Casey was cold by the time Westing drove into the lot. She hadn’t been able to move, for fear Dixon would hear, and dew had settled on her, chilling her to the bone. She hoped the guys were just as uncomfortable as she. At least they could huddle with their arms around themselves.
Headlights swung across the space, and the SUV stopped in the middle of the pavement. Westing got out of the Explorer and looked around. Casey watched from the darkness at the top of the trailer, confident she was invisible.
“She’s not here,” Dixon said from his hiding place, making Casey jump. “We’ve been here an hour, and there’s no sign of her.”
Westing crossed his arms and leaned against the hood of his car. “Good. Now shut up or she’ll hear you.”
So they all sat back and waited for Casey to show up.
Death giggled. “This would be funny if it weren’t so stupid.”
Casey glared at her companion. She wasn’t laughing as her muscles cramped and she shivered against the metal.
Time ticked by. Nothing happened. Casey heard Dixon shifting now and then in the back, and could see three of the hiding men as they changed positions, trying to keep their feet from going to sleep as they squatted. Westing pushed off from the Explorer and marched forward, scanning both directions. He looked at his watch so many times it made Casey think of a little kid on a long car trip: Are we there yet? Are we there yet?
Dixon finally jumped down from his perch and walked into Casey’s sightlines. “She ain’t coming.”
Westing spun around. “Get back there! She’ll see you!”
“It’s been almost an hour, man. She stood us up.”
Westing turned in a circle, his arms rising, then falling. He let out a growl of frustration, slamming his hand onto the Explorer’s hood. “Damn it!”
Dixon crossed his arms. “Yonkers is gonna be pissed.”
“Don’t…”—Westing held up a hand, pointing at Dixon—“…make it sound like this is my fault. We planned this out together. Yonk okayed it.”
Yonkers? Casey knew that name. Why?
“Wasn’t blaming you,” Dixon said. “Just stating a fact.”
Westing rubbed his forehead. “Why didn’t she come?”
“Think one of the kids tipped her off?”
Casey tried not to react to the mention of the teenagers—assuming that is who Dixon meant. But who else would he mean? She wasn’t in touch with any other children.
“The kids don’t know. Just the one.”
Casey closed her eyes. One was enough to screw them all. But which one?
“She got the phone last night,” Westing said. “Where did she go?”
“Hey, Ballard!” Dixon barked the name toward the Dumpster. “Where did the woman go today?”
The man got up and walked out to Dixon. He was big, but not all of it was muscle. “Kid didn’t tell us about the phone until this morning, so we don’t got much. We found her up in McPherson—”
“Parnell,” Dixon explained to Westing. “He’s gone.”
Oh, no. Poor Pat.
“Then she went out toward Hutchinson,” Ballard said. “Figured she was paying a visit to Deerfield Trucking, but I don’t know what she would’ve found there. By the time we got there she was long gone, and the girl at the desk didn’t have any idea who we were talking about.”
“And after that?” Westing was practically foaming at the mouth.
“We lost her for a while. She must’ve turned the phone off. But we caught the signal later and traced it to the middle of a cornfield. Don’t know what she was doing out there, but we couldn’t find any sign of her or the phone.”
“And now?”
“She’s nowhere.”
Thank God she’d resisted the temptation to check the time. She didn’t know how tightly they could pinpoint the signal, but she’d been that close to ruining everything.
“So what do we do?” Westing said. “Now that you’ve lost her?”
Ballard stepped back, gesturing to Dixon. “It’s you guys’ call. Whatever you want.”
Westing turned on Dixon. “Well, Dix?”
Dixon shrugged. “Maybe she’ll get back in touch with Bruce. We’ll need to give him a message to pass on to her.”
“And the kid?”
“Said she meets with them every night—maybe she’s with them right now in the shed where she’s been staying.”
Casey breathed a quiet sigh of relief that the harvester had come to the field and she’d been forced to hide her bag elsewhere. But alongside the relief she fought a wave of sadness. Somebody in the little group of teens had given them all up. So much for solidarity.
“God, I hope we find her,” Ballard said. “My wife’s been seeing those ads for jewelry and won’t let me forget our twentieth is coming up.”
“Why do we care about your anniversary?” Dixon snapped.
“Yonk said we get this woman off our tail, payday will be coming soon.”
Dixon snorted. “He’s been saying that for the past six months.”
“Shut it,” Westing said. “Yonk’s good for the money. He told us it would take a while. That we need to be patient.”
“I’m patient,” Dixon said. “I’ve been patient for a year and a half.”
“So let’s go,” Westing said. “Catch this bitch before she has a chance to move again.”
“And if she’s not at the shed?”
Westing’s face was grim. “Then she’ll show up somewhere else. We’ll get her.”
The men climbed into Westing’s Explorer—it had to be a tight fit, even with it being an SUV—and drove away, their lights disappearing into the darkness.
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Death said.
“You think? We just found out these guys are expecting a boatload of money.”
“Big deal. Isn’t everything about money? I mean, yawn.”
“We also found out one of our kids is a rat.”
“I bet I know who it is.”
“With your Spidey-sense?”
“No, with my smart sense. You know Sheryl’s hated you from the second she saw you.”
“But she’s annoyed with all grown-ups. Would she help these guys, rather than me?”
“They’re badasses. She might like sticking it to you.”
Sheryl was the one Casey hoped it was. Otherwise she’d done a crappy job reading them. Not that she’d tried all that hard. She’d let her exhaustion, lack of resources, and…let’s face it…loneliness push her closer to the kids than she ever should’ve been. Besides, she liked all the others. Terry didn’t care much for her, but he would do what was best for Sheryl—which was getting Casey out of town fast without involving their little group. Johnny was too dumb, and he hadn’t been there when Casey had gotten the phone. Martin? Bailey? It hurt to think either of them would turn her over to the men. But whoever had done it, she couldn’t let the rest get caught.
“Think the guys have a tracer on the phone now?”
“Probably.”
“I’m going to have to risk it. There’s no way I’ll get out to the shed before the men.”
Death considered, and nodded. “You don’t really have a choice, if you want the kids out of there.”
But who to call? She turned on the phone, muted the sound, and texted Bailey.
Dont tel thm its me Get out of shed now Wil b in tuch l8er
She sent the message. “Think she’ll listen?”
“You know…” Death peered over her shoulder. “You’re getting the hang of the texting thing. Better spelling.”
Casey’s phone buzzed.
Why? Whr r u?
Casey’s fingers flew.
Just get out!!
“Speaking of getting out…” Death stood over her. “We should probably move on, now that you’ve turned on the phone.
Casey turned it off. “I wanted to make sure the men were gone before leaving.”
Death disappeared, and was back in seconds. “They’ve split. Nowhere within a three-mile radius.”
“You could look that fast?”
Death peered down at her disdainfully. “Are you forgetting who I am?”
Casey closed her eyes, and felt the weight of everything upon her. “No. I will never forget who you are.”
“Come on,” Death said. “Let’s go. Do one of those flips where you arch your back and end up on your feet.”
“How ’bout I get up slowly and painfully, like an old woman?”
“I guess that’ll work.”
She eased up, knees cracking, shoulder stinging. “Okay.” She sighed. “Let’s go find a traitor.”