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.
Eric sank down onto Karl’s desk, his shoulders slumping.
Casey stayed standing. “You’re sticking to the story that the company needs to move because of the union’s demands?”
“It’s not a story.”
“Maybe not.” She held up the folder. “But this isn’t a story, either. At least, it’s not a fabricated one.”
He hesitated. “That has nothing to do with—”
“A little over a year ago,” Casey said. “One of HomeMaker’s dryers killed someone. A child. Why wasn’t there a lawsuit?”
Karl shrugged again. “HomeMaker wasn’t at fault.”
“Wasn’t it?”
“Well, ultimately it could be seen to be. But it’s not like HomeMaker purposefully put out a dangerous product. The mother was just as responsible.”
Casey’s breath caught in her chest, and she forced herself not to smack him. “Was this the first time you knew of a problem with the latches?”
“Of course.”
But Casey had seen it again. That flicker in his eyes. “How long before?” she asked. “How long before had the first complaint come in?”
“I told you that was the first.”
“And would Yvonne say the same if I asked her?”
“Of course she would.”
Casey had seen the fear on Yvonne’s face. She would say whatever Karl Willems wanted her to say.
“The boy’s death is the real reason you’re moving the company to Mexico,” Casey said. “If it’s actually even moving.”
“What?” Eric’s voice rose.
“Your fath—Karl has his own reasons for escape, don’t you, Karl? How do we know the company’s not simply going to cease to exist?”
Eric looked back and forth from Casey to Willems. Willems met his gaze defiantly.
“Dad,” Eric said. “What did you do?”
“Nothing. I did nothing.”
“Yes, Karl,” Casey said. “That’s exactly what you did.” She pulled the second contract from the folder and handed it to Eric. “Take a look at this, Eric. See everything your father didn’t do.”
Karl made to get up, but Casey stepped forward, crowding him back onto his chair. “You,” she said. “Sit.”
He sank into the leather seat. “It wasn’t my fault. They had no right—”
“Shut up, Karl.” Rage burned behind Casey’s eyes. It wasn’t my fault. I had no way of knowing such a little thing could cause such an accident. Who would’ve thought those complaints about the faulty fuel pump could have told us more? Don’t blame me, Casey, blame Pegasus if you have to blame someone. How was I to know? I’m just an employee, I do what I’m told…
“You’re the leader, Karl,” Casey said. “The Chief Executive. You’re supposed to protect the little guy. The employees. Your customers. Little boys who see a dryer as a good hiding place. If nothing else, you should’ve protected your company.”
“The company? What do they care? They would’ve hung me out to dry in a heartbeat.”
“So you decided to make this entire town pay in your place?”
Eric cried out, and Casey looked at him, keeping her position over Karl.
Eric held out the paper. “You knew? You knew there was a problem with the latches. How many complaints had you gotten? Four? Half a dozen?”
Karl waved a hand. “It was a door latch, for God’s sake. A door latch. Not the heating element. Nothing electrical. Who would’ve thought some kid would be dumb enough to crawl inside? And that his mother wouldn’t even notice? What kind of a mother is that? A poor excuse for one, if you ask me.”
“And Ellen?” Eric’s voice cracked. “She found out about this. About the boy. Did you kill her, too?”
Karl’s eyes sparked. “I didn’t kill anybody. Not the boy, and certainly not Ellen. What am I going to do, go to her house and force her to OD on her own sleeping pills? Grow up, Eric. Grow up and see that she’s the one who did it. Your perfect angel Ellen killed herself. It wasn’t anybody else’s fault. Not yours. Not HomeMaker’s. And it certainly wasn’t mine.”
Casey leaned over and jabbed the pressure point at the back of Karl’s jaw. His eyes widened, and she thrust her arm against the side of his neck, cutting off his carotid artery. He slumped over in his chair, but she kept the pressure on.
“Casey!” Eric leapt forward. “What did you do? Is he—”
“He’s fine. He’ll wake up as soon as I take off the pressure.”
“But…but how are you doing that?”
Casey sighed heavily. “It’s not hard.” She rubbed her free hand over her forehead. “I just…I needed him to stop talking.”
Eric glanced down at his father, whose head lolled onto his chest, his mouth slack. “Well, he did.”
“And now,” Casey said, glancing at the broken door. “We need to leave.”