“Kinda spooky, isn’t it?”
Casey spun around, the beam of her flashlight impaling Death to the back door. Well, not impaling, exactly, as the light traveled through Death without any sign of actually hitting anything.
“You are impossible,” Casey hissed.
“No. Oh, well, maybe for you.” Death moved to stand by the chair where Ellen had died. “Such a shame, you know?”
“Yes,” she whispered harshly. “I know. Now are you going to help out here, or just be a nuisance?”
“Oh, you know me.” Death disappeared into the next room.
Casey moved slowly around the kitchen, hampered by the necessity for using the flashlight. She opened drawers and cupboards, checked the empty freezer, and sifted through canisters of flour and sugar, which hadn’t been removed with the rest of the perishable food. She discovered Ellen’s junk drawer and took some time going through it. Nothing but loose batteries, expired coupons, rubber bands, and lidless pens. No notes, photos, computer disks, or anything that could possibly be compromising or informative.
Confident she’d searched every possible hiding spot, she moved on to the living room. Death sat on the sofa eating a caramel apple, feet up on the coffee table. Casey took a moment to stand to the side of the window and peer outside. Nothing moved. The television still flickered at the neighbors’. No additional lights had been turned on.
Satisfied that her presence was as yet undetected, she began another search, this time under sofa cushions—asking Death ever so politely to please move—inside the TV console, inside DVD cases, and inside the pottery pieces on the decorative shelf. Nothing there, and nothing behind the curtains.
She stifled a yawn and glanced at her watch. Almost eleven. Not that late, but with the sleep she’d been getting it felt much later. She’d have to speed up.
With Death lurking in the doorway, crunching happily, Casey rifled through the medicine cabinet and detergent-scented linen closet in the bathroom. Nothing. She walked down the hallway, pausing at a child’s bedroom. A boy’s. Sports wallpaper, with a life-sized football player taking up most of one wall, and a Cleveland Indians bedspread. She stepped into the room. “Would a mother hide incriminating evidence in her child’s room?”
Death considered this. “Perhaps if it were something that wouldn’t explode, smell, or catch on fire. On second thought, forget the smell thing. Ten-year-old boys aren’t exactly odorfree.”
Casey decided Ellen wouldn’t have risked it, and left, thinking she could always come back if she didn’t find anything else. She was moving toward the bedroom at the end of the hallway when she heard a door open. She snapped off her flashlight and froze, glancing back at Death, who had, of course, disappeared. A light came on in the living room, spilling toward her, and she tiptoed backward, entering the bedroom. Her sight, having adjusted partially to the darkness with her use of only a flashlight, allowed her to see the layout of the room. Moving quickly but silently, she walked to the far side of the room and crouched behind the bed, her heart beating so loudly she was afraid whoever was out there would hear it.
Padding footsteps reached her ears, and she waited, holding her breath, as they came directly to the bedroom. The overhead light flipped on.
Casey blinked sudden sweat from her eyes and hunched even farther over her knees, trying to peer under the bed at the same time she tried to become invisible. The person hesitated in the doorway, but soon walked in, feet scuffing on the carpet. A drawer opened, and Casey could hear the person displacing clothes. A huff of disappointment, and then another drawer, followed by more searching.
The person went through four drawers before turning to the closet, fortunately on the other side of the room. Another light clicked on, and Casey listened to boxes being pulled from a shelf and opened, and hangers scraping along the pole as clothes were gone through.
Casey’s legs were cramping from her curled-up position, and she gritted her teeth against the pain. Why hadn’t she found a hiding place where she could stand up, ready to defend herself? As it was, she’d be lucky if her legs would hold her when she finally got up. This was no position from which to fight.
Taking advantage of the next exchange of one box for another, Casey slid her legs backward, so she was lying flat on her stomach. The cramps eased, and she winced as the blood began to circulate again. She placed her hands flat on the ground by her shoulders, ready to propel her upright.
The closet light went off, and the intruder sighed loudly. A man, Casey thought. The closet door shut, and the footsteps came closer to the bed. Casey tensed, ready to rocket upward. The bed sagged as the man sat on its edge. Casey longed to look up over the top, but he was so close. She held her position, trying to see his shoes under the edge of the comforter, in case she recognized them. All she could see was a dark heel. Nothing revealing.
The man sighed again, and the bed squeaked as he stood up. Casey squinted, trying to slide under the bed and at the same time see the shoes as he turned around. It was hard to tell, the fringes of the comforter disguising the shoes.
Suddenly, she was no longer looking at shoes, but at knees, and then a face as he looked under the bed. His eyes went wide and he fell backward, yelling and propelling himself toward the closet, crab-like.
Casey jumped up, her hands out in front of her. “Eric! I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
He stared at her, his feet splayed out in front of him, his back smashed against the closet door. His eyes bugged from his head, and he breathed in labored gasps. “Holy shit, Casey! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“I said I’m sorry. And I was pretty close to a heart attack myself.”
He pulled his knees up and looked down at his pants. “At least I didn’t wet myself. I don’t think.”
Casey circled the bed and sat on it. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes narrowed. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’m looking for what we didn’t find at the factory.”
His clasped his hands around his knees. “Yeah. Me, too. I knew where she kept things…” He gestured toward the closet. “But there’s nothing there but photographs and old love letters.” His face flushed, and Casey looked away, trying to spare him some embarrassment.
“And then,” he said, “I thought maybe under the bed. I didn’t get very far under there.” A smile flickered on his face.
“Yeah. Sorry about that.” Casey knelt down by the bed. “Nothing under here except these.” She pulled out a pair of fluffy blue slippers.
Eric’s face crumpled for a moment, but he regained his composure. “She liked those. Even wore them to rehearsal one time.”
Casey returned them and sat back on the bed. “So where else do we look?”
“Where have you checked?”
She recounted her path. “I didn’t check the kids’ bedrooms because I thought she wouldn’t hide anything there. What do you think?”
He considered it. “She wouldn’t if she thought there was any way it would hurt one of them. But…” He shrugged. “If it was a great hiding place…”
Casey stood. “Well, then, we’d better look.” She hesitated, then held out a hand.
He took it and pulled himself to his feet. “What if it hadn’t been me?”
She swallowed, not liking to think of Karl Willems or Chief Reardon discovering her crouched behind Ellen’s bed. “I don’t know.”
He nodded. “Come on, then.”
Working by regular light was much easier than by a thin flashlight beam. Riskier, too, but she figured Eric wouldn’t be getting in trouble for going through his old girlfriend’s house.
Each taking a side of the older child’s room, they went through the stash of clothes, toys, and books. Nothing. Casey reached just a little farther, into the back corner of the closet. Her hand wrapped around a carrying case. She brought it out and unzipped the cover.