chapter Forty-five
“You’re awfully quiet,” Eric said as they drove back toward Marshland. They had decided they didn’t actually need to track down Randy Pinkerton or his buddies. The cops had the new information, and the connections would hopefully be enough to at least bring the men in for questioning, as well as make it possible to check gun registrations, although alibis for a date several years ago would be impossible to come by. A week ago though, that was more hopeful. It wasn’t like Casey and Eric knew where Randy was, anyway, since he apparently was avoiding all his usual haunts.
Casey shifted in her seat so she could look at Eric. “I’m thinking about timing. Cyrus’ business is supposedly going fine, then all of a sudden he sells out. A few months later he is working for the exact people who bought his company. Soon after that he’s laid off and making the blueprints for the smuggling boat. What exactly happened?”
“Wayne said he was an expert, that people were lucky to get him to make something. I guess Harbor Houseboats wanted the best.”
“So they buy out his company? He goes from being his own boss to just another grunt? It doesn’t make sense. And meanwhile, his wife is ill and dying of cancer.”
“He needed money for her treatment?”
“Insurance would cover that.”
“Assuming he had it. He wasn’t getting benefits from some large company. He would have had to supply it himself.”
“One way to find out.” Eric dug his phone out of his pocket. “Call Betsy.”
Betsy answered almost immediately. “You found something?”
“Did Cyrus have medical insurance?”
She hesitated. “They were living in a car.”
“No, I mean before Vivian died. Were they okay?”
“Oh. I guess so. From what I remember, she was getting the best care, always in a different hospital, trying this or that new treatment. None of it worked, of course. I mean it was pancreatic cancer. Not much you can do for that—especially that far back.”
“Did he ever talk about why he sold his business?”
“All I ever heard was that he ran out of money and had to get a different job.”
“Do you know how he got the one with the houseboats?”
“They came looking for him. It was like Wayne told you—Uncle Cyrus was really, really good when he was thinking straight.”
“But then he got laid off not too long after.”
“I don’t know, Casey. I guess so. Dad always said he must have still been out of his mind a little bit because of Aunt Viv. I don’t think he ever really recovered. He went a little nuts trying to keep her alive with all that medicine, and when it didn’t work…”
“I understand. Thanks, Betsy. We’ll be in touch.”
“Uh-oh,” Eric said when she hung up. “You’re burning brain cells.”
“It doesn’t make any sense. Cyrus’ wife gets sick, but he’s got medical insurance, so he should be okay. He owns his own business, so he can make his own schedule—five months isn’t long enough for a business to go completely down the drain, is it? But halfway through her illness he sells his company and goes to work for somebody else, farther away, who would dictate his schedule, which would probably mean spending less time with his wife during her final months. From what we’re hearing about how her illness affected him and how much he loved her, I just can’t see that.”
“Well, maybe a few months is long enough to drain a business, especially if it was on the rocks before.”
She shook her head. “It’s got to mean something else.”
Eric’s phone rang in her hand. “It’s Chief Kay. Hello?”
“We got positive IDs from your Colorado people, the cook and the neighbor.”
“It was Randy Pinkerton?”
“That’s the guy. We’re going out to talk with him.”
“Good luck finding him.”
Kay was quiet for a few seconds. “I take it that means you’ve been to see him?”
“Tried. The stupid Chamber guy gave him the heads-up and he took off. Now he’s somewhere in the wind.”
“Leave him up to us now. You’ve done your job—we’re looking at someone other than your brother—not that I was looking at him, mind you.”
“All I ever wanted.” Well, not all. But it would have to be enough.
“We’ll keep you posted as much as we can.” Which would mean once everything was over.
Casey hung up and told Eric what was happening.
“So we can go home?”
“I guess. I’m not sure what else we could do.” She watched the passing scenery, not really seeing the blue sky and the orange leaves. “But I’m not real happy about it.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
By the time they arrived back in Marshland it was late, but Casey was too antsy to sleep, or even to go into her room. “Want to go for a walk?”
Eric looked surprised, but agreed, and they started down the street. It was dusk, and the lights were just beginning to glow, casting a yellowish light over the sidewalk and the buildings they passed. The air had cooled to a manageable temperature, but still they went at a leisurely pace.
Without discussing their destination, they headed toward the park. When they got to Elizabeth and Cyrus’ old parking lot, they sat on top of the table and looked out over the grassy area. There were a few folks using the very last of the light on the playground, and maybe the same group of boys running in circles and arguing over a football game.
“It’s almost like they’re still here,” Casey said. “But alive, not dead. It’s hard to believe this is where it all went down.”
Eric didn’t say anything for a while, then replied, “We did our best for them.”
“Yeah, I know.”
The football boys disbanded, heading out in all directions, like an explosion of testosterone. The parents and children went home. The sun set all the way.
“I’m not afraid of Death,” Casey said.
Eric didn’t reply.
“Ever since Reuben and Omar died, it’s like I’m not really here. Not a part of what’s actually going on with other people. I’m sort of half alive, half not, and I don’t really want the half that is. Does that make sense?”
“I guess.” He hesitated. “You wish you were dead, too?”
“I don’t want to die—” Was that true? “—but I feel like I’m half dead already, why not go the rest of the way? What’s the point of being here at all?”
“That does sound sort of like a death wish.”
“Yeah, I suppose it does.”
They sat in silence for a while. The last of the summer’s cicadas sang weakly in the trees, but other than that they heard only the breeze through the dried leaves.
“I hear things,” Casey blurted out. “And I see things.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not crazy.”
“Didn’t say you were.”
She climbed off the bench and swung around to look at him. “It’s Death. It won’t leave me alone. Everywhere I turn, it’s there. It talks to me, it follows me, I can’t…I can’t escape it.”
Eric watched her.
“Death tells me things. Things no one else knows.”
“Like Alicia McManus’ real name. Or what she said when she was dying.”
“Yes.” She inhaled a sob. “Yes.”
He watched her some more, and then he nodded. “Okay.”
She hugged herself, trying to stop shaking, trying to stop whatever was happening. Whatever was taking her farther away from Reuben and Omar. Farther away from the life they had shared. Farther away from everything that surrounded her.
“Hey.” Eric came over and bent his knees to look into her eyes. “Hey, it’s all right. It’s all right.” He held out his hands, like he was approaching a jumpy colt. “I’m here. I’m real. All right? Okay?”
She felt his hands on her arms, then on her back as he pulled her close, holding her, tipping her face down against his shoulder. She wanted to protest. She wanted to hold him. She took a shuddering breath, then another, until she was hyperventilating.
“Shhh,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Shhh. It’s all right.” He held her tighter, resting his head against hers, rubbing her back.
She held her arms tight against her stomach, curling into him, burrowing into his warmth, his smell, his body. “I don’t want…I don’t want…” She shuddered, and he held her even tighter.
They stood there forever. For a second. For as long as it took for her breathing to slow. For her fear to ease. Gradually she relaxed against him until it was no longer her legs holding her up, but his arms, his strength.
When she felt able, she released her hold on herself, and slid her arms around his waist until once again she stood on her own two feet. Because she chose to. Because that was what she wanted. She dropped her arms, and he let go, keeping his arms out, in case she wasn’t ready.
She let out one long, cleansing breath. “Can we go now?”
“Of course.”
Halfway back to the motel, Eric took her hand.
She didn’t pull away.