Embrace the Grim Reaper (24 page)

“I don’t get it,” Eric said. He tossed the remote onto the quilt and yawned, rubbing his hand over his face.

Casey picked up the remote and went back to the first frame of the footage, freezing the picture. She sucked in a breath. “Eric.”

“Yeah?”

“Look at the picture.”

“I’m looking.”

“What are we looking at?”

He shrugged. “Karl’s door.”

Casey shook her head. “What is in the middle of the frame?”

He squinted at the TV. “Yvonne?”

“And?”

He sat up. “Yvonne’s computer.”

Casey started the DVD again and jumped up from the sofa, standing with her face inches from the screen. “I can’t read the typing on here. It’s too small.”

Eric went to the player and ejected the DVD. “Come on. We’ll look on my computer.”

They left the lights off as they went downstairs, Casey avoiding windows. Eric’s computer sat in a messy office, one of the four bedrooms in his house. He put in the disk, and with the media player he enlarged the screen of Yvonne’s computer so they could see the typing.

“These are just bills,” Eric said. “They look normal. Nothing unusual about paying utility bills or insurance premiums.”

“You’re sure?”

“No, but I think so.”

“Okay. Move ahead.”

They fast-forwarded, stopping frequently, moving past payroll and inter-office memos about packing up supplies, announcements telling employees to be sure to sign up for their severance packages, and production lists.

“There,” Eric said. “What’s that?”

Casey’s stomach flipped. She knew the format. She knew it all too well. “It’s a contract.”

“About what?” Eric said, bending closer to the screen.

Casey noted the names at the beginning of the document: MIKE and PATRICIA MARLOWE.

“This contract is between HomeMaker and these people,” Casey said. “The Marlowes.” She read further, the hair on the back of her neck prickling. “It says someone died from using one of HomeMaker’s appliances.” She looked at Eric. “It was a dryer.”

Chapter Forty-one

Eric slid the DVD into its sleeve. “So it’s true. Ellen was right. Where do we go to find out more? HomeMaker?”

Casey shook her head. “There’s surveillance there. We’d be seen for sure.” She sighed. “Who would be the best person to talk to?” She held a hand up. “Other than Karl.”

“That’s easy. Yvonne.” Eric chewed his lip.

Casey watched his face go through several emotions. “What?”

“Talking to Yvonne is probably not the smartest thing.”

“Why not?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“What, Eric?”

“Yvonne is…well, she’s married to a cop.”

“A cop? Which one?”

He winced. “The one who was here earlier.”

“Yvonne is married to the chief?”

“No. No, not him. The patrolman.”

Casey rested her forehead in her hand. “So how do we talk to her?”

“Do you think he’s home? I mean, wouldn’t he be out with the chief, at the scene?”

“He could be. He was with him an hour or so ago. But there’s no way to know for sure.” Casey stood up and paced the room. “What time is it?”

Eric glanced at the computer. “About one-thirty.”

“When do the workers take their lunch break?”

“At HomeMaker? Three-o’clock, I think. Why?”

“Is there a way to get from the factory part of the complex to the administrative offices?”

“Sure. There’s a hallway that connects them. Two hallways, actually.”

“And you have keys?”

He shrugged. “I have a master. I can get into anywhere except Karl’s office. What are you thinking?”

“Do the workers go outside during their break?”

“Lots of them. To smoke, or eat their lunches.” His face cleared. “We’re going to mix in with them, and sneak into the building, aren’t we?”

“You up for it?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“We’ll have to walk.”

“Walk?”

“If the cops spot your car, we’re screwed.”

“Right. Besides…” He grinned crookedly. “My car’s still back at Home Sweet Home.”

Casey grimaced. “Does that mean your keys are, too?”

“Just the ones for the car. Karl would kill me if someone got ahold of HomeMaker keys, so I keep those separate.”

“Good. Put on some shoes. And we need light blue button-down shirts. You have any?”

“I’m sure I do. While I’m looking, um…”

“What?”

He touched his lip. “You’d better clean up a little.”

Casey found his bathroom, and tried not to be too shocked at her appearance. It was a wonder Eric hadn’t fainted when he first saw her. Her lip was swollen to at least twice its size, and blood had spattered across her face and chest. There was even some in her hair.

Not all her own blood, she was sure. She swallowed down the bad taste that rose in her mouth.

She scrubbed her face, being gentle around her lip, and brushed out her hair with a comb she found in a drawer. She also found some ibuprofen, and took a couple of them with water from the sink, hoping they would ease the throbbing in her arms, back, and lip.

Eric knocked on the door. “Here’s a shirt.”

She took it from him and closed the door again, stripping off her long-sleeved tee. Untying the material from around her arm, she grimaced at the nasty cut on her shoulder. It should probably have had stitches, but after washing it off she used some regular Band-Aids from the medicine cabinet to pull it as closed as she could before wrapping an Ace bandage around her whole upper arm. It was the best she could do.

Stuffing her bloodied shirt in the wastebasket, she put on Eric’s. A little large, but she wouldn’t complain about that. She twisted her hair tightly and tied it into a knot. Ready. On her way out she hesitated, then stepped back into the bathroom to run water in the sink and wash away any tell-tale blood. She retrieved her shirt from the trash and snatched the bloody washcloth from the sink.

“We’ll dump these on the way,” she told Eric when she joined him in his dark mudroom. “I don’t want the cops finding them here and getting you in trouble.”

“I’m already in trouble.”

Casey smiled grimly. “You got some dark jackets we can wear over these? And some ballcaps?”

He went back to his room and returned with a black turtleneck, a dark blue sweater, and a few choices for hats. Casey chose the sweater, not wanting the feeling of the band around her neck, and a dark blue Indians cap to go over her hair.

“Eric, how far away does Yvonne live from here?”

“A couple of blocks. Maybe three.”

She glanced at the clock. “I think we have time for a detour, as long as we keep it short. It might even make our visit to HomeMaker unnecessary.”

“What about her husband?”

“I think you’re right, that he’ll be with the chief. But if it looks like he’s around, we’ll split. And you’ll need to talk to her yourself.”

He looked uncertain.

“You can do it. If you’re scared, you just act like you’re brave.”

He smiled weakly. “I can try.”

“Good. Okay, here we go. And here’s how we should do it.”

After listening to her plan, Eric went out the back door, making an unnecessary trip to the garage in the hopes it would scare out any cops waiting for him. He then continued down the alley. Casey watched from the back window, but after a few minutes was convinced no one was following.

She eased out the door and followed the shadows through the yard and into the alley, where she broke into a jog. She caught up with Eric at the second intersection, and tossed her shirt and the washcloth into a Dumpster.

He glanced at her and she nodded. They were in the clear. For the moment.

It didn’t take long to get to Yvonne’s house. The windows were dark. No movement, no lights.

Eric’s light hair shone too brightly in the dim streetlight, and Casey gestured for him to put his hat on. He made a face. “It’s itchy.”

Casey didn’t respond, and he slid the cap over his hair.

The front of the house was hidden from where Casey stood. “Does Yvonne’s husband park his car in the garage or on the street?”

“I don’t know. I think they only have a single-car garage, so his might be in the driveway.”

Casey eased closer to the back yard of Yvonne’s house. She picked up a stick and tossed it into the fenced-off area, ducking behind a tree. When there was no response, she found another stick, a bigger one this time, and threw it closer to the house. No dogs. No movement. No lights.

“Well?” Eric said. “What now?”

Casey didn’t answer. The garage was attached to the near side of the house. Sticking to the shadows, she walked along the side of the garage, stopping before she got to the front. She listened, hearing nothing but Eric following too closely, gravel crunching under his feet. Lowering herself into a squat, she peered around the front of the garage, her eyes at knee level.

The driveway was empty, as was the curb in front of the house.

Gesturing to Eric to stay, she eased around the corner, glad to see a small window in the garage door. She peeked in. It was too dark to see anything except what looked like a sedan-sized vehicle.

She went back to the corner. “You know what kind of car Yvonne’s husband drives?”

“Not a car. A truck. Don’t know the kind.”

She nodded. “He’s not home.”

“So let’s go.”

She held up a hand. “This is all you, Eric. She knows I’m here, we might as well call the cops ourselves.”

He nodded, his face tightening. “And what am I asking her, exactly?”

“What she can tell you about the person who died because of the dryer.”

He took a deep breath and let it out.

“You don’t have to do this,” Casey said.

“Yes. I do.” He wasn’t looking at her now, but at the door of the house. Without another word he walked across the driveway and rang the doorbell, peering in the window beside the door. He jumped back, the sound of barking filling the night.

A face appeared briefly at the door, and the door opened. “You stay!” Yvonne said, pointing back toward the house. She scooted out the door, closing it behind her. The dogs barked and whined, their claws making high-pitched squeals on the door.

Casey stayed in the shadow of the garage, trying to see without being seen. Even in the dim light she could read the anxiety on Yvonne’s face. Eric was gesturing, talking. Casey couldn’t make out his words, except for Ellen’s name, repeated several times.

“No!” Yvonne finally said, her voice shrill. “No. No, no, no.”

Eric stumbled backward, Yvonne’s hands out as if she’d pushed him.

“I can’t tell you. I won’t.” She looked around, as if expecting someone to be in the driveway.

Casey pulled her head back, behind the garage.

“Leave it alone, Eric,” Yvonne said. “Please. Ellen wouldn’t… You have to. It’s not… Just go away!“ She broke off with a sob, and the door opened, then slammed.

Eric pounded on the door. “Yvonne! Yvonne, please! I need your help!”

There was no response, except for the high-pitched barking of the dogs. Eric took one more look at the two heads appearing at the door’s window, and lurched back behind the garage. “It’s no use, Casey. I’m sorry.”

Casey led him back through the neighbor’s yard, and into the alley. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

“But I didn’t find out anything.”

“Sure you did.”

He stumbled over a rock and righted himself, Casey reaching for his arm.

“What was it?” he asked. “What did I find out?”

Casey glanced back toward Yvonne’s dark house, where she was sure Yvonne huddled in the darkness with her dogs, shivering.

“You found out that she’s scared. And that changes everything.”

Chapter Forty-two

They walked without speaking down back roads and quiet yards, avoiding the homes Eric recognized as ones with dogs. In twenty minutes they were making their way toward the diner, The Burger Palace, and The Sleep Inn. Once they arrived, it was trickier to find places to walk where they wouldn’t be spotted. It took them twice as long as it should have to maneuver around HomeMaker’s parking lot, and Casey was beginning to worry they’d be too late.

But when the back entrance of the factory came into view they could see many employees still hanging around outside.

“Will they recognize you?” Casey asked.

Eric smiled grimly. “They might. Karl made a big deal of getting me in some corporate pictures. I guess I had the look he wanted.”

Casey considered that. “I guess we’ll have to take the chance, if we’re going to do this. Looks like we can keep our caps on, at least.” A lot of the workers she could see were wearing hats. “Where are the video cameras?”

He shrugged. “Never bothered to check.”

Casey scanned the face of the building, and saw two cameras. One was high on the wall, to get an overall view of the entryway, and one seemed to be trained on the door. She couldn’t spot any in the parking lot. There would be at least one inside the building, she was sure.

“We’ll have to leave our dark sweaters here,” she said. “I’m glad we can wear these caps, though. Be sure to keep your face down.”

They got as close as they could within the shadows before strolling together into the break area, acting like they were in conversation. No one bothered them, or seemed to even notice they were there. They neared the door, and Casey felt like she could breathe again.

“Hey.”

Casey froze and turned toward the voice, pivoting on her feet to place her weight on the right one, ready to fend off an attack.

The man held an unlit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. “Either of you got a light?”

Casey shook her head. “Sorry.”

The man grunted his displeasure, but turned to another co-worker to repeat his question. Casey and Eric continued on into the building. Casey didn’t look up to search for videos, but she was certain they were there. She hoped Security wasn’t looking at the monitors too closely.

Eric didn’t hesitate, but headed casually toward the door at the end of the hallway marked Administrative Offices. He put the key in the door and turned it, and before anyone could say anything, they were in the silent, dark hallway, with the door closing behind them. Eric punched the code into the alarm and the access light turned green.

“They’ll be able to tell that I was here, when they look,” he said.

Casey shrugged. It couldn’t be helped. “Let’s go.”

They walked the length of the hallway, and Casey stopped Eric before he opened the door. “Video cameras? Any idea where they’re placed?”

“I know there’s one in the lobby, watching Gloria and the front door. I don’t think there’s one in the administrative offices. My…Karl’s big on privacy in the workplace. His own workplace, anyway.” He opened the door.

The hallway led directly into the lobby of the building, where Gloria the receptionist sat during the day. They kept their heads averted from the desk, hoping the inmates weren’t being seen on the monitors. Eric went directly to the other door, and within moments they were in the main office.

Yvonne’s computer was off, as were all of the lights, except for a security lamp on the wall. Casey took a moment to look around, and saw that Eric had been correct. No video cameras. At least none that she could see. She went to Yvonne’s desk, sat down in the chair, and booted up the PC.

Eric flipped on one of the overhead lights. “No one can see us in here.”

Casey looked around the room. He was right. No windows. How depressing.

“I’m not sure Karl would let Yvonne keep sensitive information out here,” Eric said, yanking open one of the desk drawers.

“But we’ve got to look. And we know things are on the computer.”

A box came up on the screen asking for a password. Casey looked to Eric, but he shook his head. “I have no idea what it is.”

Casey examined Yvonne’s desk, and the photos of her family. “What are her kids’ names?”

“Joshua and Caitlin, but why would she—”

“It’s what people usually do.” But not this person, apparently. Casey tried every combination of the names she could think of. “Okay. Husband’s name?”

“Jimmy.”

No good.

Casey turned with mounting desperation to the final photo on the desk, one of two Doberman Pinschers taking up an entire sofa. They looked a lot sweeter there than they’d seemed back at the house. “Pets.”

Eric sighed heavily, his face creased with irritation. “I don’t know. How am I supposed to know that?”

Casey grabbed the frame and slid out the cardboard, exposing the back of the photo. “Roxie and Jabba at Christmas.” It was worth a try.

Seven long minutes later she hit it with “JoshJabCaitRox.”

“Guess Jimmy’s the fifth wheel,” Eric muttered.

But Casey didn’t care about that. She searched the computer for anything that said, “Marlowe.”

There was nothing there.

“But we saw it,” Eric said. “Right on the screen.”

“Well, it’s not here anymore.”

Casey sat back, looking over the computer toward Karl’s door. “We have to get in there.”

“I don’t have a key.”

“I know. But that’s where the information is.”

“Casey—”

She got up and went to Karl’s door, examining it. Assuming there was a way to get in, there was probably an alarm set to go if anyone entered. “You’re sure your key doesn’t work?”

He came over and tried to put his key in the lock. It didn’t fit.

Casey studied the door some more. It was wooden, not steel. She placed her hand on it. It was made of good quality wood, but it was also paneled. The insets would be weak points. All hell would break loose if she did what she was considering, but if they were quick enough…

“Be ready to move, Eric.”

“What? What are you doing?”

Casey took a deep breath and sat back on her left leg. She focused on the door, the upper section of the lower right panel, closest to the doorknob.

“Casey…” Eric’s voice rose.

She ignored him, and snapped her foot at the door. A loud crack ripped through the office.

“Casey!”

She kicked the door again, and once more, until the panel broke free from the door’s skeleton. She pushed the panel out and squeezed her arm through, unlocking the door from the other side. The door scraped open, crooked on its hinges. Casey stood in the opening, surveying the office. No security measures were immediately apparent, but she had no doubt they were there.

“Come on, Eric.” She strode into the room and approached the file cabinets along the side wall. They were labeled clearly, and she went for the one holding L-M. Of course there was nothing inside with the name Marlowe.

Eric stood in the middle of the room. “What should—”

“Check his desk.”

“The drawers are all locked. But the desk is wooden.” He looked at her expectantly.

“I can’t kick apart everything, Eric. Here.” She grabbed Karl’s letter opener from the desk and handed it to Eric. “See what you can do with this.”

He stared at it for a moment before going after the lock on the top middle drawer.

Casey turned back to the files. There were too many to go through in the few minutes they had. What else would it be under? Dryer? Lawsuit? We’re Screwed?

Eric cried out. “Got it!” He yanked the top desk drawer open.

“That was fast.”

“Cheap lock.”

He rifled through the contents of the drawer and came up with a key, which he shoved into one of the other drawers. It opened. Casey began going through that one while he opened the drawer on the other side.

She flipped through the contents. Folders for insurance, lawyers, Mexico…Marlowe. She pulled it out and slapped it open, resting it on the drawer. The top paper was the first page of the contract. The one they’d seen on Yvonne’s computer. She skimmed the document, searching for key words. As she read, the room fell away from her, and her blood turned to ice in her veins.

“Casey?” Eric looked at her across his drawer.

She blinked, slowly turning to him. “It was a child.”

“A child? How old?”

“Two.”

Eric stared at her blankly. “A two-year-old was doing laundry?”

“No.” Casey shook her head once. Twice. “He wasn’t doing laundry.” She licked her lips, opposite the swelling.

“Casey, what is it?”

She tried to talk. Cleared her throat. Began again. “He was playing hide-and-seek. He climbed into the dryer. His mother thought she had forgotten to start it, and turned it on. By the time she realized she couldn’t find him, it was too late.”

Eric’s eyes widened as the horror of the story sank in. “Why didn’t he just kick the door open?”

Casey swallowed. “The door latch…was defective. It stuck. Even if he had been strong enough to get the door open, if he could’ve found it while he … he wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

Eric sat hard on the desk chair. “How can a door latch be defective?”

Casey looked back at the folder. Found a place in the document and underlined it with her finger. “The boy banged against the door, and with pressure from behind, the metal piece on the catch pushed up against the strike, and did exactly what its name says.”

“It caught it?”

“So hard it wouldn’t let it go. Even when the mother realized what had happened, and was trying to get the door open.”

Casey put her elbows on the drawer and dropped her head into her hands. “Loretta said Ellen wasn’t happy about the reason people might be able to keep their jobs.”

“I knew that, too. But I don’t get it. How could this help HomeMaker get people back to work?”

Casey shook her head. “I’m not sure. Unless….”

“What?”

Images swam before Casey’s eyes. Board rooms. Teams of lawyers. Dottie Spears shooting daggers at her across the table with her eyes. A contract. Not a lawsuit. “A lawsuit wouldn’t bankrupt a place like this.”

Eric considered that. “Probably not. The amount of money this place goes through in a year…it’s more than a lawsuit—even a huge one like this would make—could destroy. And of course there’s insurance for this kind of thing. But the publicity. That would be bad.”

“I haven’t heard any publicity,” Casey said. “Have you?”

“No. Not a word. I haven’t even heard any within the company.”

“That’s why it’s a contract. Not an official case. An official case, the reporters would’ve been swarming the place the next morning. This is the only way to keep it under wraps. ”

Eric shook his head. “But why would the family do that? If a company’s machine killed my son, I’d want the world to know.”

“No,” Casey said. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t…”

“The mother…she started the dryer. She let her two-year-old die in a dryer.”

“It wasn’t her fault.”

“Of course it wasn’t. But what is the world going to see if they take this case to trial? They’re going to see a negligent mother who didn’t know where her toddler was. No matter what the verdict is against HomeMaker, there will be some people who will always see it as the mother, killing her son.” Casey let out a shaky breath. “She’ll always see it that way.”

Eric looked at his hands, then back at her. “Do you—”

“No, Eric. No. We are not going there.”

“Okay. Okay. Sorry.”

He glanced at the clock. “We’ve been here too long. We need to get out.”

“Yes, I know, but…” Casey skimmed the subject lines of other folders in the drawer. Nothing else with the name Marlowe. She looked down at the folder and shuffled through the papers. Behind the contract were numerous memos, letters, statements from doctors… And another contract. This one without HomeMaker’s logo. This one said simply, Karl Willems. Karl Willems, making his own deal with the Marlowes.

Something behind them rustled, and Casey jumped to her feet.

Willems stared at them from his broken doorway, two security guards in front of him.

“Eric?” He glanced at his son, and then at Casey, his expression hardening. “What the hell are you doing?”

Eric swallowed audibly. Casey moved to get between him and Karl, but he held out a hand, keeping her back. “You weren’t exactly truthful with us the other day, Karl.”

Karl’s lips twitched, and he dragged his eyes toward Eric. “I don’t know what—”

“I’m not stupid, Dad.”

Eric’s hand curled into a fist, hard against his hip, but Casey had no urge to comfort him this time.

“We found it,” Eric said. “Him. The boy who died.”

Karl nodded, his eyes not leaving Eric’s face. “Gentlemen, you may go.”

The security guards hesitated, but Karl pushed between them and jerked his head back, an unmistakable gesture of dismissal. “Out. Back to your posts.” They left. Karl stepped into the room. “It’s not what it looks like, son.”

Eric snorted. “And what exactly do you think it looks like? I think it looks like you were covering up the death of a child. A death caused by a HomeMaker product.”

“Oh, is that what you think?”

“It’s more than that,” Casey said.

Karl turned to her. “And what do you know?”

“I know how these things work. Businesses and deaths and law suits and confidential contracts.”

“I see.” He stepped further into the room.

Casey got past Eric this time, and stood between the two men. “Why don’t you stay right there?”

Willems regarded her thoughtfully, then nodded. He stepped over to one of the chairs in front of his desk and sat in it, crossing one leg over the other. “You can’t have found much. Security called me only ten minutes ago to say you were here.”

“Ten minutes for security to get here?” Eric said. “They were slow.”

Willems shrugged. “Soon it won’t matter anymore.”

“Right,” Casey said. “When the company moves to Mexico.”

Willems shook his head. “It’s a shame, but there was nothing else to be done. No matter what some people thought.”

No matter what Ellen thought, he meant.