Lillian cut Casey off outside the back door of The Nesting Place, a finger on her lips. She gasped at the sight of Casey’s face. “What—”
“I’m all right.” She was. She would be. “What are you doing?”
“They’re inside.”
Casey’s heart fell. They were here already? But where was the cruiser?
“I’m sorry,” Casey said. “I never meant to—”
“Shh.” Lillian pulled Casey’s arm, and Casey yanked it back, her hand grabbing her shoulder, her right forearm protesting the movement. Lillian let go, but gestured her further from the house, into the shadows. “You need a doctor.”
“No. No. What’s happening?”
Lillian raised her hands toward Casey’s mouth, but she reared away. Lillian dropped her arms to her sides. “Rosemary’s keeping them busy. I said I needed to go to bed, because I wasn’t feeling well.”
With her glinting eyes and upright posture, Casey could see that was far from the truth.
Lillian jerked a thumb toward the house. “They’re insisting on seeing your room.”
“My room? Why? It’s not like I’ve had time to—”
“I’m not even sure how they knew you were staying here, because I’m sure you didn’t tell them, but here they are.”
“Of course they know where I’m staying. Chief Reardon knew it the first time I talked to him.”
“Denny?” Lillian blinked. “But he’s not in our sitting room.”
Of course. Other cops. Detectives. Could be the FBI or ATF if Casey’s suspicions about the men who attacked her were correct.
“I don’t know who they are, exactly,” Lillian said. “But they seem to know a lot about you. Said they’re business associates of yours. Rosemary didn’t like them from the get-go, because the woman’s dye job is simply horrendous.”
Casey went cold. “Dye job?”
“Yes. Like she did it at home in a dark bathroom with a generic brand.”
Casey swallowed. “And she’s with a man whose face looks like—”
“—it was cut in half and smooshed back together by a extremely untalented sculptor.”
Casey sank to the ground. They’d found her. And she didn’t have to wonder how. That damn phone. Dammit, Ricky.
“I can’t…” Casey said. “I have to go.”
“But your arm. Your face.”
“Lillian. I have to go.”
Lillian stared at her for a few more moments, then sighed. “Okay.” She stepped behind a bush and pulled out Casey’s backpack. “I hope I got everything. There’s no first aid equipment.”
Casey’s eyes stung.
“Rosemary will keep them busy for a while,” Lillian said. “We told them you were out, but that we were expecting you back late. They seem to have settled in for the wait.”
Casey dropped her chin to her chest. “I wanted…I didn’t want…”
“I know, sweetheart.” Lillian squatted, knees popping, and laid an arm over Casey’s shoulders. “We’ll see you again. And whatever your trespasses, my dear, whatever it is you’re running from, we hope you’re soon running back.”
Casey swiped the tears from her eyes with a thumb and forefinger, and they came away, wet with tears and blood. She wiped them on her pants. “Tell Rosemary…”
“I’ll tell her, darling.”
Lillian stood and helped Casey back to her feet.
“The bike is there,” Lillian said, pointing to the side of the house. “It’s yours now, if you can…” She gestured at Casey’s arm.
“I can’t take your bike—”
“You can. You will. Go.”
A light flickered in the back room, and Casey jumped further into the shadows. Lillian waited quietly, but nothing else moved.
“Go, sweetheart,” she finally said.
“I never paid you.”
Lillian laughed quietly. “My dear, you’ve paid us in more ways than one. Now go.”
Casey hitched her bag onto her back, wincing as the strap scraped her shoulder, and stumbled to the bike. She swung her leg over the seat and rode quickly away from the house, not looking back, her right arm cradled against her stomach. She didn’t reach up again to wipe the tears streaming down her cheeks.