Grim Reaper 01 - Embrace the Grim Reaper

the best person to talk to?” She held a hand up. “Other than Karl.”
    “That’s easy. Yvonne.” Eric chewed his lip.
    Casey watched his face go through several emotions. “What?”
    “Talking to Yvonne is probably not the smartest thing.”
    “Why not?”
    He closed his eyes and shook his head.
    “ What , Eric?”
    “Yvonne is…well, she’s married to a cop.”
    “A cop? Which one?”
    He winced. “The one who was here earlier.”
    “Yvonne is married to the chief ?”
    “No. No, not him. The patrolman.”
    Casey rested her forehead in her hand. “So how do we talk to her?”
    “Do you think he’s home? I mean, wouldn’t he be out with the chief, at the scene?”
    “He could be. He was with him an hour or so ago. But there’s no way to know for sure.” Casey stood up and paced the room. “What time is it?”
    Eric glanced at the computer. “About one-thirty.”
    “When do the workers take their lunch break?”
    “At HomeMaker? Three-o’clock, I think. Why?”
    “Is there a way to get from the factory part of the complex to the administrative offices?”
    “Sure. There’s a hallway that connects them. Two hallways, actually.”
    “And you have keys?”
    He shrugged. “I have a master. I can get into anywhere except Karl’s office. What are you thinking?”
    “Do the workers go outside during their break?”
    “Lots of them. To smoke, or eat their lunches.” His face cleared. “We’re going to mix in with them, and sneak into the building, aren’t we?”
    “You up for it?”
    “Oh, yeah.”
    “We’ll have to walk.”
    “ Walk ?”
    “If the cops spot your car, we’re screwed.”
    “Right. Besides…” He grinned crookedly. “My car’s still back at Home Sweet Home.”
    Casey grimaced. “Does that mean your keys are, too?”
    “Just the ones for the car. Karl would kill me if someone got ahold of HomeMaker keys, so I keep those separate.”
    “Good. Put on some shoes. And we need light blue button-down shirts. You have any?”
    “I’m sure I do. While I’m looking, um…”
    “What?”
    He touched his lip. “You’d better clean up a little.”
    Casey found his bathroom, and tried not to be too shocked at her appearance. It was a wonder Eric hadn’t fainted when he first saw her. Her lip was swollen to at least twice its size, and blood had spattered across her face and chest. There was even some in her hair.
    Not all her own blood, she was sure. She swallowed down the bad taste that rose in her mouth.
    She scrubbed her face, being gentle around her lip, and brushed out her hair with a comb she found in a drawer. She also found some ibuprofen, and took a couple of them with water from the sink, hoping they would ease the throbbing in her arms, back, and lip.
    Eric knocked on the door. “Here’s a shirt.”
    She took it from him and closed the door again, stripping off her long-sleeved tee. Untying the material from around her arm, she grimaced at the nasty cut on her shoulder. It should probably have had stitches, but after washing it off she used some regular Band-Aids from the medicine cabinet to pull it as closed as she could before wrapping an Ace bandage around her whole upper arm. It was the best she could do.
    Stuffing her bloodied shirt in the wastebasket, she put on Eric’s. A little large, but she wouldn’t complain about that. She twisted her hair tightly and tied it into a knot. Ready. On her way out she hesitated, then stepped back into the bathroom to run water in the sink and wash away any tell-tale blood. She retrieved her shirt from the trash and snatched the bloody washcloth from the sink.
    “We’ll dump these on the way,” she told Eric when she joined him in his dark mudroom. “I don’t want the cops finding them here and getting you in trouble.”
    “I’m already in trouble.”
    Casey smiled grimly. “You got some dark jackets we can wear over these? And some ballcaps?”
    He went back to his room and returned with a black turtleneck, a dark blue sweater, and a few choices for hats. Casey chose the sweater, not wanting the feeling of the band around her neck, and a dark blue Indians cap to go over her hair.
    “Eric, how far away does Yvonne live from here?”
    “A couple of blocks. Maybe three.”
    She glanced at the clock. “I think we have time for a detour, as long as we keep it short. It might even make our visit to HomeMaker unnecessary.”
    “What about her husband?”
    “I think you’re right, that he’ll be