“I’d rather not. Look at myself, I mean. As for going anywhere—I’m not sending you folks out to do my dirty work.”
“But why is it yours?” Martin got up from where he’d been sitting on the edge of Davey’s desk. “This isn’t really your problem, is it?”
“Told you so.” Death was back, leaning against the doorway. “You always get into messes that aren’t your problem.”
“I’ve made it my problem,” Casey said. “And dragged you all into it. I need to end it—to bring Willie Yonkers and his guys into the open. Otherwise we’re all in danger. They’re not criminal geniuses, but they’re greedy. That’s what makes them dangerous.”
“Yonkers doesn’t know me,” Wendell said. “I’m the only one, right?”
“He doesn’t know us, either,” Bailey said.
“But his buddies do.” Casey looked at each of the teenagers. “They’ve seen every one of your faces.”
“So what do we do?” Terry had been quiet until now. “We can’t exactly go marching into his house and steal his papers.”
“Why not?” Bailey asked. “He’s certainly not playing by the rules.”
“Terry’s right,” Casey said. “If we take things out of his office, they might not hold up in court.”
“Who cares about court?”
“I do. And you should. It’s how he’s going to get stopped and put away. And it’s how these truckers will get taken off the road for good, where they can’t hurt anyone any more.”
“So,” Terry said again, “what’s the plan?”
“We have to get the cops into his house.”
They all stared at her.
“You want to call the cops?” Martin said.
“No. You do.”
He jerked backward. “I do?”
“Aren’t you the one who’s got a girl inside the police department?”
His ears went red. “She gave me those reports. I don’t think I can get her to do anything else.”
“Martin.” Bailey tweaked his arm. “She is so in love with you she’ll do anything.”
“Ow! She’s not—she doesn’t work for them, you know. Her mom does.”
“But she knows all the cops and can steal you reports and stuff without getting caught.”
“She doesn’t have to take anything this time,” Casey said. “She just has to make a phone call. Think she’d do it?”
“A phone call?” Martin shrugged. “Probably.”
Bailey rolled her eyes. “Of course she would.”
“Davey,” Casey said, “do you think Tom would help us a little more, too?”
“Wouldn’t know why not. He was bummed you left him with no explanation.”
“Well, he should soon be happy then, because he’s about to understand it all.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“I still don’t like it,” Wendell grumbled. They were driving in his truck back toward Sedgwick, and the road seemed to be made of potholes.
Casey gritted her teeth, trying to hold her torso still. They’d propped her up with pillows to ease the bouncing, but so far it hadn’t helped a whole lot.
“I don’t like it, either,” Casey said, “but it’s the only way to keep those kids away, at least for a while.”
“For a few minutes there I thought we were going to have to tie them up and lock them in Davey’s garage.”
Casey gave a little laugh, but it hurt too much to continue. The kids and Davey were still back in Blue Lake, following up on various items, each—except for Terry—armed with a cell phone.
“Prepare to turn right in two miles onto Peachtree Lane,” Laura Ingalls Wilder said. She was also part of the plan.
“Almost there,” Wendell said. “You sure you’re up for this?”
“I have to be.” The painkiller was still in effect, dulling her senses, but she had more in her pocket, ready to take if the pain got to be too much to bear.
Wendell had the radio tuned to a country station to soothe his nerves, he said, and Death played along on a lap guitar from the space behind the seat. Casey was fighting sleep now, and the music wasn’t helping. She assumed Wendell would wake her if she fell asleep, but she was afraid her head would then be even fuzzier.
“Prepare to turn right in point five miles onto Peachtree Lane,” Laura said.
The road came up, the street sign bright in Wendell’s headlights, and they turned.
“Destination on the left in point-four miles,” Laura said.
Wendell cut the headlights and drove slowly past several homes on over-sized lots.
“You have reached your destination.”
Wendell drifted to the curb and cut the engine. “Wow. Talk about money.”
“Except he’s losing his,” Casey said. “He’s got a spot on the town council, his daughter’s homecoming queen, his son attends an excellent college, he’s one of the region’s top businessmen—he has to keep up appearances or he’ll lose all respectability. Or he thinks he will.” She looked at all the visible windows. “I don’t see any movement or light, do you?”
“Nothing. Do you think he knows you escaped?”
“I’m betting he doesn’t. The guys wouldn’t want to tell him. He’s still the star quarterback, and they’d be embarrassed to tell him they screwed up—again.” She looked at the dark yard. “Okay. He’s alone here. The other guys are too obvious to be here and us not know it.” She picked up Terry’s phone. “Think they’re still tracking this?”
“Did they see you give it back to Terry?”
“Don’t know. Maybe I’ll give them a call.”
“Wait a minute.” Wendell opened his door.
“Where are you going? Wendell, don’t.”
He put a finger to his lips and quietly closed the door before walking across the street to Yonkers’ house and disappearing into the shadows.
Casey glanced behind her, where Death had stopped playing. “Could you go with him?”
“I can’t do anything for him.”
“Just keep an eye out.”
“Your word is my command. Hold this.” Death tossed the guitar at Casey. It landed in her lap and disintegrated, sending pins of ice through her legs.
Several minutes later, Wendell and Death were back. “Nobody out there,” Wendell said, “and no movement in the house, or lights in the back half.”
Death shrugged. “All clear.”
Casey frowned at Wendell. “What if they had been waiting? Do you want to end up like this?” She gestured at her face. “Or what if you tripped an alarm and security shows up?”
“Somebody had to do it. Anyway, he’s definitely alone, and I stayed well away from windows and anything else that could’ve triggered anything.” He smiled at her. “Relax. Time for the show.”
Casey punched the number for Exotic Blooms into Terry’s phone. It rang several times before someone picked up. “Hello?”
“Westing,” Casey said. “Nice to hear your voice.”
“You… Where are you?”
“My phone’s on. Why don’t you see if you can figure it out? But just in case you can’t…think about who I need to talk to, and who you definitely don’t want me talking to. Be kind of embarrassing for me to show up on his doorstep unescorted, wouldn’t it?”
“What? You’re at—”
“See you soon, Randy.”
She hung up.
Wendell grinned. “You got your stuff?”
She clutched the bag with Evan’s information. “I’ve got it.” She dialed Sheryl’s and Bailey’s numbers, texting r u rdy. Bailey texted back almost immediately. Check. Sheryl’s text said simply, Yes. Casey tucked the phone in her pocket and carefully climbed out her door. Wendell met her at the front of the truck. She shook her head. “You’re staying here.”
He smiled some more. “No. I’m not.”
Casey glared at him. She could have taken him out so he couldn’t follow, but what would be the point? The whole idea was for no one else to get hurt, and it would be rather pointless if she did it herself. “Come on, then.”
He held out his arm and she grabbed it, realizing she might as well take help when it was offered.