The Grim Reaper's Dance (3 page)

Death had deserted her long before, having tired of the walking. Of the
boredom
of it. Casey had said so long, glad to be rid of the incessant rubber band twanging. Besides, she was furious that Death had taken Evan and didn’t even seem sorry about it.

She walked several more miles, seeing only two vehicles the entire time, then angled into the cornfield, pushing across rows, the leaves scratchy, smacking her face. She found a place about a quarter mile in where a patch of grassy weeds had grown, brown now, like the corn, but soft, and mostly dry. She eased to the ground, her neck stiff, her shoulder throbbing, and lay flat on her back. She thought about pulling those crackers and cookies out of her pocket, but it seemed like too much effort. Instead, she closed her eyes, and willed herself to relax. A train whistle drifted across the fields, accompanying the clouds, and she gradually sank deeper into the weeds. She knew she shouldn’t sleep, not with her concussion, and she didn’t figure she would, not with the image of Evan begging her not to let
them
have it, whatever it was, but it couldn’t hurt to close her eyes for a few minutes. She was so
tired
…

She fell asleep so quickly she didn’t even notice when Death chopped an armful of grass and tucked it under her head, like a pillow.

Chapter Three

“You really shouldn’t be so crabby with me,” Death said. “It’s not
all
my fault, you know. The farmers were out awfully early.”

It was true. As soon as the sun had given even a hint of morning light the tractors were in the fields. Not Casey’s field of residence, so she wasn’t afraid of getting run over, but the harvesters were close enough she had no hope of getting back to sleep. But she wasn’t blaming the farmers. “
You’re
the one who woke me up a million times during the night.”

Death nodded. “Every two hours. That’s what they say about concussions.”

“Or what? I’ll
die
? Certainly wouldn’t want
that
to happen.” It was, in fact, what Casey had wanted ever since Death had taken her husband and baby, almost a year before. Death, however, had other ideas.

Death chucked Casey under the chin. “And who says you’re not a morning person?”

Casey swished Death’s hand away and stomped along the road, back into town. She made a breakfast of the hospital food as she walked, and while it wasn’t exactly her normal fare, it at least got her stomach to stop cramping. She ran her fingers through her hair, re-tied it into a ponytail, and hoped she didn’t look too much like she’d spent the night in a cornfield.

“You know,” Death said, “you’ve looked better.”

Casey, giving in to her baser nature, held up her middle finger.

Death kept quiet after that.

But really, where was she even going? Casey stopped suddenly, taking a deep breath. If she went back to town the most likely thing to happen would be that someone would notice her, the cops would find her, and she’d end up in jail for what had happened in Clymer. She should turn around. She should get as far as she could from this town, from the truck accident, and from anyone who could connect her with it.

But Evan’s last request, his last
breath
, was to plead with her not to let them get it. Whatever
it
was. And whoever
they
were. Could she turn her back on a dying man’s plea? A man who could no longer act for himself?

She stood at the side of the road, her thoughts in turmoil.

“So what’s it going to be?” Death asked. “You know what they teach in school: Safety First.”

Casey laughed without humor. “I am so, so far beyond safety. And I’m not sure I could…”

“What?”

“I don’t think I could live with myself if I let them win.”

“But you don’t even know who
them
is.”

“No. But Evan did. And he begged me to help.”

Death turned and continued walking toward town.

“Where are you going?”

“Where you’re headed. To find out who killed Evan, and to keep them from getting what they wanted.”

Death knew her too well.

Blue Lake Gas and Go was open this time, and three men in dark blue coveralls stood in one of the bays, laughing. They stopped abruptly when Casey walked in, their expressions ranging from boredom to curiosity to shock.

Death chuckled. “Well, aren’t they just the sweetest things?”

Casey took a step away from Death, who stood so close Casey could feel the dropping temperature. “They should know where the cops took the truck.”

“They
should
.”

“Um, can we help you?” the bored mechanic asked.

“I hope so. Where would a damaged semi be taken?”

He blinked, and took so long answering she thought she should repeat the question. Finally, he spoke. “I’d say Wainwrights’ Scrap Metal. Sound right to you guys?”

The curious mechanic nodded. “I guess. How bad was it?” He looked at Casey’s blood-splattered clothes.

“The truck wasn’t running anymore. Cab wasn’t even…wasn’t even in one piece.”

“Oh. That wreck out on the highway? Guy died?”

“That was the one.”

“Yeah, I’d say Wainwrights’, then. Metal recycling and junk yard. You think?” He looked at the shocked mechanic, who still stood with his mouth hanging open. He closed his mouth, swallowed, and nodded, only to return to his dope-like state.

“Okay.” Casey gestured toward the road. “How do I get there?”

The bored man scratched his chin. “Few miles from here. Town doesn’t have public transportation. At least not to speak of.”

“I’ll take her.” Mr. Curious. “That is, if you guys can spare me.”

Bored Guy rolled his eyes. “Take the rest of the day, if you want. Then I don’t have to pay you.”

“Hey, now. I’ll be back soon. Don’t want you trying to run this place on your own.”

The bored guy showed some emotion at that, snapping the other with a greasy rag.

“Okay, um, Wendell.” Casey could just read the name on the patch sewed onto the curious man’s coveralls. “You ready?”

Wendell dodged away from the rag and grabbed a ring of keys off the wall. “Come on. I’ll take you in my truck.”

Like Casey wanted to get in another truck. The pick-up he indicated might not have been a semi, but it was enough to cause her to shudder. She hesitated by the passenger door while Wendell got in his side.

“Second thoughts?” Death sat on the hood, twanging that awful rubber band. Casey hoped it would break, and snap Death’s fingers.

“Of course I have second thoughts.”

“You know, someday you’re going to have to get over it.”

Casey inhaled deeply through her nostrils, telling herself it would do no good, trying to beat up Death. “In case you’ve forgotten, I was in another fatal accident
yesterday
.”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten. I just know how to compartmentalize my feelings.”

Casey gritted her teeth and climbed into the truck. Death stayed on the hood.

“So, you leave something in the semi?” Wendell turned the key, and the truck roared to life.

“Yes.”

“Figured you were in it when it got wrecked.” He turned out of the lot and made a point of looking at her clothes. “You must be the one who got away. News said you walked out of the ER.”

Casey jerked backward, her hand going to the door handle.

“Don’t worry,” Wendell said. “I figure you got your reasons for skipping out. I hate hospitals, myself. But are you sure you’re okay?”

Casey looked at the man, trying to figure out whether he was driving her to the junk yard, or making a bee-line to the police station. “I’m fine. This isn’t my blood.”

“The driver’s?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head. “Poor guy. You know him?”

“Just a little.” She pulled Evan’s family photo from her pocket and held it out so Wendell could see. “That’s him and his ‘girls,’ as he called them.”

Wendell glanced at the picture. “They got a bad visit last night.”

Casey nodded, her throat tight, and studied the photo a bit more before sliding it back into her pocket. A rush of anger welled up in her chest and she glared at Death, who now lay sideways across the hood of the truck, whistling, as if ushering someone to the other side had no more meaning than assisting them across the street. If only Casey had been able to help Evan, or even been at his side when he died, instead of getting wrenched away by those men who had pulled her out of the cab.

Casey thought back to that moment. Who
were
those men at the crash site? They obviously weren’t cops, as they had disappeared as soon as the real law had arrived, and cops wouldn’t manhandle her the way that guy had when he’d frisked her. The men were looking for something. Something Evan had.

“You know,” Wendell said. “The police don’t know why those construction vehicles were on the road like that.”

“I’d assumed they weren’t supposed to be.”

“Yeah. They’ve been doing some work out on that stretch of highway, but the machines had been parked way to the side, since Sunday’s a day off. Somebody moved them. Don’t know why someone else hadn’t seen ’em or crashed into ’em before you folks. That may be a quiet road, but it’s not
that
quiet.”

So they’d been watching. They’d known where Evan was traveling and had picked a place to waylay him. From the first man’s attitude—
Goddammit, Evan, don’t you dare die on me
—they hadn’t wanted him to die. At least, not until they’d gotten their information, whatever it was. It just so happened it was raining, and a semi plus a slippery road didn’t make for good stopping.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Casey shuddered. “Yes, I’m all right.”

Death regarded Casey with amusement, obviously hearing just fine through the windshield.

“How far yet?” Casey was ready to be out of the truck.

“Just up here. See that pile of metal on the other side of the corn field?”

She couldn’t miss it. A stack of car parts, rusty barrels, broken railings, and appliances, reaching as high as a barn. Higher, maybe. Behind it sat more piles, and two crane-like machines, with magnetic pinchers. A metal fence surrounded the yard, enclosing the piles as well as two large pole barns and rows of junked vehicles.

Wendell pulled into the open gate, bypassed a truck scale, and pulled up next to a trailer with “Office” painted on the siding. “Here we are.”

Death had disappeared from the hood, and Casey slid out of the passenger side. A little dog came running from beneath the trailer, yipping and prancing around Casey’s feet. She looked down at it nervously, hoping it wouldn’t choose to make her ankles its breakfast.

“Davey!” Wendell hollered toward the trailer, then stepped up to the door, poking his head in. “Davey? Oh, there you are.” He backed off the cement step.

A man in yet another set of dark blue coveralls filled the doorway, a powdered donut in his hand. “Wendell! Awful early to see you today.”

“Yeah, well, I brought you a visitor.”

Davey turned his attention to Casey, not batting an eye at the state of her appearance. “You had breakfast? Got a dozen donuts here looking for a home.”

“No, thank you, I—”

The dog barked louder, jumping, its nose reaching Casey’s waist at the peak of its leap.

“Trixie!” Davey yelled. “Come on, girl! Leave the poor woman alone. She’s not doing anything to you.”

The dog dropped onto its rump, grinning happily at Casey, its tongue lolling out of its mouth.

“Got coffee, too,” Davey said. “To go with the donuts. It’s fresh. Come on up.” He waved Casey and Wendell in, and disappeared into the trailer.

Wendell held out a hand for Casey to go first. She went up, relieved when Trixie stayed outside.

The trailer was neater than she’d expected. A few chairs, some desks, and a counter with one of those big red “Easy” buttons on it. She fought the urge to push it.

“Have a seat,” Davey said, pointing to one of the vinyl-covered chairs. He handed her a steaming cup of coffee. “Milk? Sugar?”

She shook her head. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, my pleasure.” He held out the box of donuts, but Casey declined.

“No, thank you. Really.”

“You a health nut or somethin’? Got bagels. Granola bars.
Fruit
.” He said the last like it was a bad word.

Casey perked up. “Bananas?”

Davey rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Should’a known you’d bring me a body Nazi, Wendell.”

Wendell laughed. “She’s here looking for that semi.”

Davey paused, the bowl of fruit in his hand. “That one from yesterday?”

“That’s the one.”

Davey studied Casey more closely. “Sure is a popular vehicle.”

Casey sat up. “Someone else has been looking for it?”

Davey held the bowl closer, and Casey yanked out a banana.

“Few people. Cops, of course. Wanted to see if it’d been messed with. Brakes, so forth.”

“Had they?”

“Not that I could tell. But then, that truck was in bad shape. No telling what could’ve happened to it that we can’t see anymore.”

Casey gestured at him with the banana. “And someone else came?”

“Middle of the night. Set Trixie to barking something fierce. I came right out to see what was going on.”

“You live here?”

He jerked his thumb toward the road. “Across the street. Close enough I hear when something’s going on. Anyhow, I come over and Trixie’s got three men cornered by the scrap picker. One of ’em looks like he might be going for a gun, so I grab a pipe and tuck it under my arm, like it might be a rifle.” He gave a little smile. “Lighting’s not so great out here at night, so I thought it could pass, easy.”

“And what did they do?”

“Peed their pants, probably.” He grinned wider. “But I wasn’t close enough I could tell. I asked them what they thought they were doing, breaking into my property. The one smiles real nice, tells me they just want a look at the semi before it gets hauled away in the morning.” He shook his head once, hard. “Like someone was gonna bother taking that thing out once it finally got in here. Not something you want to do twice.” He took another bite of donut, powder sprinkling his shirt. “So I told them they could see just fine from where they were standing, and that they’d better get their eyefill, because if I saw them again I was calling the police.”