Dying Echo A Grim Reaper Mystery - By Judy Clemens Page 0,107
something, anyway.
“I haven’t got a knife,” she said.
“Oh. That’s too bad.”
Flatt took a quick stride forward and jabbed toward her stomach. She sucked in her middle and rolled across the bed to the other side, but that trapped her between the mattress and the wall, and left Eric over on the other side with Flatt. Casey grabbed the pillows from the bed and flung them at Flatt. He batted them away, but she used those seconds to somersault across the bed so that she was on his far side. He lunged toward her, knife swinging sideways. Casey crouched and exploded upward, banging his arm with her left and following through with a jab to his face. She connected, and he stumbled back.
He recovered and moved toward Eric. Eric shoved Pinkerton between them. Pinkerton howled with anguish.
“Flatt!” Casey threw the TV remote at his face.
He ducked, then came back at her, knife raised. He swung the blade at her head. She blocked his arm with hers and threw herself into his stomach, shoving him back and to the side. He had a lot more heft than she did, so he didn’t go far, but it was enough to place him on the side toward the door, away from Eric. He fell to his knees, but was up instantly, rushing at her.
Casey grabbed the desk chair and swung it, cracking his knees and sending him face first onto the bed. Casey leapt on his back and grabbed the wrist of his knife hand. She drilled her knee into his back as he writhed, trying to turn over. He was so much bigger, so much stronger.
“Casey!”
She turned just in time to see that Danvers had awakened and was lurching toward her. Eric dumped Pinkerton on Wayne and ran forward, leaping over the chair. Flatt used the distraction to flip onto his back and yank his wrist from her hand. He raised the knife and thrust it down. Casey spun from his grip just as Danvers and Eric each lunged for her, and Flatt’s knife found its mark.
“No!” Casey screamed.
Everything froze, Casey staring at Flatt’s hand, that still held the hilt of the knife. Eric’s eyes were wide and staring, and Flatt gaped at what he had just done. Danvers’ mouth flapped open and shut, and then he fell face forward on top of Flatt.
Casey pulled Eric away, feeling frantically for a wound, but Danvers was the one the knife had found. Flatt yanked the knife from Danvers’ chest and came up off the bed, swinging for Eric’s back. With a roar, Casey hit Flatt’s hand with a roundhouse kick and knocked the knife from his fist, splattering Danvers’ blood over the bed and carpet. She followed up with a side kick, smashing Flatt’s nose, then a front heel, bashing his chin and tossing him back onto the floor. She was winding up for another when arms gripped her from behind, lifting her off the floor. She fought to get free, but it was Eric’s voice in her ear, saying, “Stop, Casey. You got him. He’s done. Stop.”
She batted at his hands, and he let her go. She rushed to stand over Flatt, but her last kick had knocked him out. Danvers lay on his back, gasping for breath, red bubbles foaming out of his mouth. Pinkerton lay on the floor by Wayne, holding his arm and crying.
Eric was right. They were done.
When Casey had regained her breath, she reached into Flatt’s pocket and pulled out Eric’s phone. He used it to call the cops. Within minutes they heard sirens.
Chapter Forty-nine
The door clanged open, and Ricky stood in the sunlight, blinking. Casey ran to him, taking him in her arms and squeezing him until she realized he wasn’t squeezing back. In fact, his arms lay at his sides. She stepped back, not letting go of his shoulders, and looked into his face.
“What now?” he said.
“Now you start over.”
He nodded once, and Casey led him to the car. She put him in the back and turned to Don, who had come to finalize the paperwork and see the whole thing through. “Thank you.”
He shook his head. “It was your doing.”
“But you believed in him. As you have in me.”
He frowned, and looked away. “I guess that’s my job, isn’t it?”
She held out her hand. “Don. Please.”
His nostrils flared, and he waited several seconds before looking her in the eye. “You’re welcome. For this.”