Grim Reaper 01 - Embrace the Grim Reaper

if she’d never been on it.
    Casey looked around the roof for a good spot, and scooted on her stomach to the opposite side, the driveway side, where she could see when Eric arrived. A chimney sat close to the peak of the roof, and she pulled herself into its shadow, where she brought her knees to her chest, fitting herself into the darkness.
    It would take hours for Eric to be done with the police. By the time they finished at the scene and took his statement it would be the middle of the night. Casey settled down for a long wait, aware of the rustling leaves, the sound of faraway dogs, and the occasional car passing the house. Only when her legs began to cramp did she allow herself to move, and then just a minute amount, enough to stop the pain.
    She leaned her head against the bricks of the chimney. Her kidney ached. Her lip throbbed. It had stopped bleeding, but she could feel the blood, crusty and already scabbing on her mouth.
    The dead man’s blood hadn’t had a chance to begin clotting.
    Casey shook her head. She couldn’t think about it. Couldn’t think about those eyes, blanker even in death than they’d been in life. The knife, left on the ground beside the Pontiac, holding both Bone’s prints and hers. Taffy, who would be waking up in police custody.
    Lights danced across the backyard, and Casey brought her head up at the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. She peeked around the edge of the chimney. Not Eric’s car. A police cruiser. The doors were opening. Eric was stepping out. Eric and the chief.
    “Check the yard,” Reardon said to an officer, who climbed out the driver’s side. “We’ll check the house, make sure she’s not hiding here.”
    Casey eased back behind the chimney. Pulled her knees to her chest. Squeezed her eyes shut, childlike. If I can’t see them, they can’t see me.
    Long minutes passed. A breeze blew across the roof, sending leaves past her, skidding across the roof, and she shivered.
    She opened her eyes. The officer’s flashlight was coming back now. She could see the beam as it bobbed and weaved across the branches of the tree, across the roof, just beyond her toes.
    A door slapped open. “Well?” Reardon.
    “Nothing, sir. She’s not here.”
    Silence.
    “Eric said she ran, sir. She could be long gone already.”
    Casey could feel the chief’s doubts. His inability to believe that she had left town so quickly, leaving no clue as to where she’d gone. “Yeah, well, Eric doesn’t know everything, does he?”
    Footsteps sounded on the driveway, and the chief’s voice was louder. “You know what I want, Eric. She shows up, you tell her to come in. It will be better for her if she tells me the story herself.”
    “But I told you—”
    “You hear what I’m saying?”
    A pause. “I hear you.”
    “Good. We didn’t need this, Eric. Our town doesn’t need any more death.”
    “Yes. I know.”
    Casey held her breath as she listened, and soon the car doors opened, and slammed shut. One. Two. The car eased out of the driveway, the lights flickering against the house and tree. It drove away.
    “They’re gone, Casey,” Eric said quietly. “If you’re out there.”
    He waited for several seconds, then closed the door with a quiet snick .
    Casey dropped her head to her knees. They were gone now . But when would they be coming back ?
    It took them about forty minutes. The car pulled into the drive, and Casey heard one door open, and footsteps up the stairs. She waited. Whoever it was must have rung the doorbell and received no response, because he banged on the door. It opened.
    “What?” Eric sounded sleepy, and irritated.
    “Just checking in,” Reardon said. “To be sure she hasn’t come by.”
    “She’s not here.” Was that pain in his voice? “Come in and look.”
    “Oh, I don’t need to do that,” Reardon said. “I trust you.”
    Eric laughed.
    “Sorry,” Reardon said. “Go back to sleep.”
    The door slammed, and Casey listened to Reardon’s footsteps, the car door opening and closing. In a few seconds, they were gone.
    She waited an hour this time, and then five minutes more, before crab-walking down the roof. She made her way to the back of the house, where a first-story layer jutted out over the yard. Easing herself over the side, shingles scraping her stomach, she let herself down, dropping into the grass and rolling. She lay motionless for several seconds, waiting for movement in the surrounding yards, gritting her teeth