Free Embrace the Grim Reaper by Judy Clemens Page B

you’re sure.”
    She straddled the bike. “I’ll race you.”
    He grinned. “You’re on.” He shot off, sprinting toward his car.
    Casey took off down the parking lot, waving good-naturedly when Eric passed her in a dark green Camry. She followed him, catching up as he waited for traffic at the end of the drive, then cruising up onto the sidewalk, now devoid of people.
    About a block from Main Street, trailing only by a few hundred feet, Casey ducked down an alley, which she believed would take her behind Home Sweet Home. Pausing at the cross streets to make sure she didn’t get hit, she bounced through the rutted, gravel lane, counting buildings and looking for the church steeple.
    She found the church sooner than she realized, and skidded to a stop as the alley dead-ended at a cast iron fence surrounding the church’s back yard. The grassy area was barely visible through the branches of thick bushes, but Casey could make out some flowers and a pathway among trunks of larger trees.
    The gravel lane angled sharply to the right, toward Main Street, and Casey turned her bike quickly in that direction, hoping she could still beat Eric to the kitchen.
    “But it’s not fair!”
    Casey froze at the words, the woman’s shrill voice traveling easily through the air, along with footsteps and the slap of the church’s back door. Casey leaned toward the bushes, squinting through the leaves into the church’s garden.
    “I don’t like it either, Holly, but what was I supposed to do? Eric made it clear what he would do if I didn’t cast her. And we have to replace Ellen if we want to do the play.”
    Thomas. The play’s director. Casey grimaced. And he was talking about her.
    “What could Eric really do? Tell people about your little problem? Like they even care?” the woman, Holly, said. Casey couldn’t quite make out her face, but could easily imagine the pout that must have been on it. “You’ve got to tell her to go away.”
    “I tried. You can try if you want, but you’ll get the same response. Everybody else wants to keep her.”
    The two were close together, the woman’s arms crossed tightly over her chest. Thomas stood over her, his posture just as stiff.
    “I don’t understand why you let Eric push you around so much, Thomas. He’s younger than you. And smaller. Why wouldn’t people believe you instead of him, no matter what he said? You should just show him who’s the boss. I mean, you are the director.”
    “I know that, dammit! And he knows it, too. But I can’t change who his parents are, can I, or what he knows? Or why he’s come back to town?”
    Holly snorted. “How about why you came back? Doesn’t that matter at all?”
    They stood glaring at each other.
    “I think,” she finally said. “That you’re just chicken. Like everyone says.”
    Thomas reared back, his face a picture of shock and anger.
    “Quite a pair, aren’t they?”
    Casey jumped, whacking her foot against the bike’s pedal. Death stood on the back, feet on the axle and hands on Casey’s shoulders, like a ten-year-old catching a ride on a friend’s bicycle.
    “Who’s there?” Thomas stalked toward the bushes, his face dark.
    With a growl Casey pushed off, racing down the alley, trying to balance with Death’s weight on her back. After the short distance to Main Street she skidded around the corner and dashed the remaining half block to Home Sweet Home, hoping the church’s fence didn’t have a convenient gate for Thomas to find.
    “Thanks a whole lot,” Casey said. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?”
    Death’s eyebrows rose. “Who? Me?”
    Casey shuddered. “You are so—”
    “Casey?” Eric held open the front door and winked. “Glad you could join us.”
    Casey stepped off of the bike and dropped it against the brick store front, hoping to squash Death against the wall. Death stood suddenly at the curb, shaking a finger at her.
    “Yeah,” Casey said. “I got detoured.”
    “Maybe next