Grim Reaper 01 - Embrace the Grim Reaper

nothing made it clear what exactly they were.
    “Are there serial numbers?”
    He shrugged. “Don’t see one. That wouldn’t help me, anyway. I don’t see these things enough to be able to identify them.”
    “Your computer?”
    “It would have a list, but like I said, there’s no number.”
    Death had found an empty spot on the counter, and was shaking out the last pieces of the candy. Casey looked over and made a subtle gesture at the plastic pieces, but Death shrugged, obviously unaccustomed to—or uninterested in—appliance parts.
    “So how do we find out?” Eric asked. “I can’t exactly march into HomeMaker and ask around. Ellen hid them here for a reason.”
    Casey scooped an empty pasta box out of the trash. “Put them in here.”
    “And we’ll take them to HomeMaker?”
    “Nope. We’re taking them down the street to our own private mechanic.”

Chapter Thirty-four
    “It’s a door latch,” Aaron said. It had taken him about two seconds to identify it. “The two pieces fit together.”
    Eric frowned. “A door latch for what?”
    “A dryer, maybe. At least, that’s what I’d guess. Where’s it from?”
    “We don’t know,” Casey said, cutting off Eric’s reply.
    “But—”
    “Look, Aaron, we’ll tell you when we can, okay? For now, though, can we just…”
    “Keep it quiet?” He shrugged, but his eyes betrayed his interest. “I can do that.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Aaron,” Eric said. “We mean it.”
    “Can I at least tell Jack?”
    “No,” Casey and Eric said together.
    Aaron held up his hands. “Okay. Geez. I won’t say anything.”
    Casey tried to smile, but was sure she just looked grim. “It’s for your own safety, Aaron. Okay?”
    “Okay.” He let his hands fall. “So this is serious.”
    “Very.”
    He made a zipper motion across his lips. “I don’t know a thing, and I never saw that .” He nodded toward the box.
    Eric closed the lid. “That’s what we want to hear. Thanks, buddy.”
    They were on their way out when Aaron called, “See you at rehearsal tonight?”
    Eric looked back. “We’ll be there.” He stashed the box behind the driver’s seat and Casey reluctantly joined him in the car.
    “Now what?” Eric said.
    “Now we figure out why she had that particular part in her locker.”
    “What time is it?”
    Casey glanced at the dashboard clock. “A little past noon.”
    “Good.”
    “Why?”
    “Because the front office people at HomeMaker only work a half day on Saturday.”
    “So we can go to your office?”
    “It sits there empty most of the time. It’s time we put it to good use.”
    They waited in the parking lot of the diner, Casey not at all hungry after her late breakfast, until almost twelve-forty-five before driving over to the plant.
    “Karl’s space is empty,” Eric said. “And Yvonne’s. We should be clear.” His voice betrayed his anxiety.
    “If someone’s there, you can fake it. You have legitimate reasons to be here, right?”
    “I guess. But I was here yesterday. And the day before. They’re going to start to get suspicious that I’m working so hard.” He gave a wry smile.
    “So you’ve turned over a new leaf. Gotten interested in Daddy’s business.”
    “And you?”
    “I’m new in town. You’re just being friendly.”
    “Yeah. They’re sure to buy that.” He sighed. “All right. Come on, then.”
    The front door was locked, which was a good sign. “The line workers go in the back,” Eric said. “So they don’t need this door. The only ones coming in here are administrators and visitors.”
    He unlocked the door and went in, punching the numbers on the alarm key pad.
    “I’m surprised you remember the code.”
    “The first thing Karl taught me. He hates getting called away from bed—or a golf game—for a false alarm.”
    The office was silent. No clicking keyboards, no phones. No receptionist.
    Eric unlocked the door to the back and they went in. Neither Yvonne nor Kathy was there. Eric walked quietly to Willems’ door and knocked. No response. He tried the door, but it didn’t open. “Not here.”
    Casey let out the breath she’d been holding. “So let’s get to work.”
    In Eric’s office, she pulled a second chair around to the back of his desk so she could see the computer screen. He typed in a search for dryer parts, which brought up about a hundred listings.
    “Try dryer door latches,” Casey said.
    He typed it in, and about a dozen lined up on the monitor. “Well,