Dying Echo A Grim Reaper Mystery

chapter Twenty

“I don’t want to talk to you!” Casey stomped down the hallway toward the waiting room.

“It’s not my fault he could see me!”

“That’s my little brother!”

“Who is not a kid anymore, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Casey stopped to get herself together before having to appear normal in front of Eric. She was just glad the guard had left her after the second barred door so she had a chance to let off some steam.

Death pointed back toward Ricky. “He’s been through a lot, Casey. The woman he loved is dead. Tortured and dead. It wasn’t an accident. Do you really think he’s immune to guilt?”

“Guilt shouldn’t mean he’s not afraid of you.”

“Who are you kidding? Guilt has been making you want to die for the past two years.”

“It’s not guilt.”

“No? Then what is it?”

Casey went quiet.

“Well?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Right. Because there’s nothing else to say. You want to die because you feel guilty. You know that line you gave Ricky about bad things happening even when you know someone well? It’s about time you believed that yourself.”

“It’s not…what about grief? Remember that? How people feel sad when they lose their husbands? Their children?”

“Oh, please. If everyone who lost a loved one suddenly became fearless, the entire world would see me 24/7. I would no longer be, as they say, rare and exotic.”

“Exotic, my ass. More like a disease.”

“Whatever. No matter what you think, what you’re dealing with is not grief. Or not solely grief. It’s guilt.”

Casey gritted her teeth. “So what am I feeling guilty about, exactly? I didn’t build the car that killed my family. Pegasus hadn’t been in the national news, so I didn’t know about the mechanical issues. I wasn’t even driving.”

“So you think your guilt should only come if the accident was your fault?”

“What else would I be feeling guilty about?”

Death gave a short laugh. “You really are as sharp as mashed potatoes.”

“What? Wait! Where are you—”

Death disappeared through the waiting room door, waving serenely, like a 4-H dairy queen.

Casey whipped the door to the waiting room open, ready to pounce on Death and demand an answer. Several people close by jumped and instinctively grabbed their purses and children. The guard at the front desk stood, hand on his holster. Casey froze, arms half-raised. “It’s okay. It’s all right. I’m just…upset. That’s all.”

Eric stood in front of her, shielding her from the rest of the room, like he’d done at the restaurant only an hour before. “You okay?”

Casey took a shuddering breath that felt more like a sob. “No. I’m really not.”

“Okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you. Come on.”

And with the gentlest of touches, he led her outside to the car.





Judy Clemens's books