knew of a problem with the latches?”
“Of course.”
But Casey had seen it again. That flicker in his eyes. “How long before?” she asked. “How long before had the first complaint come in?”
“I told you that was the first.”
“And would Yvonne say the same if I asked her?”
“Of course she would.”
Casey had seen the fear on Yvonne’s face. She would say whatever Karl Willems wanted her to say.
“The boy’s death is the real reason you’re moving the company to Mexico,” Casey said. “If it’s actually even moving.”
“What?” Eric’s voice rose.
“Your fath—Karl has his own reasons for escape, don’t you, Karl? How do we know the company’s not simply going to cease to exist?”
Eric looked back and forth from Casey to Willems. Willems met his gaze defiantly.
“Dad,” Eric said. “What did you do?”
“Nothing. I did nothing.”
“Yes, Karl,” Casey said. “That’s exactly what you did.” She pulled the second contract from the folder and handed it to Eric. “Take a look at this, Eric. See everything your father didn’t do.”
Karl made to get up, but Casey stepped forward, crowding him back onto his chair. “You,” she said. “Sit.”
He sank into the leather seat. “It wasn’t my fault. They had no right—”
“Shut up, Karl.” Rage burned behind Casey’s eyes. It wasn’t my fault. I had no way of knowing such a little thing could cause such an accident. Who would’ve thought those complaints about the faulty fuel pump could have told us more? Don’t blame me, Casey, blame Pegasus if you have to blame someone. How was I to know? I’m just an employee, I do what I’m told…
“You’re the leader, Karl,” Casey said. “The Chief Executive. You’re supposed to protect the little guy. The employees. Your customers. Little boys who see a dryer as a good hiding place. If nothing else, you should’ve protected your company.”
“The company? What do they care? They would’ve hung me out to dry in a heartbeat.”
“So you decided to make this entire town pay in your place?”
Eric cried out, and Casey looked at him, keeping her position over Karl.
Eric held out the paper. “You knew? You knew there was a problem with the latches. How many complaints had you gotten? Four? Half a dozen?”
Karl waved a hand. “It was a door latch, for God’s sake. A door latch. Not the heating element. Nothing electrical. Who would’ve thought some kid would be dumb enough to crawl inside? And that his mother wouldn’t even notice? What kind of a mother is that? A poor excuse for one, if you ask me.”
“And Ellen?” Eric’s voice cracked. “She found out about this. About the boy. Did you kill her, too?”
Karl’s eyes sparked. “I didn’t kill anybody. Not the boy, and certainly not Ellen. What am I going to do, go to her house and force her to OD on her own sleeping pills? Grow up, Eric. Grow up and see that she’s the one who did it. Your perfect angel Ellen killed herself. It wasn’t anybody else’s fault. Not yours. Not HomeMaker’s. And it certainly wasn’t mine.”
Casey leaned over and jabbed the pressure point at the back of Karl’s jaw. His eyes widened, and she thrust her arm against the side of his neck, cutting off his carotid artery. He slumped over in his chair, but she kept the pressure on.
“Casey!” Eric leapt forward. “What did you do? Is he—”
“He’s fine. He’ll wake up as soon as I take off the pressure.”
“But…but how are you doing that?”
Casey sighed heavily. “It’s not hard.” She rubbed her free hand over her forehead. “I just…I needed him to stop talking.”
Eric glanced down at his father, whose head lolled onto his chest, his mouth slack. “Well, he did.”
“And now,” Casey said, glancing at the broken door. “We need to leave.”
Chapter Forty-Three
They didn’t bother trying to avoid the cameras this time, as they only had half a minute, at the most, until Karl would wake up. He would be disoriented, which would give them a little more time, but he would soon remember everything that had happened, and be after them with a vengeance.
Casey kept her eye out for the security guards, in case they hadn’t gone back to their posts as ordered, but none appeared. Casey and Eric didn’t wait around. They ran straight out the front doors and through the parking lot to the neighboring property, where they found and pulled on their dark sweaters.
Once they’d gone a couple of blocks Eric stopped, bending over and putting his hands on his knees. “I’ve gotta stop, Casey. I’m not made for this.”
Casey grabbed his elbow and pulled him upright. “Not here, Eric. We have to keep moving.”
With a groan he followed her back the way they had come from town. Casey led him silently through yards and alleys, until they were a couple of streets from his home. Casey’s arms were beginning to hurt again. Time for a few more ibuprofen. She wished she’d brought more pills from Eric’s house. She pulled down the collar of her sweater and glanced at her shoulder. Spots of blood had leaked through her bandage, onto her shirt. Her lip throbbed, and her head ached.
Knowing it was out of the question to go back into Eric’s house, Casey found a dark patch at the back corner of someone’s yard and pulled Eric into the shadow.
Eric heaved a sigh. “He knew. He could’ve kept that boy from dying.”
“Yes.”
Eric closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “He was more worried about money. As usual. It would’ve been expensive to recall the door latches and replace them. Expensive and bad PR.”
Casey nodded. He was right. “Karl also could be held personally liable. If he knew about the defective part and didn’t stop the production, it could all be put on him. HomeMaker could argue that it was all his fault.”
Eric clenched his jaw. “So he gave the company up?”
“Looks that way. It was either close down the company, or he’d get all the blame. Probably go to jail. He made a separate agreement with the family, to protect himself.”
Eric looked at her, his expression one of sorrow, and resignation. “So what now?”
She arched her back, wincing at the pain in her kidney, and looked up at the sky, stars twinkling through the leaves of the tree above her. She was tired. She was confused. She needed stitches.
Eric spoke quietly. “At least Karl didn’t kill Ellen.”
“He says.”
“I believe him.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do, too.” It had been in his eyes.
“You should leave, Casey.”
She turned her head to look at Eric, but saw only the back of his head as he stood facing away from her, his arms crossed over his chest.
“You should take my car and start driving. Get far away.”
He was right, of course. She should leave Clymer, with all of its problems, and all of its goodness, behind. Right that moment.
“I can’t, Eric.”
“Why not?”
“But why?”
