A mother with a toddler in a stroller went past on the sidewalk, heading across the street to a small park. Casey watched them, an ache spreading through her chest. Benches and a few picnic tables sat under two big trees, and Casey made her way over, settling at the picnic table farthest from the play equipment. Digging through her bag, she pulled out a cell phone, one that was paid ahead, with a number that would die a quick death when she’d used all the minutes and bought a new phone.
She punched in a number she knew by heart.
“Hello, Wilson’s Catering, may I help you?” The voice, as always, made her smile, but also brought tears to her eyes.
“Ricky.”
He paused. “Casey? Where are you?”
She gave a half laugh. “How are things?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. Paying your bills, gathering your mail, having a builder repair your roof.”
“What? What happened?”
“Storm. That big maple in the front yard dropped a load on your porch.”
“Oh, no. The tree?”
“Gone. I’m sorry, sis.”
Casey pushed on her lips with her fingers until she evened out her breathing. “The house?”
“Taken care of. Had a few prospective buyers go through, but no offers. The realtor’s still hopeful, but I don’t know…”
“You’re not really trying, are you?”
“Now, come on—”
“Ricky.”
“All right. I’m not pushing it. But I have it listed with an agency, okay? I just…” He hesitated. “You’ll be back sometime, and wish you hadn’t sold it. You know you will.”
“I don’t know that. In fact, I’m sure I won’t.”
“But Casey—”
“Enough. Tell me other stuff. How’s Mom?”
“As well as can be expected.”
“Ricky—”
“She worries. You know she does. She’s not used to the idea of women striking out on their own, with no place to call home. Well, I mean you have here to call home, of course, if you only would.”
Casey sighed and rested her elbows on the picnic table, dropping her head back to look at the leaves above her. The happy screams of the little toddler pierced her heart.
“They’ve been here,” Ricky said.
Casey sucked in her breath, sitting up. “When? Which ones?”
“A few days ago. Came to my house. Said they’d given up on yours. The same two as always. The woman with the bad dye job and the guy with the face.” The face with the unusually asymmetrical look. Like it had belonged to two different people, and been molded onto one skull.
“What did they want?”
Ricky snorted. “What do they always want? To know where you are, of course. And what your plans are in regards to Pegasus.”
Casey concentrated on her breathing, trying to calm her racing heart. “Did they threaten you?”
“No more than usual. Said their lawyers would be contacting yours. Like that’s anything new.”
“Did you tell them—”
“That you have no interest in pursuing the case? That they were legally forbidden to contact you? Of course I did. I always do. But do they listen?”
“I’m sorry, Ricky.”
“I know. And really, you know I don’t mind helping out. I just wish…”
“Yeah. Me, too, bro.”
They sat quietly for a few moments.
“More papers came in the mail,” he finally said. “Stuff for you to sign.”
“You know where to take it.” Her lawyers. The only ones who ever knew approximately where she was.
“Sure you won’t come home?” Ricky asked. “Or at least let me come to you?”
Casey swallowed hard. “I can’t. You can’t. Not yet.”
Ricky sighed. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“You’re already doing it.”
“But, Casey. What are you doing? Are you really…are you okay?”
“I’m traveling. I’m looking.”
“For what?”
“God only knows.” She looked up, and almost jumped off of the bench.
“I know, too,” Death said. This time, rather than popcorn, Death licked a melting chocolate ice cream cone.
Casey frowned. “Love you, Ricky. Thanks for everything.”
“But Casey—”
“I gotta go. I’ll call again soon.”
“Soon as in tomorrow? Or soon as in next month?”
“As soon as I can, Ricky. Take care of yourself.” She pushed the off button on the phone, keeping her eyes on the screen for a few more moments, as if she could keep her brother there with her. “What do you want now?”
Death waited for Casey to lift her eyes. “Just checking in. Seeing what’s going on.”
“You’re not afraid you’ll scare the children?”
Death licked the ice cream and glanced over at the playground, which now held a small playgroup of kids. “They aren’t scared of me.” Death waved at a small boy in the sandbox. The boy waved back.
“He can see you?”
“Of course. Only people who aren’t afraid of me can actually see me.”
Casey studied the parents. “So to the grown-ups, I’m sitting here talking to myself.”
“They’re probably as scared of you as they are of me.”
“But they can see me.”
“Of course. You’re not a mythical figure.”
“Mythical?”
“Legendary. Supernatural. Call me what you like.”
“A pain in the ass.”
The corner of Death’s mouth twitched up. “Not to everyone.”
“You realize you interrupted a perfectly good phone conversation with my brother.”
“Nothing keeping you from calling him again.”
Casey licked her lips and looked at her phone, caressing the screen with her thumb. Nothing but homesickness, which would only get worse the more she spoke to him. She shoved the phone into her jacket pocket.
“So what now?” Death asked. “You going to hang out here in the playground all day?”
Casey glanced over at the mothers, seeing that one held a baby in her arms. Casey jerked her head away. “No. I’m done here.”
“What I thought. But this town? You’re going to stick around here for a while?”
Casey shrugged. “You got a better idea?”
Death ate the last bite of ice cream and gestured all around. “Clymer, Ohio. Who knows? It could be interesting.”
Interesting. Casey sighed. That word again. When all she really wanted was a spate of plain old ordinary days.
Chapter Eight
The Nesting Place was beautiful. Casey wouldn’t have been surprised to see flocks of birds fighting for control in the canopy of oak, maple, and sycamore trees. As it was, the yard—at least a double lot—was filled with shady woodland paths, and the freshly painted Queen Anne house sat like a blossom among the flowerbeds. Casey looked down at herself, glad she’d taken that shower at The Sleep Inn, no matter how quick and unsatisfying it had been.
A four-door Honda Civic sat by the curb, its keys in full view on the driver’s seat, so Casey figured someone was home. Or the inn had a guest who was about ready to check out.
Up on the porch the inside door to the house was open, with a screen door allowing a view into the heavily decorated foyer. Casey listened for any sound signifying that someone was home, and hearing nothing, pushed the doorbell. No response. Casey held her hand over her eyes and peered into the dark hallway. “Hello? Anybody home?”
Footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor. “Coming, coming!” Casey heard the voice, but no person became visible until a few seconds later, when a swath of red billowed toward the door. “Is it locked? No? Come in, darling, it’s open.”