Casey circled around Blue Lake on lonely roads, watching intently for other vehicles. The few she came across made her heart beat madly, but none turned out to be anything other than unfamiliar drivers. She made it back to Southwest a half hour ahead of schedule and used some leaves to wipe off the license plate.
Tom answered his door, keeping it partly closed. “I have people in here,” he said quietly. “Figured you don’t want them to see you.”
“You figured right. I don’t know how… Thank you so much for all you’ve done.”
He took the keys, but kept his eyes on her face. “You okay? You look a little—”
“Just tired, that’s all. I’m fine. And thank you. Thanks again.”
He stepped outside, pulling the door almost closed behind him. “I asked around about a guy named Willie Yonkers.”
Casey paled. “Tom, I wish you wouldn’t—”
“I was discreet. Nadine, who you met yesterday, she hasn’t heard of him, and neither has anybody in my office. The only one who said the name was familiar was a driver who said he thinks Yonkers is a guy from up in Sedgwick, has a flower place. He’s taken some loads to and from there in the past, but not for a long time. He’d forgotten about him, actually, since he hadn’t heard from him for so long. Said Yonkers probably uses another broker now. So if he has something to do with trucking it’s merely as a customer.”
She’d just let them go on thinking that, wouldn’t she? “Great. Thanks so much, Tom. Now do me one last favor?”
“Sure.” He said it, but looked a little weary.
“Forget I was ever here and that the name Willie Yonkers ever passed your lips. Okay?”
He frowned. “You serious?”
“Dead serious.”
Death made an exasperated sound from beside the truck.
“So this is good-bye, then?” Tom said.
“I hope so.”
“Oh.” He hadn’t expected that. “And I should tell Dave—”
“To forget about me, too. Please. It’s for the best.”
Tom didn’t like it. “It’s going to kill him, not knowing how things turn out.”
“I think he’ll survive that. Let’s hope not finding out is the worst that happens.”
Tom glanced behind Casey’s shoulder, as if expecting to see someone there. “You’re scaring me.”
“Good. Keep yourself safe, okay?” She stepped back, turned, and walked into the woods.
“Very dramatic,” Death said, and played Taps on a bugle.
Casey trudged through the trees, toward the road. “I have to get a move-on. It’s time to meet the kids.”
“And have you thought about how you’re going to handle that?”
“Actually, I have. I think the guilty party will give it up.”
Death laughed. “You think she’s just going to volunteer the information? In front of her friends?”
“Or he. We don’t know it’s Sheryl. But I think whoever it is is going to be very surprised to see me, thinking the men will have gotten to me by now.”
Death didn’t seem convinced. “And this is all if you can get there in time. At this pace, you’re going to be late.”
“You know, I didn’t get my exercise in today.” Casey began running, thankful she had had a good lunch to sustain her. She wished she could have some of the pizza the kids were going to order, but she couldn’t get greedy.
By pushing herself, Casey was able to get to town with twenty minutes to spare. Students and parents were flooding from the stadium to their cars and downtown, so she assumed the game was over and the other kids would wait for Johnny before heading to the restaurant. Keeping her head down and wishing it were dark, Casey merged into the crowd and made her way toward the library and the alley behind it.
“Hey! Wait!”
Casey stiffened. Two teenage boys, laughing, ran past her, knocking her sideways into a young mother with a stroller. Casey made her apologies and watched as the boys caught up with the girls they were chasing. Would she ever be free of worry that someone would find her? Cops or Pegasus or her family? Or Yonkers and his men?
Angling away from the stream of people, Casey walked through the library parking lot and down the alley. The backs of the buildings had signs with the names of the businesses, and Casey stopped at Luciano’s Pizzeria. A Dumpster sat at the side, and Casey slipped into the shadows behind it. From her vantage point she could see only a short stretch of the alley coming up toward the restaurant, and nothing in the other direction, both of which made her uncomfortable. The rest of the little area behind the restaurant—room for two parked cars, plus the Dumpster—was full-up.
“Anyone coming?”
Death perched on top of the Dumpster, playing an African drum with a steady beat. “Nope. Hope Bailey can convince the others to come this way.” Thump. Thump.
“I’m not worried about her. What about the other direction?”
“Nada. Well, some woman’s emptying out her trunk, donating things to the little thrift store, but she looks like she’s about eighty. “ Thump. Thump. “I don’t think she’s a threat.”
“Can you stop with the drum? I can’t hear footsteps if you’re doing that.”
“You just aren’t a music lover, are you?”
“Shh.” Voices were coming down the alley. Young, loud voices.
Casey made out Sheryl’s words first. “It’s creepy back here. I don’t know why we can’t just go in the front, like normal people.”
“We’ve never come this way before.” Johnny. “How do we even know which place is the right one?”
“Signs, Johnny, see?” Martin. “They tell you which store it is.”
“Oh. Never noticed that.”
“We’ll miss the crowd this way,” Bailey said. “Someone said we ought to try it.”
“Who said that?” Sheryl again. Pouty.
“I did.” Casey stepped out from behind the Dumpster.
Sheryl shrieked and grabbed onto Terry’s arm. Terry had been startled, too, but mostly looked pleased that Sheryl was touching him. Martin laughed out loud. Bailey surveyed her friends with narrowed eyes.
And Johnny looked terrified.
“What are you d-doing here?” His head whipped back and forth, as if he expected to see someone else—someone he didn’t necessarily want to see.
Oh, Johnny. Casey met Death’s eyes, and Death shrugged helplessly.
“We can’t meet at the shed anymore.”
“Why not?” Martin sounded surprised.
“Somebody else knows I’ve been staying there, and it would be better if they didn’t find me. Or you.”
“Who knows?” Martin asked. “Who told them?”
“Also,” Casey said, ignoring his questions, “I wanted to return this to Terry.” Casey held the phone out. “Seems I can’t use it anymore.”
“It’s dead?” Terry took it and pushed the power button. “I just charged it before I gave it to you.”
“No, it’s not dead. But I have a feeling I was supposed to be.”
“No,” Johnny breathed. “No, they said—”
Bailey’s mouth dropped open. “Johnny?”
“What is it?” Sheryl said. “What’s going on?”
Casey was going to try to keep things calm and ask Johnny to explain, but Bailey stepped up and punched him in the arm. “How could you?”
“Whoa, whoa.” Martin grabbed Bailey around the waist, barely avoiding the fist she re-aimed at Johnny. “What’s going on here? What did Johnny do?”
Tears overflowed Bailey’s eyes, and she shoved away from Martin, stalking several feet away.
Casey gave a grim smile. “You want to explain to them, Johnny? And tell us just how much danger we’re all in?”
“We’re not…I mean they’re not…” He stopped, looking miserable.
“Johnny,” Martin said. “What did you do?”
Johnny stepped back so he was against the brick wall of the building and sank to the ground, his head in his hands.
“Johnny, come on!” Terry stepped closer, his phone in his fist, as if he were going to throw it as his friend.
“Guys, stop.” Sheryl pushed past them both and hunkered down beside Johnny. Her expression was surprisingly gentle. “Johnny, what happened? It’s okay. You can tell us.”
Johnny raised his head and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I didn’t mean to…I just wanted…”
Sheryl put a hand on his knee. “It’s okay, honey. Tell us.”
Bailey had come back to the circle, but stood apart from the others, her arms crossed tightly over her stomach. She stared at the ground, but Casey knew she was listening to every word.
“My dad,” Johnny said. “He was talking about this lady that ran away from the hospital. I mean, the other doctor was talking about her. About you.” He glanced up at Casey, and then quickly away. “He said this other doc was checking you out and you took off. The doctor was worried about you—that you were hurt—and then he thought he saw you back at the hospital, but you didn’t stop. I told Dad he didn’t have to worry, because you were fine.”
Casey closed her eyes and gave a small, humorless laugh. Poor Johnny. He just wasn’t too bright.
“Johnny, you idiot!” Terry said. “Can you not keep a secret for two seconds?”
“Terry!” Sheryl’s voice was sharp. “He didn’t do it on purpose. It slipped out.”
“Maybe. But what did you do next?”
Johnny sniffed. “I didn’t do anything. My dad about jumped down my throat asking what I meant and where I’d seen you, and…and he threatened to ground me for two months if I didn’t tell him. Two months!” He looked up at his friends. “I wouldn’t be able to see you guys forever! All I would be able to do would be go to school and football.” He shuddered. “Can’t you see? I had to tell him! Because what if…” He glanced at Casey. “What if it was true, what Sheryl said that first night? That she’s bad?”
Bailey growled. “What did you tell him, Johnny?”
He swallowed. “That I’d seen her. That she was hiding out in your shed and we were helping her.”
Bailey’s nostrils flared, but it was Martin who said bleakly, “You gave up our place, John. We can never go there again.”
“Of course you can,” Sheryl snapped. “It’s not like this is going to go on forever. She’ll leave, and we’ll go back to doing what we always do. Or, you guys will, since I’ll be in freaking Timbuktu.”
“But they know,” Terry said. “They know about the shed.”
“Just my dad,” Johnny said. “He’s the only one.”
Casey clicked her tongue. “Really, Johnny? Is he really the only one?”
Silence hung in the air.
“Who else, Johnny?” Bailey’s voice was flat.
“Well…” He looked at his hands. “Dad made me tell Dr. Shinnob, who wanted to know all about how you were looking. He said he wasn’t going to come after you, because it was your choice and all whether you came in. But then…” He stopped.
“Johnny,” Bailey said.
“Dad made me go to the cops.”
“The cops?” Casey said, her voice louder than she’d intended.
“Yeah. He said you were wanted for questioning, so I needed to tell them what I knew.”
“When was this?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“After I got those reports,” Martin said.
“And you told them what, exactly?” Casey asked. “It’s important.”
He chewed his lip. “Well, where you were staying, like I said. That’s really all I knew.”
It could’ve been worse. But how had Dixon and Westing found out about the phone?
“Oh,” Johnny said. “I forgot. A cop came up to me at school, said you weren’t at the shed. He wondered where else you could be. I said I didn’t know, but he should just try—” he looked at Bailey, fear in his eyes “—that he should just try calling you, because you were…you were using Terry’s phone.”
“Ahhh!” Bailey threw her hands up and grabbed at her hair. “Johnny, you are such a—” She stopped herself and stood still, her eyes squeezed shut.
“It was a cop, Bailey! What was I supposed to do?”
“You were supposed to keep your trap shut to begin with!”
“Bailey.” Casey shut the girl up with a look. “Johnny, I need you to think hard now, okay? What did that cop look like? The one who came to your school?”
“I don’t know. Shorter than me. Blond hair. Old.”
“Old?”
“I mean, like your age. He had super green eyes.”
Owen Dixon. How had he tracked down Johnny and known about the shed? Probably the same way Casey herself had found out what the police were thinking—they’d gotten police reports. Or someone in the police had talked to them. Could Yonkers have that pull? Absolutely. He was on the town council in Sedgwick, and would have access to the police there. They would tell him whatever they could. He might have expressed interest in what was happening, and when this news came down the wire they contacted him. Or else he’d just asked.
Casey looked at the haggard group of kids. They were angry, sad, disappointed…and in danger.
“Okay, guys, listen,” she said. “You can’t go out to the shed again—”
“Never?” Terry wailed.
“—until this is taken care of. Until I am gone and the men are, too.”
“What men?” Bailey frowned.
“The ones who are after me. One of whom talked to Johnny at school yesterday.”
“One of—” Johnny paled. “You mean he wasn’t a cop?”
“No, Johnny, he wasn’t.”
Johnny moaned. “He wasn’t wearing a uniform. He said he was undercover, trying to help you without scaring you off.”
“I’m sure he was very convincing.”
“I’m sorry.” He sniffed again, and Sheryl patted his arm.
“I don’t blame you,” Casey said. “I’m the one who got you all involved. I just want to get you uninvolved until it’s over.”
“Oh,” said a voice from behind her. “I think it’s already over.”