The Grim Reaper's Dance

could see…could see blood on the windows.” She fiddled with the computer’s mouse. “You think some other truckers had something to do with…the accident?”

“A company called Class A Trucking.”

“Class A? Never heard of them.” She keyed something into the computer. “Hmm. There. Tells all about them. Founded eighteen months ago by two men. Owen Dixon and Randy Westing.”

“No one else?”

Nadine glanced at her. “You’re expecting a different name?”

Casey thought back to Bruce, relieved when she mentioned Randy as being her boss. “Yes, but I don’t know who it is.”

Nadine searched the screen some more, but ended up shaking her head. “Nobody else here that I can see.”

“What about their business? Any problems?”

“Nope. Squeaky clean.” She frowned. “Almost too squeaky clean. You mean to tell me nobody’s made a mistake on paperwork or gotten a speeding ticket?” She wasn’t convinced.

“How far back does it go? Their whole history?”

“No. Only a couple of weeks, so this actually isn’t all that helpful. Now, you wanted to look at truckers, right? Tom could’ve helped you a little—there are Internet-based trucker databases, like truckersearch.com, that he could access, but to get the comprehensive list you have to have special circumstances. Matt’s a part-time sheriff’s deputy, so that’s why we have it. I can check pretty much anything you want.”

A cop? Davey hadn’t bothered to tell her that. Another cold sweat broke out along her scalp. She was going to have to take a shower every half hour the way things were going.

“You okay?” Nadine’s face creased with concern.

“Yeah. I mean…” She cleared her throat and tried to erase any guilt affecting her features. “That’s legal? For you to check on the drivers?”

“Sure.”

Casey had her doubts. “Okay, so how do we do this?”

“Give me a name.”

“Pat Parnell.” Might as well start with him.

Nadine punched it in, and Parnell’s photo came onto the screen, with more information than Casey thought anybody should be able to get about a person. Yet another reason for her to stay as far out of the system as possible—anybody who knew her real name would know everything.

Parnell’s likeness was from better times. He looked healthy, well-fed, and, if not supremely confident, at least comfortable with himself. The rest of the information was hard to read.

“So, what does it say about him?”

Nadine opened a new window and pulled up another database. “This is our own driver history. I thought his name sounded familiar. See, we used him a few years ago, even once early last year, but he’s been out of our system completely since then.” She flicked back to the official data. “Can’t find him anywhere. He might not be driving anymore. You think he had something to do with Evan’s death?”

“Not directly. He probably didn’t even know about it. How about Hank Nance?”

Nadine brought him up. “Same as Pat. Used to drive for us sometimes, now never. No traffic violations. Oh, here. Wanted for failure to pay child support.”

“That’s on there? Why?”

“Because he can’t drive across state lines. He does, he’s nabbed at weigh-in. Hasn’t driven for anybody for almost two years.”

“How about John Simones?”

Saying his name under her breath, Nadine put him into the computer. “He’s still driving periodically. Nothing regular. But I don’t see any outstanding warrants or indicators.”

“Mick or Wendy Halveston?”

Nadine made a face. “Don’t have to put them in. They won’t be current in the database, because Mick can’t drive. Everybody knows what happened two years ago. He can never drive again.”

“Because he had an accident?”

“Because he had a physical problem that caused the accident. Seems he has some kind of heart condition. Whenever he sneezed or coughed, or even laughed, he’d pass out. That’s what happened that day. He was talking on his phone, guy told him a joke, he laughed.”

Casey closed her eyes. That entire family had died because Mick Halveston laughed at a joke. No. They died because he was driving when he should not have been. And talking on the phone while he should’ve been driving. “Mick was fine? And his wife?”

“Brand new cab. Airbags, the whole bit. They were both in the hospital for a while, but nothing permanent.”

Like dying.

“Does Wendy drive?”

“Nope. Just liked to travel with Mick when she could. Guess they’ve had to find something else to do now. Maybe they’ve started a new brokerage.” She grinned. “Who else?”

Casey was trying to put it together. Mick Halveston could never drive again. But she had pictures of him with his truck, and talking to Westing and Dixon. So if he was driving, it had to be under one of the names from the manifests.

“Casey?”

“Oh, sorry. One more. Sandy Greene.”

Nadine put in the name, but came up blank. “You sure that name’s right?”

Casey dug in her bag and pulled out her papers, paging through them. “Here it is. Sandy Greene. Driver for Class A Trucking.”

Nadine re-typed the name, but again came up with nothing. She flipped to her own database, but he wasn’t there, either. “Can’t help you with that, hon. That’s it?”

“How about on the manifests. Can you try these names?” She handed Nadine the stack, and Nadine typed in the first name. Bradley Hess. Lots of information—no picture.

“Looks like Hess has been driving exclusively for Class A Trucking,” Nadine said. “Can’t see any reason we wouldn’t have used him. No traffic violations. No citations.” She shrugged. “Model driver. Let’s check out the others.”

It was the same story with the rest of them. Each one showed records going back only two years, just about the time the other list of truckers had disappeared from the system, and each one had only a black and white box saying “no photo available.” So Casey was right. Either Evan had stumbled onto a huge and unlikely coincidence, and these were all brand new drivers, or the other drivers had new names, and Evan had discovered them.

Casey looked down at her papers. What about Dixon and Westing? And the other thugs she had names for? She and Nadine went through them one by one, but none of them showed up in the system, except for Westing and Dixon, as owners of Class A Trucking.

“Can I get addresses and phone numbers for any of the truckers?”

“Sure.” Nadine went back to each man and printed out his information. “You need me to contact any of them for you? Hmm. This is strange. All of these drivers—” she waved at the manifests—“they all have P.O. Boxes. No home addresses. Anyway, want me to call ’em?”

“No, thanks. I’ll do it.” Casey evened out the papers on the desk.

“So, what do you think?”

Casey sat back. “I don’t know yet. It’s all so…nothing’s clear.” Except that they were driving under fake names. But why? With the disappearing Class A logos and the fake IDs there was obviously something going on— but nothing she could put her finger on.

“So, is there anything I can tell Matt about Evan’s death?”

“Not at this point. Not yet.” Casey hesitated, then said, “Nadine…”

“What, sweetheart?”

“It’s probably best if you don’t tell anybody I was here. Or that you helped me look these guys up.”