Flowers for Her Grave - By Judy Clemons Page 0,36

at the window, gazing down at the pool, which shimmered in the dim light. Several apartments in the other two buildings had lights on, but most were dark.

Casey stared at Gomez’s back with a knot in her stomach. If she didn’t know better, it really could be Reuben standing there. The height, the build, the coloring, the accent. “Here you go.” She held out the bag, then dropped it to her side.

Gomez left the window and crossed to her. He hesitated after taking the bag. “You’re sure you’ll be all right?”

Casey stared into his dark eyes, wanting him to fold her into his arms, to whisper in her ear that everything was going to be fine. Wanting him to take care of her. To be Reuben.

“I’m fine. Thank you, Officer Gomez.”

“Manny,” he said. “You can call me Manny.”

She took a shuddering breath. Calling him by his first name would help absolutely nothing. It made him…even more real. Like a man, in addition to being a cop.

“We’ll be typing up your statement,” Gomez said. “And then we’ll need you to sign it. But I know Detective Binns wants you to get some rest first.”

Rest. Right.

“We’ll be in touch.” He touched his finger to his forehead and left.

Casey closed the door behind him, and leaned against it.

Coming to Florida was a bad idea, after all. A very, very bad idea.

Chapter Twelve

Forty-five minutes later, close to six, Casey went downstairs, having used that time to sit at her little dining table and stare into space. Already a crowd had formed in the hallway by the aerobics door, stopped from entering by the crime scene tape. The hum of curiosity cut off as Casey approached.

“I’m sorry.” Casey felt like she’d been apologizing for the past six hours. “We won’t be having class this morning.”

“Why? What happened?” A chorus of voices assaulted her, and she winced at the volume.

“I’m afraid there was…” What should she say? Telling them Andrea had been assaulted could cause mass panic. But anything else would be a lie. “I’m afraid your classmate, Andrea Parker, died over the night.”

Several of the women gasped, and one immediately burst into tears. They peppered Casey with questions, but she held up her hand. “Andrea was in the locker room, so the police need to finish their investigation here before we can use it again.”

“But why were the police here?” someone asked. “Was she murdered?”

Casey took a deep breath through her nose and let it out in a slow exhale. “They don’t know what exactly happened yet. That’s why they need the room.”

“But—”

Casey held up her hand. “I don’t have anything else to tell you. I’m sorry.”

“What about Krystal?” someone said. “Where’s she?”

“The last I knew she was at the hospital. She’ll be back soon.”

“Was she hurt, too?”

“No. She went to be with Andrea.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Too bad she didn’t die,” someone muttered, but when Casey tried to see who’d said it, there was no way to tell. All of the women looked everywhere but at Casey, making the entire group seem guilty.

“Well, she’s alive,” Casey said, her voice hard. “And I would think you’d want all of your classmates to stay that way. Now go back to your apartments, or wherever. We’ll be in touch when classes can start again.” She spun on her heel and marched away, back up the stairs to her own place. She slammed the door and stood in the middle of the room, unsure what to do with herself.

“Can’t blame them,” Death said from the sofa. “The woman does sort of suck all of the attention out of a room. You experienced it yourself, at the hospital.”

“But I didn’t wish her dead.”

“Not like you wish for yourself, anyway.”

Casey turned away and stomped to her bedroom, where she discarded her old shoes and dropped backward onto the bed, putting her arm over her eyes. “Good grief, it’s like high school all over again. Let’s all hate the pretty girl instead of focusing on our own screwed up lives.”

“Hmm,” Death said. “What if Andrea wasn’t the one who was supposed to die?”

Casey lifted up her arm. “What?”

“You just said it. Everybody hates Krystal, and they looked a lot alike. Andrea and Krystal, I mean. Same hair color, skin color, basic size. It was just the…well, you know…that was a bit different.” Death sketched an hourglass shape in the air.

“I thought it was Krystal lying there in the shower. It wasn’t until I moved her hair and saw Andrea’s face that

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