slot. Keeping one eye on the road as it flew by, she shook the map open. “Look for another route. We need to get this truck back to Tom before they catch us and know he’s involved.”
Death scanned the roads. “There. If we can find Route 96 we can maneuver around back toward Southwest. But where is that?”
“Okay, we’re going north. What’s that road there?” She pointed to a road sign.
“Jackson.”
“Is it on the map?”
“Too small.”
They passed several more roads until they came to one large enough to be listed. “Okay,” Death said. “Turn right here. Right! Here!”
Casey spun the wheel, knowing she needed to get her driving under control. She slowed. “Okay. How far on this?”
Death directed her until they found the road that would lead them back the way they needed to go. Not directly to Southwest, but at least in the vicinity.
Casey took several deep breaths and tried to slow her thumping heart. “So Dixon and one of the others are known to people at the nursery. They could be regular employees.”
“And Dixon seems just a little too close to one of the kids.”
“Tara.”
“No.” Death looked at her pointedly. “One of
“Right.” The reminder settled on her like a weight. One of that close-knit bunch had turned her in. She was going to see them soon, and have to determine which one it was.
“But he does seem a little too familiar with Tara,” Death said, shuddering. “He’s her
Casey agreed. “Any sign of him?”
“Nope. I’m pretty sure you lost him. In a very adept piece of driving, I might add.”
“It’s called desperation.” Her hands were shaking now, and she clenched the steering wheel. “We’re lucky I didn’t crash.”
“Are we? I thought you would be happy for that. You could’ve run right into a telephone pole, taken yourself out for good.”
Casey swallowed, her throat tight. “I could’ve.”
“But you have something to finish here.”
She looked out the side window.
“Why?” Death asked.
“Why what?”
“Why do you care so much about this? Why don’t you just walk away? It’s not like Yonkers stealing a few loads of this or that is going to change your life. It really doesn’t seem like big time crime. It’s not white slaves, or weapons, or even black market body parts. Now
Casey was quiet for awhile. “Evan entrusted this to me. I feel responsible.”
“There’s got to be more than that.”
There was. “Even if it’s not drugs or something it’s still destroying people’s lives. Evan’s. His family’s. All those truckers’.”
“But it’s their own fault they’re in this mess, isn’t it? Having affairs, avoiding child support payments, not heeding medical problems.”
“I know. But people are getting killed. And more will.”
“And you might get yourself killed in the process. Bonus.”
Casey didn’t say anything after that, and Death pulled out the harmonica. Somehow “Amazing Grace” fit the mood.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Casey circled around Blue Lake on lonely roads, watching intently for other vehicles. The few she came across made her heart beat madly, but none turned out to be anything other than unfamiliar drivers. She made it back to Southwest a half hour ahead of schedule and used some leaves to wipe off the license plate.
Tom answered his door, keeping it partly closed. “I have people in here,” he said quietly. “Figured you don’t want them to see you.”
“You figured right. I don’t know how… Thank you so much for all you’ve done.”
He took the keys, but kept his eyes on her face. “You okay? You look a little—”
“Just tired, that’s all. I’m fine. And thank you. Thanks again.”
He stepped outside, pulling the door almost closed behind him. “I asked around about a guy named Willie Yonkers.”
Casey paled. “Tom, I wish you wouldn’t—”
“I was discreet. Nadine, who you met yesterday, she hasn’t heard of him, and neither has anybody in my office. The only one who said the name was familiar was a driver who said he thinks Yonkers is a guy from up in Sedgwick, has a flower place. He’s taken some loads to and from there in the past, but not for a long time. He’d forgotten about him, actually, since he hadn’t heard from him for so long. Said Yonkers probably uses another broker now. So if he has something to do with trucking it’s merely as a customer.”
She’d just let them go on thinking that, wouldn’t she? “Great. Thanks so much, Tom. Now do me one last favor?”
“Sure.” He said it, but looked a little weary.
“Forget I was ever here and that the name Willie Yonkers ever passed your lips. Okay?”
He frowned. “You serious?”
“Dead serious.”
Death made an exasperated sound from beside the truck.
“So this is good-bye, then?” Tom said.
“I hope so.”
“Oh.” He hadn’t expected that. “And I should tell Dave—”
“To forget about me, too. Please. It’s for the best.”
Tom didn’t like it. “It’s going to kill him, not knowing how things turn out.”
“I think he’ll survive that. Let’s hope not finding out is the worst that happens.”
Tom glanced behind Casey’s shoulder, as if expecting to see someone there. “You’re scaring me.”
“Good. Keep yourself safe, okay?” She stepped back, turned, and walked into the woods.
“Very dramatic,” Death said, and played Taps on a bugle.
Casey trudged through the trees, toward the road. “I have to get a move-on. It’s time to meet the kids.”
“And have you thought about how you’re going to handle that?”
“Actually, I have. I think the guilty party will give it up.”
Death laughed. “You think she’s just going to volunteer the information? In front of her friends?”
“Or
Death didn’t seem convinced. “And this is all if you can get there in time. At this pace, you’re going to be late.”
“You know, I didn’t get my exercise in today.” Casey began running, thankful she had had a good lunch to sustain her. She wished she could have some of the pizza the kids were going to order, but she couldn’t get greedy.
By pushing herself, Casey was able to get to town with twenty minutes to spare. Students and parents were flooding from the stadium to their cars and downtown, so she assumed the game was over and the other kids would wait for Johnny before heading to the restaurant. Keeping her head down and wishing it were dark, Casey merged into the crowd and made her way toward the library and the alley behind it.
