smile flickering across his mouth. “That’s easy. He left, going down to Louisville, to get away from his family. And he came back to deal with them.”

Casey held the fry halfway to her mouth. “To deal with them? What do you mean?”

“Well, his dad’s not exactly the most popular guy in town, so Eric had some major fences to mend.”

“People don’t like his father? Why?”

“Why do you think?” Todd gave a half-hearted laugh. “Because he’s getting ready to put this entire town out of work.”