“May I call you again?”
She licked her lips. “We’re leaving this afternoon.”
“On a job?”
“To Montana.”
Great. All of those people in danger on the road. “Drive safely.”
“Oh, we will.”
Not seeming to hear the irony in the exchange, Mrs. Halveston peeked around the book stacks and scurried out of the library.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The downstairs break room was empty when Casey walked past, so she went in and slathered two bagels with cream cheese, wrapping them in a napkin. She pulled a wrinkled dollar bill, left over from Wendell’s cache, from her pocket and stuck it in the tin designated for coffee money. She wasn’t yet so desperate she was ready to start stealing from libraries.
She stood just inside the library door. Where to go? She couldn’t go back to the shed. The men had seen her at Davey’s. She shouldn’t bother Wendell again—even if he wasn’t going to turn her in, one of his co-workers might begin to wonder what she was doing, hanging around.
“Tom Haab would probably let you use his computer,” Death said.
Casey jumped. “You enjoy that, don’t you? Scaring me?”
“Yeah. Sometimes.”
“Um, may I help you?” A woman with a library nametag stood at the far end of the hall.
Casey turned partway, hiding her bagels. “I was just leaving. Thank you.” She pushed out through the door and headed up the incline, away from the library and toward a side street. When she looked back, she could see the librarian watching her through the glass door.
Super.
“So how do we get to Southwest Trucking?” Casey tried to remember how Davey had driven. “It was a few miles west, wasn’t it?”
“Kinda far to walk.”
Death was right. And she’d been walking so much. For a moment she yearned for the old Schwinn she’d been riding back in Clymer just a few days ago. Old, but serviceable. And lots faster than walking. She sighed. “I guess I’d better get started.”
At least she had the bagels to eat on the way, which instantly gave her more energy. She pulled the seed hat out of the bag and pulled it low on her forehead, shielding her eyes from the sun and her face from observers.
About a mile out of town she heard a vehicle coming. The field beside her was harvested, and there were no trees anywhere within hiding distance.
“Steady,” Death said. “She’s already seen you, so there’s no point in freaking out now.”
The car pulled up alongside Casey and slowed to a stop. The passenger window lowered and the woman at the steering wheel leaned out. “Give you a lift?”
The car was an older model that probably should have been traded in as a clunker long before. Despite the rust spots, however, the car was clean both inside and out. The woman wore jeans and a plain blue knit shirt, and her hair was pulled back in a messy bun. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity in her tired face.
“Too interested?” Casey mumbled to Death.
“I’m getting in.” And suddenly the back seat was no longer empty.
“Thank you,” Casey said to the woman. “I would appreciate it.”
Once Casey was buckled in the woman glanced in the rearview mirror and continued on. “How far are you going?”
“Southwest Trucking. I’m not sure of the address, but it’s a few miles out this way.”
“Sure, I know them. In fact, it’s where I’m going. Makes sense, I guess. There’s not a whole lot else on this side of town.”
“Do you work there?”
The woman’s mouth tightened. “No. My husband’s done a little driving for them in the past.”
Casey kept herself from looking at Death. “And you live here in Blue Lake?”
“For now.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “What about you? You’re new to the area, I take it? Or just traveling through?” She glanced at Casey’s clothes, taking extra time with the second pink shirt Casey had had to wear. Casey wished she had a jacket to pull around her.
“Yes, just…traveling through.”
“And you know someone at Southwest?”
Casey did glance back at Death now. How much to tell?
Death shrugged and pulled out the bagpipe.
“Tom Haab,” Casey said. “I’m going to see him.”
“I know Tom. He started that company years ago, with his cousin, I think. Bob, my husband, grew up with them—I mean, he was a little older than Tom, but went to school with his older brother. They’ve done well for themselves. Bob says they’re good at what they do. He recommends them all the time, but then, that would have helped him get jobs, too, when he was still driving.”
Exactly what Tom had said was the best publicity—word of mouth.
“So do you know the other truckers?”
She shook her head. “Out of my circle. Bob didn’t drive for Southwest often—he had a full-time job at Snyder’s furniture, in Castleton? You don’t know them? Well, they…he got laid off last month.” Her mouth did that tightening thing again, pinching her lips together, making wrinkles in her face.
“I’m sorry.”
The woman waved her hand. “No, I shouldn’t be burdening you.”
“It’s okay. I just—I know a lot of people who recently lost their jobs. A whole plant shut down, and basically laid off the whole town with it. Really sad.”
“That would be. But this wasn’t the whole company. Just my husband.”
Casey winced. “No seniority?”
“Oh, he had that. But he’s also in the early stages of Parkinson’s, which means he can get a little shaky. They decided he was a risk, didn’t want to pay extra insurance on him, and—” she banged her hand on the steering wheel –“he was outta there. Nothing we could do.”
This was sounding awfully familiar. “You didn’t want to fight it?”
“Don’t have the money, and apparently there’s not a good enough guarantee we would win for lawyers to take the risk of getting paid on contingency. Bob can’t even get another job. With that diagnosis he’s certainly not going to be able to drive trucks—not that we would even put Tom in the position of making that decision.”
“So what are you going to do?” Although Casey already knew the answer.
“What else could we do? We’re moving back to my home, in Kansas City. My folks run a little hardware shop. They’re barely making it, what with Walmart moving in, but they said they’ll give Bob some work, let us move in with them until we get back on our feet. I sell jewelry—you know, I go to people’s houses, have parties where we sell to their friends—but there’s no way that can keep us going.” She smiled sadly. “Our daughter is threatening to stay here. Wants to live with one of her friends. But I can’t let her go, not yet.” Her eyes filled with tears, and Casey pictured Sheryl’s beautiful, angry face.
“I understand. You’re doing the best thing you can for your whole family.”
Sheryl’s mom sniffled and reached for the tissue box in the back seat. Just when she was about to grab it she jerked away and fiddled with the knobs on the dashboard. When she’d made sure the air conditioning was off she reached back again, and Death scootched out of the way so she wouldn’t come into contact. “Our son doesn’t mind moving so much. He’s not
