Dying Echo: A Grim Reaper Mystery (Grim Reaper Series) (39 page)

“Oh, I don’t think you know all about any of that.”

Danvers was up on all fours now, breathing hard. He struggled to his feet and pointed at Casey. “You…I’m going to get you.”

Flatt held his arm up, bent at the elbow, like he was indicating a right turn. “You stay put, Les.”

“But—”

“
Stay
.”

Danvers sulked, his lips pushing out like a little boy’s. His eyes narrowed, and the nostrils on his bulbous nose flared.

“You stay, too.” Flatt pointed behind Casey. “Push one button on that phone, the woman dies. Give it to me. Now.” He waggled his fingers, and Eric’s phone went arcing past Casey. Flatt stuck it in his pocket.

Pinkerton squirmed again, and Casey reached up to find some pressure points in his throat. He stilled.

“Where are the blueprints?” Flatt said.

“Not here.”

“I figured that. That’s why we’ll leave one of you alive.”

“Why do you even need them anymore? It’s been forever since Cyrus came up with those, and it’s not like blueprints alone could put you in prison.”

He didn’t reply, and the last thing clicked into place.

Casey tried not to show her surprise. “You actually made one of the boats.”

Flatt’ eyelids twitched just the slightest bit.

“You made a boat, but it got seized.”

Pinkerton made a sudden try for escape, but the way he jerked and the way Casey gripped his arm brought his shoulder right out of its socket. The pop was audible in the small room, and he screamed.

“My God, Pink,” Flatt said. “You need to shut up.”

Pinkerton slumped, but Casey grabbed him under the chin and squeezed her arm around his throat.

“Tell me,” she said. “You were making a run and the boat got captured? But that can’t matter anymore, either. The stuff would be long gone—drugs?”

Flatt shrugged as if saying, “what else?”

“So there has to be something else. What?”

Flatt’ eyelids lowered even further. “Why don’t you keep guessing. It’s more fun that way.”

“You crossed another drug smuggler who’s out for revenge, and you think the blueprints will give you some leverage.”

His only response was the slight lift of his eyebrows.

“You want to build another one.”

No.

Eric’s voice came from behind her. “Someone died, didn’t they? When the boat was captured, there was an attack, and someone got killed.”

Flatt went still.

“But that’s not all,” Eric continued. “It wasn’t just another guy. Another drug smuggler. It was
law enforcement
.”

Casey remembered the conversation she and Eric had had when they’d first discovered the importance of the blueprints. The early nineties. The smuggling. The violence. It made sense.

“Those blueprints could be the end of you guys,” Casey said. “They could tie you to the boat and to the deaths of those cops.”

Flatt held his hands out. “So now you see. There’s no way we’re leaving without the blueprints. Wouldn’t it be easier if you just told us where they were?”

“Easier for you, maybe, because then you could just leave us for dead, like you did with Cyrus Mann.”

“It would have been easier for Elizabeth if she would have told us. But then, maybe she really
didn’t
know what we were talking about. That would be a shame. All that pain, and nothing to show for it.” He shook his head. “But at least we had a little fun first.” He smiled. “Like I’m going to have with you.”

Eric made a sound, and Casey held up a hand, sort of like Flatt had done to Danvers. The last thing she needed was Eric trying to be a hero.

Danvers’ face had grown stormier and stormier as they talked, and Casey could see he was about done with waiting. His hands were clenching and unclenching, and his feet shifted.

“Eric?” she said.

“All right.”

Danvers launched himself past Flatt, hands outstretched, going for Casey’s eyes. Casey swiveled, throwing Pinkerton back into Eric, then swung forward, sweeping Danvers’ hands up with her left arm and serving him a roundhouse with her right. He spun backward into Flatt, who grabbed him and tossed him toward the door like a ragdoll. Danvers crashed headfirst into the doorjamb and fell, out cold.

Casey took a deep breath and let it out, allowing her body to relax. It all came back to her, just like it had at the
dojang
the other day. Her. Flatt. Her heartbeat. That was all there was.

And then he pulled out a knife.

Sweat sprouted instantly on Casey scalp and her breath hitched.

“Not a knife fighter?” Flatt said. He turned it in his fingers and held it upright, like they do on choreographed movie knife fights. Not like a real fighter. Not like the thug in Louisville had been. That was something, anyway.

“I haven’t got a knife,” she said.

“Oh. That’s too bad.”

Flatt took a quick stride forward and jabbed toward her stomach. She sucked in her middle and rolled across the bed to the other side, but that trapped her between the mattress and the wall, and left Eric over on the other side with Flatt. Casey grabbed the pillows from the bed and flung them at Flatt. He batted them away, but she used those seconds to somersault across the bed so that she was on his far side. He lunged toward her, knife swinging sideways. Casey crouched and exploded upward, banging his arm with her left and following through with a jab to his face. She connected, and he stumbled back.

He recovered and moved toward Eric. Eric shoved Pinkerton between them. Pinkerton howled with anguish.

“Flatt!” Casey threw the TV remote at his face.

He ducked, then came back at her, knife raised. He swung the blade at her head. She blocked his arm with hers and threw herself into his stomach, shoving him back and to the side. He had a lot more heft than she did, so he didn’t go far, but it was enough to place him on the side toward the door, away from Eric. He fell to his knees, but was up instantly, rushing at her.

Casey grabbed the desk chair and swung it, cracking his knees and sending him face first onto the bed. Casey leapt on his back and grabbed the wrist of his knife hand. She drilled her knee into his back as he writhed, trying to turn over. He was so much bigger, so much stronger.

“Casey!”

She turned just in time to see that Danvers had awakened and was lurching toward her. Eric dumped Pinkerton on Wayne and ran forward, leaping over the chair. Flatt used the distraction to flip onto his back and yank his wrist from her hand. He raised the knife and thrust it down. Casey spun from his grip just as Danvers and Eric each lunged for her, and Flatt’s knife found its mark.

“No!” Casey screamed.

Everything froze, Casey staring at Flatt’s hand, that still held the hilt of the knife. Eric’s eyes were wide and staring, and Flatt gaped at what he had just done. Danvers’ mouth flapped open and shut, and then he fell face forward on top of Flatt.

Casey pulled Eric away, feeling frantically for a wound, but Danvers was the one the knife had found. Flatt yanked the knife from Danvers’ chest and came up off the bed, swinging for Eric’s back. With a roar, Casey hit Flatt’s hand with a roundhouse kick and knocked the knife from his fist, splattering Danvers’ blood over the bed and carpet. She followed up with a side kick, smashing Flatt’s nose, then a front heel, bashing his chin and tossing him back onto the floor. She was winding up for another when arms gripped her from behind, lifting her off the floor. She fought to get free, but it was Eric’s voice in her ear, saying, “Stop, Casey. You got him. He’s done. Stop.”

She batted at his hands, and he let her go. She rushed to stand over Flatt, but her last kick had knocked him out. Danvers lay on his back, gasping for breath, red bubbles foaming out of his mouth. Pinkerton lay on the floor by Wayne, holding his arm and crying.

Eric was right. They were done.

When Casey had regained her breath, she reached into Flatt’s pocket and pulled out Eric’s phone. He used it to call the cops. Within minutes they heard sirens.

Chapter Forty-nine

The door clanged open, and Ricky stood in the sunlight, blinking. Casey ran to him, taking him in her arms and squeezing him until she realized he wasn’t squeezing back. In fact, his arms lay at his sides. She stepped back, not letting go of his shoulders, and looked into his face.

“What now?” he said.

“Now you start over.”

He nodded once, and Casey led him to the car. She put him in the back and turned to Don, who had come to finalize the paperwork and see the whole thing through. “Thank you.”

He shook his head. “It was your doing.”

“But you believed in him. As you have in me.”

He frowned, and looked away. “I guess that’s my job, isn’t it?”

She held out her hand. “Don. Please.”

His nostrils flared, and he waited several seconds before looking her in the eye. “You’re welcome. For this.”

“And for all those other times?”

Something close to a smile crossed his lips. “And for those, too.” He finally took her hand, and she gripped his hard.

He nodded again, at her, at Ricky, at Eric. And then he climbed into his car and drove away.

Ricky sat hunched in the back seat of Eric’s car, looking like a little lost boy.

“Come on, hon,” Casey said. “Let’s get you home.”

Eric drove, and Casey sat in the back with Ricky, holding his hand, trying not to lapse into a waking coma. It had been a long few days since the motel. Long hours talking with the police, long hours convincing them to indict the Three. Long hours waiting for Danvers to die. She and Eric had flown home together, but in their own worlds, shrouded by their warring emotions and exhaustion. Casey felt like they had drifted a million miles from where they had been at the park just the other night.

She looked at him now, driving, for the second time an integral part of her life where it had met violence and death. A part she never wanted to share again. Especially not with him.

Texas also felt like another world, along with the people they’d left there. Betsy and Scott would be okay, as would Billy. They had each other, and Billy was young, with family support. Wayne was a different story. A guilt-wracked conscience, a wife who wouldn’t talk about it, and a son who had basically told the killers where to find Elizabeth. A longer road for the Greers. Could they be redeemed? Casey hoped so.

Instead of driving to Ricky’s own empty house, Eric took them to their mom’s. When they arrived, Ricky didn’t move, or even seem to notice where they’d stopped. Eric met Casey’s eyes in the rearview mirror, then went around to the other side of the car to help Ricky out.

Their mother didn’t respond to the bell, so Casey used the key and opened the door. “Mom?”

She sat in the same chair, looking as lost as she had when Casey had seen her earlier that week.

“Mom, look who I brought.”

She swiveled her head toward the doorway. When she saw Casey something in her eyes sparked, but when her eyes landed on Ricky, it was as if a fire had truly been ignited. She jumped to her feet and held out her hands. Ricky didn’t move, so Casey gently pushed him forward. Once he took the first step, his momentum carried him, and he threw his arms around his mother. They stood there for a long time, hugging and crying, until their mother raised her head and looked over Ricky’s shoulder at Casey. She took one hand from around his waist and held it out. This time Eric had to nudge Casey before she grabbed her mother’s hand and was pulled into the familial embrace.

Finally, her mother pulled away, face glistening with tears, and put one hand on each of her children’s faces. “All together. At last.” She smiled, and Casey felt something in her chest break loose and crumble.

“But,” her mother said, “there’s something missing.”

Casey closed her eyes. It wasn’t like she needed the reminder of why it had been so long. Of why she had stayed away from home. Of those finals moments of fire and smoke. Of the fact that her father was gone, as well.

But her mother looked over her shoulder. “This young man is standing all by himself over there. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Eric looked as surprised as Casey felt, but he recovered faster, and stepped forward, looking as pleased and nervous as a teenager meeting his date’s parents for the first time. “I’m Eric, Mrs. Kaufmann. I’m pleased to meet you.”

She beamed. “And polite, too!” She elbowed Casey. “Why haven’t we met him before?”

No one filled the awkward pause until Casey reached out her hand to take Eric’s. She smiled slowly, and shyly, but with conviction. “Because this is a new thing, Mom. There hasn’t been a chance before.”

Eric looked at her, disbelief in his eyes, until that turned to warmth, and a full-out smile. He squeezed her hand, and she smiled back, this time without hesitation.

Her mother broke the moment with a loud clap. “Now let’s do something to celebrate all these good things. Order out. What do you want, Ricky? You choose.”