Dying Echo: A Grim Reaper Mystery (Grim Reaper Series) (30 page)

“Just ate, thanks.”

“Come on back, if you don’t mind watching us eat. It’s not always pretty.” He grinned and led them back through the dining room to the kitchen. Amusement lit Eric’s eyes, and Casey herself found it hard not to laugh. It didn’t seem exactly kosher to be giggling, what with Betsy’s long-lost cousin being dead and all, and Casey’s brother in prison, but Scott exuded a cloud of good cheer. Her heart lightened—in a completely different way from when she looked at Eric—and she wondered what Scott would be like on a normal day. They’d probably all be on the floor, clutching their sides.

Betsy sat at the table with a teenage boy and a young girl. Casey couldn’t remember their names, but just from looking at them it was obvious they were related to Elizabeth. The girl looked just like her mother—and, therefore, her aunt—and the boy was basically a younger version of Cyrus. It was eerie how familial characteristics could hop from great-uncle to great-nephew, and she wondered if Betsy even saw it.

Scott pulled a couple of chairs in from the dining room and made room at the small table. The remnants of baked spaghetti and garlic bread looked good, even though Casey was full, and she wondered how long it had been since she’d had an actual home-cooked meal.

“So you’re the ones who found Aunt Lizzie?” the boy said.

“Billy!” Betsy went to touch his arm, then jerked her hand back and clenched her hands in her lap.

Billy. Casey remembered now. And the girl’s name was something different. Julie? Janie?
Junie
.

Casey looked into the boy’s face and saw some of the same strength—and uncertainty—she’d met in a whole group of teens a couple of weeks earlier. Those strong-willed Kansans had proven to her that young people deserved answers. And truth. Even if they were a mess of rampaging hormones. “We didn’t actually find her, Billy. Her landlord did. But we figured out who she was.”

“And she’s dead?”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “She was gone before I was born.”

“Yes, I know. I never met her, either.”

“Then why do you care who killed her?”

Junie was listening with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open, as if it was taking all her concentration to follow along. Casey wondered about continuing with the conversation in front of her, but figured her parents were sitting right there, and they should be the ones to put a stop to it, or send her to her room. Perhaps they figured the whole answers and truth thing extended to pre-teens, as well.

“My brother Ricky loved her,” she said. “They were seeing each other. Romantically.” What did teenagers call it anymore? Dating? Going out? Hooking up?

“So why isn’t he here? Or is this him?” He gestured at Eric.

“Sorry,” Eric said. “I’m here for Casey. We’re…friends.”

Billy looked at them knowingly, so Casey rushed to continue before he had a chance to remark on what he’d already figured out, which was apparently more than they had. “The cops think Ricky killed her.”

Billy took in this information stoically, working at something in his teeth with his tongue. “You don’t think he did?”

“I
know
he didn’t.”

“Because he’s your brother?”

“Well…yes.”

“And you’re trying to find out what happened so you can get him out of jail?”

“Yes. He’s a mess. He loved her a lot, apparently, and this is all just—” She was going to say, killing him, but stopped herself in time. “It’s been really hard for him.”

Billy watched her a little longer, then nodded. “Okay.”

Okay
. Law enforcement, Elizabeth’s co-workers, the media, they all doubted Ricky’s innocence. This kid in Texas, who didn’t know Ricky from Adam, but could see how his mother was hurting from the final loss of her cousin, believed it instantly. Casey wanted to hug him.

“You think she was killed by somebody from here.” He was watching her closely.

“That’s my guess. She was obviously in hiding. I guess she could have been running from something that happened later, but this is where it all started.”

“You think somebody here found out where she was.”

“It looks that way.”

“How could they have? I mean, if Mom didn’t know, after all this time. The cops, the papers, no one knew, no one could find her.”

Casey glanced at Betsy, then said as gently as she could, “I think people had pretty much stopped trying, Billy. It’s been a long time.”

Scott rubbed Betsy’s shoulder. “Tell them what you found out today, hon.”

She sat frozen for a moment, then patted her mouth with a napkin and pushed herself back from the table. “I’ll show you.”

Billy followed them into the dining room, where the boxes of memorabilia still cluttered the table. Junie stayed behind with her father, and Casey soon heard the clanking of dishes and silverware.

“I called everyone I could think of who Elizabeth might have known.” Betsy handed Casey a handwritten list of names and numbers, all checked off, some with numbers crossed out, and new contact information noted beside them. “Grandparents, aunts and uncles, family friends, her folks’ college roommates, even kids we met at summer camp…I couldn’t find anyone who took her in or who she even approached for help.”

“Or who would admit it,” Casey said. “It might be embarrassing now to say after all these years that they knew she was alive, when they know her family had been wondering all this time.”

“No, I believe them. No one heard from her, no one saw her, no one had a
clue
where she’d gone. It was like she completely disappeared off the face of the earth. Until now.”

“How could that happen?” Eric said. “How could a teenage girl—and a
young
teenager, not like eighteen or nineteen—hide out that well and for that long? Don’t shelters and hostels and things like that have to report runaway teens, or wouldn’t they watch the news? Even bus drivers, cops in other towns, you know. Isn’t there a network?”

“Sure, there’s a network,” Casey said, “but this is a huge country, and there are thousands of homeless teens. Cyrus probably had some cash in the car, or had hidden some in another place. Especially if he was mixed up with some folks who weren’t exactly above-board. Elizabeth could have grabbed the money when she ran, and used it to hop a bus or train or something that would take her far away from here. It’s not that hard to disappear if you really want to, and back then they wouldn’t have insisted on ID like they do now. But even today, use a fake name, lie about your age, it’s amazing what you can get away with.”

Eric looked surprised for a moment, then smiled gently. “Fake names. I remember those. And it’s not like fake IDs are that hard to come by, even for kids.”

“She was only fourteen!” Betsy said.

“I’m seventeen,” Billy said. “You don’t think I could disappear if I wanted?”

“I certainly hope not!” She grabbed his arm. “What are you talking about?”

“Mom, don’t freak out.” He pushed her away. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just saying. Sometimes people have reasons. Sometimes things aren’t what you think. Sometimes people just want…” He shrugged. “Never mind.”

Casey watched the panicked mother, and the son. Something about the son…

“Billy,” Casey said, “what is it?”

He chewed his lip, looked back at the kitchen, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Emotions ran crazily across his face—stubbornness, anger, fear, and finally worry, or was it sorrow? His eyes shone with tears.

“Billy?” Betsy placed her hand on his arm again, this time with gently. “What is it, honey?”

“It’s my fault.” His lips trembled.

“What is?”

“That Aunt Lizzy’s dead.”

“Honey, it couldn’t possibly be—”

“What happened, Billy?” Casey saw it in his face. He really thought he was to blame. “What did you do?”

He hesitated, then lifted his eyes to meet hers. A lone tear escaped and dripped down his cheek. “I saw her. I saw Aunt Lizzie. And then I sort of told them where she was.”

Chapter Thirty-three

The room went still.

“You saw Lizzie?” Betsy whispered. “
My
Lizzie?”

He nodded miserably.

“Where? When?” She shook him, and her voice rose. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Scott came from the kitchen and gently pried her away. “It’s all right, Bets, come on, now.”

“It’s not all right! He saw her! He saw Lizzie!”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry.” Billy was crying openly now. “I should have told you, but she said not to. She said I should just leave things like they were, and it would be better for everybody. Better for you. I didn’t know she was going to
die
!”

“Where did you see her?” Anger flashed from Betsy’s eyes. “She came here? She approached you, and not…not me?”

“I don’t think she meant for me to see her.”

“Oh, that’s even
better
.”

“Betsy…” Scott spoke quietly, but firmly. There was no hint of his inner child now. Betsy opened her mouth to say something else, and then her face crumpled, and she leaned forward, burying herself in Scott’s shoulder.

Eric had found a tissue box somewhere, and held it out to Billy. The boy grabbed one, and rubbed his face and nose.

“Can you tell us about it?” Eric asked.

Billy sniffed and backed up against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Scott was rocking Betsy, and Junie stood in the doorway, her eyes even wider than they had been at the dinner table.

“I was at school,” Billy finally said. “It was the end of the day, like a couple weeks ago, and I was walking out. I thought I saw you, Mom, and I wondered what you were doing there. But you turned and walked away, and you were wearing this dark trench coat kind of thing that I know you don’t have, and that was really weird, and I wondered—” He made a face. “I wondered if you were spying on me, or something, so I followed you.”

“I wasn’t spying on you—”

“Well, I know that now, don’t I?” He shoved his hands farther into his armpits and stared at the floor. “I followed her down the sidewalk toward our house, and there were a lot of us around, you know, since school just let out, so I don’t think she saw me at first, but she kept looking back, and when it was pretty much just us left, after most everybody else went to their cars or down their streets or whatever, I couldn’t really hide. She stopped a little bit, then turned and walked faster. I tried to keep up, but she went around a corner, there by the pharmacy, so I ran, but when I got there, she was gone. I was going to ask you about it, but I don’t know, I felt strange about it, so I didn’t.”

“Oh, Billy, I wish—”

“I wish, too, Mom, okay?”

“No, I mean—”

He held up his hand. “Let me finish. So I come home and we have dinner and whatever, and I have soccer practice, and I come back and shower and do homework and you go to bed and it sort of became this thing that I was probably just imagining, so I sort of, well, forgot about it.” He licked his lips. “But then the next day I was on my way to school and it was like I knew someone was watching me. When I got to town I went around the corner at the bank and went into the little entryway there, you know how it juts back? They weren’t open yet, so nobody was in there to ask me what I was doing, so I waited, and next thing I knew she was coming around the corner. She was wearing that same black trench coat, and she looked just like you, Mom. I stepped out in front of her. I thought she was going to take off, but she just stood there, staring at me.”

He swallowed, and looked past us all, out through the dining room door to the front room.

“What happened then?” Eric asked.

“I knew who it was. I mean, it had to be her, right? I’ve heard about her my whole life, not just from family, but from other people, too. Even at school, sometimes, our own town’s unsolved mystery, you know? Plus, I’ve seen that photo on the refrigerator. Who else looks that much like Mom? But before I could say anything, she goes, ‘You look just like him.’ I’m like, ‘Who?’, and she says, ‘My dad. Your Uncle Cyrus.’ I’m starting to say, ‘I don’t have an Uncle Cyrus,’ but then I stop, because I know who she’s talking about, and I say, ‘I do?’ She looks around, like she’s worried about somebody seeing us, you know? And she pulls me farther back, sort of behind one of the pillar things, and she looks at me like she can’t believe I’m standing there. I ask her why she’s here, and where she’s been, but she shakes her head and says it doesn’t matter and all that matters is that I’m safe and my mom is safe, and do I know who Wayne Greer is and if he’s happy.”

“Wayne?” Scott sounded surprised. “Why was she asking about him?”

Betsy gave him a sweet, sad smile and patted his cheek. “She was in love with him, honey.”

“But I thought…”

“She wasn’t sure yet, but Wayne had it bad for her—”

“Well, I knew that.”

“—and she was afraid.”

“Of Wayne?”