Dying Echo A Grim Reaper Mystery - By Judy Clemens Page 0,87

better suggestion?”

“I think Wayne is the one who would know. He’s the one who visited the car. He saw the men, and he even knew a little about what Cyrus was up to, with the woodworking and everything. Betsy had her own stuff to worry about, being seventeen and pregnant. Plus, Wayne is Robbie’s dad. The man at the school might have thought Robbie knew something because of that.”

“But wouldn’t he just ask Wayne?”

“Maybe he did.”

“And Wayne didn’t tell us he’d talked to a man who just might have come back from the past and killed his old girlfriend?”

Eric shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But we won’t know what ‘it’ is unless we ask somebody. And I don’t know who else to ask.”

“Certainly not the cops. They don’t seem to know much of anything. Okay. You’re right. Wayne is the best option. Anyway, I hate to bother Betsy’s family again, what with Billy feeling responsible and Betsy blaming him.”

“She doesn’t—”

“Yes, she does. At least for now. Hopefully she’ll get over the fact that her teenager kept a secret from her. Just like your argument about Robbie and the Internet—I hardly think Billy’s the first teen to keep a secret from his parents.”

Eric laughed. “Hardly.”

Casey began walking again, this time headed for the Greers’ house. “Betsy’s sort of possessive about the whole event, don’t you think? Like Elizabeth was hers and no one else’s, except maybe Wayne’s. I’m not sure Betsy has ever really gotten over it, at least not completely.”

“The boxes were in the attic, not the living room.”

“True. But she is kind of freaking out, you have to admit.”

“Of course she is. A tragic event from her past has come back to haunt her. People have to move on from grief, but that doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten, and if it returns like this…”

Casey walked a little faster, and they didn’t speak again until they reached the Greers’ front door. A woman answered. She was short, with a plain, pleasant face, and hair that had obviously been dyed and styled at a salon. “May I help you?”

“Yes, is Wayne home?”

She looked behind them, like she was expecting someone else. “Who are you?”

“Sorry, I’m Casey, and this is Eric. We’ve been talking to him about Elizabeth Mann.”

Her face fell. “Why? She’s been gone for years. Since high school. And why would you talk to Wayne about it, anyway? She had lots of other classmates.”

Uh-oh.

“We’re talking to a number of different people, Mrs. Greer. Wayne’s name came up, and we thought we’d check in with him.”

She glanced back into the house, then said, “He’s not home.”

“Oh, that’s right, he’s at work, isn’t he?”

“How would you know that?”

“Your son. We met him at the motel and got to talking. He mentioned that your husband knew Elizabeth, so we thought we’d see what he might know.”

It was all true. Casey just hoped Wayne’s wife didn’t get too hung up on the actual chronology of when these things had happened.

Mrs. Greer gripped the doorframe. “They called me. His employers. He wasn’t home when I got here, so I figured he was at work, like usual. But he’s not there, either. They called, asking where he was.” She looked like she was going to cry, which was a look Casey was becoming far too familiar with in the past twenty-four hours.

“Any idea where he went?”

“I called his cell phone right away, of course, but he didn’t answer. I texted him, too. His family, his mom and dad, I mean, they say he’s not there, and I called the diner. He doesn’t seem to be anywhere in town.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Casey wasn’t sure of that at all, but it seemed like the thing to say. In fact, Casey was a little worried. It seemed risky for the murderers to come back to town again, but if they hadn’t found ‘it’ before, and they somehow knew that Casey and Eric had figured out Elizabeth’s identity, they might take their chances and return to see if there was new information. Wayne would most likely be one of their first stops.

“I don’t suppose Wayne has told you anything about something Elizabeth or her dad might have hidden back before he was killed?”

Her face got all pinched. “We don’t talk about her.”

“You never have?”

She put a hand to her forehead, like even thinking about Elizabeth Mann was giving her a headache. “We may have long ago, but I never knew her. Just heard about her. From everyone. I moved to town