“Yeah. Don’t know how long we made ‘em, but long enough it looks familiar. Why does it matter?”
Casey glanced at Eric. He said, “We found this, and got curious.”
Aaron frowned again. “But you said—”
“—it could be dangerous. I know. And it could be. So please, neither of you mention this to anybody, okay?”
Jack looked at Aaron, and back at Eric, half laughing. “What is this? CSI? Law and Order?”
Eric glanced down at his hands, and Jack’s mouth fell open. “It is. It is Law and Order.”
Casey leaned forward. “Promise you won’t tell anyone.”
“Except Aaron?”
Aaron punched him on the arm. “I already know, dude.”
“But we can talk about it.”
“Actually,” Casey said, “that would be good. See if you can remember anything more about these.” She stood. “We’ll take it with us.”
Jack picked up the pieces and looked at them some more before placing them back in the box. “There’s something…”
Casey closed the box’s lid. “What?”
“I don’t know. I just think I heard…” He shook his head. “Can’t get it. But I’ll let you know when I remember.”
“Thanks.” She stuck the box under her arm. “Eric? Eric.” She nudged him with her foot.
“What? Oh. We going?” He blinked, and his eyes focused on Casey.
“Come on.”
Aaron and Jack followed them onto the front porch, Jack continuing down to the lawn and the mower. Eric slid into the driver’s seat, grabbing his keys from the seat, and Casey opened the back door on the same side, placing the box in the back seat. She shut the door and bent down to Eric’s open window. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I just…every once in a while it just hits me, you know? That she’s really gone. And now I have to wonder if she’s gone because of that.”
“It’s only been a little over a week, Eric. You can’t expect to not think about her.”
He looked away, then fumbled with his keys, putting them into the ignition. “You coming?”
“Where are you going?”
“I was on my way to the bulk food store. Home Sweet Home needs salt, sugar, that kind of stuff.”
Casey considered climbing back into the car and accompanying him. “You know, I have a few things to do. I think I’ll stay in town.”
“You want me to drop you somewhere?”
“Nah. I’ll walk. Thanks.”
“Okay. See you tonight at dinner, if not before.”
She patted the top of the car and stepped back onto the sidewalk. He eased away from the curb, and she waved to Jack. Aaron stood on the porch watching her, his arms crossed over his chest.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“So where are we going?” Death said.
Casey gritted her teeth. “I am going to the library.”
Death made a sound of disgust, focusing on a light blue hand-held computer game, pushing the buttons, turning this way and that with the image on the screen. “You’re so boring. The library, play practice, helping at the soup kitchen. Don’t you ever do anything fun?”
“I used to.”
“Oh, don’t get that whiny tone again.”
Casey walked faster. Death stepped deftly over a raised crack in the sidewalk, eyes still on the game.
“You do realize you could go bother someone more interesting,” Casey said.
“Of course. It’s just, your potential to be interesting is so much greater than most of the others.”
“I can’t see how that could possibly be.”
A car drifted past Casey, and she tried not to show her discomfort. A police car. Not the chief this time, but another officer, wrist bent over the steering wheel as he watched her walk. A few seconds later he was gone, but Casey could feel his eyes between her shoulder blades, a reflection from his rearview mirror.
“See what I mean?” Death said. “That could’ve been something to see.”
Casey peeked at the game Death was playing. “What is that?”
“It’s called Gardener’s Row. You plant flowers, or vegetables, and try to keep them watered, weeded, and bug-free.”
“And you think I’m boring?”
“Hey. Nature is good stuff. And how often do I get to actually grow things?” Death made a face as the game emitted a sound of failure, a crumbling, sucking sound of plants dying and vegetables decomposing. “Unfortunately, I’ve got a rotten thumb.”
“At least you can use your scythe to cut down the stalks when they’re dead.”
“Har, har. You’re a stitch.”
Casey walked up the library steps, moving aside to let a mother with two young children pass. The older child, probably about five years old, craned his neck to see what Death was playing. Recognizing the gardening game, he wrinkled his nose and followed his mother, who gave no sign of seeing anyone but Casey.
“See?” Casey said. “Even little kids know your game is lame.”
Death sat on the bench. “Well, then, let them play the violent stuff. I get plenty of that in my line of work.”
Casey left Death to weeding and entered the library. Stacy greeted her and hooked her up with her usual computer station. She opened the browser and checked her e-mail, remembering her promise to Ricky to check it daily. There were two actual e-mails among the spam. The first, from Ricky: Mom’s fine. Nobody’s been there. The realtor’s showing your house this afternoon. Hope they hate it. Sent the papers to your lawyer. He called this morning, about Pegasus coming around. Call soon, sis, okay? Love, Ricky. P.S. I gave Jewel a call. She was happy to hear from me.
Casey shook her head. He knew what he was doing, calling that awful girl. If anything could get Casey back home…
The second e-mail was from Don, her lawyer. Casey. Your family is fine. Ricky seems annoyed with Pegasus, but not threatened. Your mother has so far been left alone. Got the papers from Ricky. Let me know where to send them, and they’ll be off.
As for the Pegasus car that killed the man two weeks ago, Pegasus claims he didn’t return his car for the new piece, so they are not liable. That was about as far as I got. Will keep you posted.
Keep in touch. Don’t get too lost.
Don
Casey sat back, looking blankly at the words before closing the screen and typing “HomeMaker dryer door latch” into the search engine. She was rewarded with a long list of places to buy door latches, explanations from home repair gurus on how to replace them, and instructions to fix a door if it isn’t latching correctly. She clicked on one of the latter. The basic answer was to put a new latch in, something just about anyone could do on their own. One person said they’d started slapping a large magnet over the door handle to keep it closed during the cycle, and one went so far as to wonder if she should just get a new dryer rather than mess with it.
HomeMaker dryers, along with their parts, were all listed and available. Same latches she and Eric had seen on his computer. Same dryers.
Nowhere could she find anything to indicate Ellen’s latch had ever existed. But it did. And Jack was sure it was a HomeMaker product.
Giving up on that avenue, Casey ran a search for the Pegasus car accident from two weeks earlier. There were only a few hits, a couple about the investigation of the accident—which was inconclusive—and the arrangements for the man’s closed-casket funeral. Casey e-mailed all of the articles to Don, in case he hadn’t seen them.
Inconclusive.
Her family’s accident had remained inconclusive, as well. No matter what her investigators tried, they couldn’t seem to find the one piece of evidence that would nail Pegasus. She knew it was the manufacturer’s fault. They knew it was their fault. Why else would they have performed the recall? But there was no way to make them accountable for Casey’s accident if they could run rings around Casey’s team, and as long as they had the witnesses to say Reuben had been drinking beer the night of the accident. Even if it hadn’t been anywhere close enough to make him drunk, or even approaching the legal limit. With his body destroyed there was no way to check, so it was Pegasus’ innuendo against her word.