“They’re also saying if anybody sees her they’re supposed to turn her in.” Sheryl reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “Anybody want to do the honors?”
“Sheryl,” Bailey said. “Cut it out. Put the phone away.”
“We’re supposed to—”
“And since when do we do everything we’re supposed to? Come on.”
Sheryl glared at Bailey, her thumb over her phone.
“Come on, Sher.” Terry this time, his voice gentler than Bailey’s. “Give the lady a break.”
“Why?”
“Because if you call you give up our place here. And because it would drive your parents crazy.”
Sheryl stared at him a long time before sticking her phone back in her pocket. “For now.”
Casey let out her breath. She had to get out of the area, and fast. She could take the bag of information with her, and figure it out on the road.
“You’re still wearing the same clothes, aren’t you?” Bailey indicated Casey’s shirt.
“I didn’t have any others.”
“And couldn’t buy any?”
“I don’t have any money.”
“Don’t have— Why not?”
“Because she’s a fugitive,” Sheryl said. “Her stuff’s probably still in the truck.”
Casey ignored her. “It’s a long story. Look, I’ll just be going.”
She stood, but Bailey grabbed her pants leg. “Don’t go. Please.”
“Thanks for the food. Really, I appreciate it. But I can’t be found here. I didn’t have anything to do with the accident. It wasn’t my fault. And I don’t want you folks getting in trouble because of me.”
“We won’t. And I believe you about the accident. We all believe you. Don’t we?” She widened her eyes at her friends, all of whom nodded vigorously. Except, again, for Sheryl.
“If it wasn’t your fault,” Sheryl said, “why can’t you talk to the cops? She’s running from something.” This last was to the other teens.
“So what?” Martin said. “Isn’t everybody? Aren’t you?”
“I am not running from the cops.”
“Sheryl…” Bailey sounded irritated.
“Don’t Sheryl me. You… She…” Sheryl shoved the sliding door open and barged out.
Bailey sighed. “Terry—”
“I’m on it.” He jumped up and followed Sheryl out the door.
“I’m sorry,” Casey said. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
Bailey waved a hand. “Not your fault. Sheryl doesn’t exactly like strangers, or any adults, really.”
“Yeah,” Johnny said. “Especially after last week, when—.”
The others looked at him sharply and he jerked back, as if they’d slapped him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say anything.”
“Stay here.” Bailey wouldn’t let go of Casey’s pants. “Nobody will find you.”
“But Sheryl—”
“—will be fine. We’ll take care of her. Believe me, the last thing Sheryl wants is to call the cops.”
“We’ll bring you stuff,” Martin said. “Clothes and food and a sleeping bag. Stay as long as you want.”
“But won’t someone find me?”
“No one ever comes out here except us,” Bailey said. “I should know. We own this shed and all twelve hundred acres around it.”
“But—”
“You’re safe here. Even when these fields get harvested no one bothers with the shed.”
Casey glanced over at Death, who was humming along with the present song, eyes closed. Big help there. She really didn’t want to leave the area. She wanted to stay close, within range of Evan’s truck, close to where she knew Owen Dixon and Randy Westing—Blond Guy and Gun Man—were. Unless they’d already run off.
“You are hiding, aren’t you?” Terry and Sheryl were back inside, Terry inquisitive, Sheryl lurking behind him.
Casey considered Terry, and his question. “I am.”
“Why?” Terry didn’t look angry, or scared. Just…curious.
Casey looked at Death again, and this time got a little shrug, like what did she have to lose? And really…not much. But these kids? They did, whoever they were. Knowing too much could only get them in trouble.
“I just need some time,” Casey said. “I was in a…a bad situation.”
Sheryl shook her hair out of her face. “Killing somebody would do that.”
“Sheryl,” Bailey said, her voice sharp. “She didn’t kill anybody.”
Sheryl stared at the far corner of the shed.
“I promise,” Casey said, looking right at Sheryl. “I didn’t kill the truck driver. I just need a place to stay. Just for a little while. If what Bailey says is true, no one will even know I’m here.”
“It is true,” Bailey said. “But you know, there are…places you can go. No one will know where you are. He won’t know where you are.”
He? “Um,” Casey said. “Who won’t?”
“You know,” Bailey said. “Whoever it is that you’re running from. Your boyfriend? Husband?”
“No,” Casey said, “that’s not it, I—”
“We can’t get mixed up with this,” Sheryl said. “With her. Whoever she really is.”
Terry nodded. “Sheryl’s right.”
“No, she’s not,” Martin said. “Sheryl means she can’t get mixed up in it.”
“Martin!” Terry looked shocked.
“What? Just because Sheryl’s—” He stopped, glancing at Casey. “Look, it doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t do anything. Sheryl can stay out of it.”
Sheryl gasped. “That’s not fair!”
“We’ll keep you safe,” Bailey said to Casey. “I promise. You can stay here as long as you want.”
Casey gave a short laugh under her breath. It was Bailey’s own little group of night owls Bailey should be protecting. Casey didn’t exactly have a good record of late. She should tell Bailey to get the hell away from her while she and her friends still had a chance to survive unscathed.
“Thanks,” she said instead. “I would love to stay.”
Chapter Seven
“Cute kids.” The guitar was gone, but Death still hummed the last tune from Martin’s iPod.
“Cute and confusing,” Casey said. “Who ever heard of kids who sneak out to eat baked goods?”
Death laughed. “I like it.”
“So do I. I like them.” She rolled up from her burlap bed and began her morning stretches. From the height of the sun it was at least mid-morning. The kids had left somewhere around five, after hours of talking—among themselves, since Casey wouldn’t answer any more of their questions—and dancing to Martin’s iPod, and it had taken Casey ages to get to sleep after that. She was surprised she’d been able to sleep at all; at least Death hadn’t felt it necessary to wake her every two hours, like the night before. “You knew they were going to come.”
Death grinned. “They were here night before last, eating those blueberry muffins they talked about. I would have taken one if I could have, but that would’ve been breaking the rules.”
“What rules? You have rules?”
Death shrugged. “They change on a regular basis. That night I didn’t want to scare the kiddies. Anyhow, this group could be helpful. They’re smart, well, except for the tall one, and they’re well-connected. I mean, that Goth girl’s family owns all this.” Death gestured to the shed.
“Yeah,” Casey said. “Real helpful.”
“Just you wait. You’ll see.”
Casey stretched her arms to the ceiling, hearing her joints crack.
“So.” Death jumped up beside her. “What’s on the agenda for today other than your boring kata?”
Casey took a deep breath. “Other things you’ll find equally dull. You might as well go back to wherever you go when you’re not bothering me. Don’t you have some people to go transport on your little boat?”
“I don’t have a boat. And if I did, it wouldn’t be little.”
“So all of those stories about you rowing dead people across the river Styx?”
“Complete bunk. I hate water.” Death gave a shudder. “Bad experience when I was young.”
Casey dropped her hands. “You were young?”