Dying Echo A Grim Reaper Mystery - By Judy Clemens Page 0,53
That was the reason she had her things back—Eric had followed the information on her driver’s license and returned her stuff to Ricky. He knew more about her than she’d shared with anyone else in the past two years. “And there aren’t any pictures here in your house. Not ones that I’ve seen, although I guess I haven’t seen every room.” He hadn’t seen the bedroom.
Casey looked away, just the thought of him in her bedroom making her hot. “Ricky took the photos out when he got the place ready to sell. Most people don’t want to see family shots on the walls of a house they’re looking at—they want to see the place as their own. So do you want to make the calls to these women?”
“What about your bag?”
“What about it?”
“Casey. You weren’t running from your husband. And you weren’t afraid for your son’s life. Why didn’t you have any pictures?”
“The question I’ve always asked.”
This time Casey didn’t jump when Death joined the conversation, standing along the wall and holding up a computerized frame with Casey’s family photo inside. It was informal, with Reuben in a Rockies jersey, Casey’s hair back in a messy ponytail, and Omar wearing only blue knit shorts over a bulky diaper. His chest was slick with drool, but his smile more than made up for it.
Casey looked away, focusing on the view outside the window instead of the squeezing of her heart. “Why do you think I didn’t have any?”
Eric didn’t speak for almost a minute. Neither did Death, which was practically a miracle.
Eric cleared his throat. “I can call. I’ve got the phone. Unless you wanted to?”
She shook her head.
He hesitated, his fingers on the keypad. “If none of these women are the right one?”
“We start over.”
“And if I do find the right one? I mean, find someone who knew her? Are we going to the police?”
“I don’t see how we could. We aren’t supposed to know her name.”
“I guess it would have to be anonymous.”
“They might not take it seriously then.”
His hand clenched around the phone and his nostrils flared, like he was trying not to throw it across the room. At her. When he spoke, his voice was measured, and quiet. “Why don’t I just see what I find, and then we’ll decide.”
“Sounds like a plan.” It wasn’t necessarily a good plan, but then, none of this could be placed in the ‘good’ category.
Eric began phoning Texas. When he reached an actual Elizabeth Mann he thanked her and hung up, saying he was looking for a different person, then moved on to the next one. Once he got a voice mail saying that that particular Elizabeth Mann worked for a place called Sunrise Technologies, and he should leave a message. He found the business, and then found the woman, so one more could be crossed off the list. He left messages with two others, one in San Antonio, one in a tiny town called Angus.
As Eric called, Casey grew increasingly restless, pacing the floor, looking in the empty cupboards, brushing at hard-to-reach cobwebs above the ceiling fan. Death ignored her and swiped at the screen of a Nook, proclaiming “A-ha!” and “Slice faster, nasty fruit slicer!” Finally, Casey left Eric waiting for return calls and went upstairs, where she put on her dobak.
“Seriously?” Death said from a seat on the bed.
“You know he’s waiting for me.” Her hapkido master.
“So what? He hasn’t called.”
“My answering machine isn’t hooked up.”
“So he could Facebook you.”
“On what computer? Do you see a computer around here? And even if you do, do you see me on social networks?”
“Fine. He could use his incredible mental telepathy and contact you, or maybe he could just transport you to the dojang.”
“He’s not a magician.”
“Could’ve fooled me. Anyway, if he’s that anxious to get you over there, he could…gee…come by and ask, maybe?”
“I’m not making him do the work.”
“Of course not. Because he’s a god.”
Casey laughed. “For heaven’s sake. Are you jealous?”
“Of what?” Death frowned. “You mean of the fact that he’s somebody you actually want to see? As opposed to your mother, Eric, the neighbors, photos? Or…even me?”
“You know there’s one situation where I would want to see you.”
Death’s shoulders sagged. “Still, Casey? You still want me to take you?”
She tied her belt tight around her waist and pulled her hair back, securing it with a band. “How many times do I have to ask?”
“But you have…” Death stopped, poking at the Nook in that way people do