“Ahhh!” Bailey threw her hands up and grabbed at her hair. “Johnny, you are such a—” She stopped herself and stood still, her eyes squeezed shut.
“It was a cop, Bailey! What was I supposed to do?”
“You were supposed to keep your trap shut to begin with!”
“Bailey.” Casey shut the girl up with a look. “Johnny, I need you to think hard now, okay? What did that cop look like? The one who came to your school?”
“I don’t know. Shorter than me. Blond hair. Old.”
“Old?”
“I mean, like your age. He had super green eyes.”
Owen Dixon. How had he tracked down Johnny and known about the shed? Probably the same way Casey herself had found out what the police were thinking—they’d gotten police reports. Or someone in the police had talked to them. Could Yonkers have that pull? Absolutely. He was on the town council in Sedgwick, and would have access to the police there. They would tell him whatever they could. He might have expressed interest in what was happening, and when this news came down the wire they contacted him. Or else he’d just asked.
Casey looked at the haggard group of kids. They were angry, sad, disappointed…and in danger.
“Okay, guys, listen,” she said. “You can’t go out to the shed again—”
“Never?” Terry wailed.
“—until this is taken care of. Until I am gone and the men are, too.”
“What men?” Bailey frowned.
“The ones who are after me. One of whom talked to Johnny at school yesterday.”
“One of—” Johnny paled. “You mean he wasn’t a cop?”
“No, Johnny, he wasn’t.”
Johnny moaned. “He wasn’t wearing a uniform. He said he was undercover, trying to help you without scaring you off.”
“I’m sure he was very convincing.”
“I’m sorry.” He sniffed again, and Sheryl patted his arm.
“I don’t blame you,” Casey said. “I’m the one who got you all involved. I just want to get you uninvolved until it’s over.”
“Oh,” said a voice from behind her. “I think it’s already over.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Run!” Death said.
Randy Westing stood smiling in the middle of the alley. Flanking him were Owen Dixon and Craig Mifflin, the man she’d knocked out first at Davey’s. Neither of them looked quite so pleasant. Behind them, expressions neutral, were the other two large men Casey had seen behind the grocery store.
Casey swiveled, shoving Bailey behind her, along with the other teenagers.
“You think you can save them all?” Westing asked pleasantly.
“You don’t want them. You want me.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Westing said. “They probably know enough to help us. Especially the one.”
“Hey, there, Johnny,” Dixon sneered.
Johnny moaned. “The cop.”
Dixon jerked his chin up. “Thanks for the tip about the phone. Led us right to her when she turned it on here a few minutes ago.”
Casey carefully didn’t look at Terry.
“Run!” Death said again.
But Casey wasn’t about to leave the kids in the hands of the men. Not that she had much of a chance of escaping, anyway. Behind her were two cars, a Dumpster, and a U of brick walls. The five men were spread across the alley, and even if she should get past one, the other four would be close behind. The only chance she really had would be the door to the pizza place.
“Bailey,” she said. “Take everybody into the restaurant.”
“But—”
“Go.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
Casey ground her teeth. “Martin?”
“Right. Come on, everybody.” He gently pushed Sheryl and Terry toward the building.
Johnny stood, stepping up beside Casey, his body tensed. “It’s my fault. I’m staying.”
He was a large presence, which was nice, but he’d only be a liability in a fight. Casey would have to spend all of her time either protecting him or worrying about him.
“Johnny.” Casey spoke without taking her eyes off of Westing. “The best thing you can do for me is to take Bailey and go inside. Please.”
“I told you,” Bailey said. “I’m not—”
Johnny picked Bailey up and swung her over his shoulder, trying to avoid her flailing arms and legs.
“Johnny! Put me down! I’m staying! She needs us.”
Westing laughed out loud. “She doesn’t need you, sweetheart. She needs something else. Like an army.”
Casey did have something else. Death leapt from the Dumpster. “I’ll do what I can.”
The back door of the restaurant slapped shut, and Casey was relieved to know the kids were inside, out of danger. “You realize they’ll call the cops.”
“Probably already have. That’s why we’ll make this quick.”
Death moved between Westing and Dixon, arms outspread to go through their chests. Both men shuddered, but kept their eyes on Casey. Death couldn’t take someone before his time, and Casey couldn’t depend on mere distractions to get her through this. She took a deep breath through her nose and readied herself for what was to come.
“So where’s Evan’s stuff?” Dixon growled.
“Easy now.” Westing’s voice was silky smooth. “She’ll tell us.”
And sign her death warrant. “It’s in a safe place.”
“I’m sure it is. Not on you, I’m afraid?”
“Not even close.”
“You had it with you when you went to see Bruce at the hospital.”
“I wanted his reaction. How is he, by the way? Will he ever walk again?”
Westing nodded. “Modern medicine, you know. But thanks for caring. It’s not like it’s the first knee injury he’s ever had. He’ll be fine. I suppose someone else knows where Evan’s information is?” He kept smiling, his pose casual. The other men, however, were ready, even with Death running fingers up and down their spines.
“The kids don’t know. They’ve never even seen it.”
Dixon frowned. “Of course she’d say that.”
“I think it’s the truth,” Westing said, amused. “The Cross kid didn’t know anything when he thought you were a cop. You did ask him about it, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did.”
Casey went cold, thinking how easily Dixon could have harmed Johnny.
Death stood beside Dixon, an arm around his shoulders. Dixon shivered, glancing around him.
“Boys,” Westing said. “I think we need to persuade this lady here to help us.”
Mifflin didn’t wait for the others, but came for Casey quickly and ferociously, head down, fists up. Casey dropped onto her right leg and lifted her left, flexing her foot. Mifflin ran right into it, expelling all the air from his diaphragm in a gush and bending over, hands on his gut. Casey planted her left leg and brought her right leg up around and down, axe-kicking him with her heel between the shoulder blades. Mifflin went slack, doing a face plant on the ground. He was out.
Casey turned to run for the restaurant door, but Dixon had already gone around to the back of her, cutting her off. She darted behind the second car, which gave her about four feet to move between the brick wall and the little Focus. Dixon grabbed for her neck with both hands. Casey grabbed his right hand, bent his elbow down into an arm lock, and smacked his face against the trunk of the car.
One of the other men climbed onto the trunk and kicked at her head. She ducked and grabbed his planted leg, pulling it toward her. He fell backward onto the car, half on, half off the trunk, his elbow cracking against the back window.
Dixon, blood running from his nose, reached over the guy’s leg and grabbed Casey around the shoulders, spinning her and knocking her face against the brick wall, bear hugging her from the back, trapping her arms. Dizzily, she kicked back at his shin, but her foot glanced off his leg. Dixon spun her around, kneeing her in the stomach. When she bent over, he pummeled her in the face with both fists.