Chapter Seventeen #2
Raven glanced at the wall clock. “Damnit. I have to get back to the stage. Simon wants us to rehearse the second act again. There are some rough spots with the leading man.” She rolled her eyes. “Let’s do lunch or dinner soon. I want to hear all about your sexy outlaw.”
Raven rushed out, waving one hand over her shoulder.
All at once, it was quiet. Casey opened the folder and started working on the marketing invoices, the cloth-covered book staring at her. She pulled out her cellphone and tapped out a text to Devin.
Casey: Hi. Whatcha doing?
Devin: Not much. It’s quiet today. U want to get lunch later?
Casey: Maybe. I have to see how the morning goes. Did u drop off a book 4 me?
Devin: No. Why?
Casey: Someone put a book on my desk. It’s a history bk. Thought it was u.
Devin: It wasn’t. What’s it about?
Casey: Unsolved murders in PWS—it has the 1903 ones. It’s sorta creepy, u know?
Devin: Maybe someone’s playing a joke on u. I can look to see if we have it in the library.
Casey: Cld u? I’d like to know. Gotta run.
Devin: I’ll let u know.
Casey: Thx. If lunch doesn’t work maybe coffee later?
Devin: Sounds good. Bye.
Casey set her phone facedown and tried to lose herself in invoices again. But the cloth-covered book lounged at the edge of her desk like it was waiting.
A faint chill crept across her shoulders. She pulled the book closer and flipped it open again, tracing old headlines with her fingertip: Women found posed; Necks bruised; Brown hair with crown of flowers.
It had to be a coincidence. Still… someone had put it here. In her office. Without a note.
All at once, Curtis’s face slid through her mind with those unsettling eyes, and the way he never smiled. She exhaled slowly. No. It could’ve been anyone. Lots of people had access to the building. She shook the unease away, but it clung stubbornly to her ribs.
She closed the book and shoved it aside. She had to stop imagining the worst. The murders had her emotions on a tight rope. This is silly. I have a lot of work to do. I need to focus on that, not unsolved crimes from 1903.
After a couple of hours of returning phone calls, paying invoices, and drafting a proposal for next year’s budget, Casey pulled out her phone and saw Devin had sent her a text.
She opened it up and read that the museum did not carry a copy of the book she had on the desk.
She sent him a thumbs up emoji, then pulled up Rags’s phone number and stared at it.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. A ridiculous flutter beat in her chest. She could just ask how his stitches were doing.
A totally normal, friendly question. Except they weren’t friends.
And she absolutely wasn’t normal around him.
Sucking in a deep breath, she typed:
Casey: Hey. How’s it going? How’s your eyebrow?
A long minute. Then—
Rags: Healing.
Her stomach dipped. She stared, waiting. Nothing.
She typed again before she could talk herself out of it:
Casey: Ok. That’s good. Just wanted to see how u r.
Another pause.
Rags: Yeah. Thx.
Then… nothing. That was it. No teasing. No warmth. Not a damn thing.
Her pulse kicked with irritation at him for being distant, and at herself for letting it bother her. She locked her phone and slid it into her purse with a little more force than necessary. Casey blew out a breath, squared her shoulders, and stood.
I shouldn’t have reached out.
Lesson learned.
But despite his short texts, she couldn’t seem to get him out of her mind.
She was so screwed.
* * *
Opening night was a blur of excitement, applause, and standing ovations. All the performances were stellar, but Raven’s rose above all of them. She was on fire, and Casey loved watching her in action.
“You did a great job marketing the production,” Jacob said coming up behind her in the sound booth.
“Thanks, but the play and actors were a huge selling factor.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Since you’ve been working here, our sponsorships have gone up by more than sixty percent, and the ticket sales for the plays and other events are the highest they’ve ever been. Like tonight we have a sell-out performance. You deserve to pat yourself on the back.”
Casey smiled. “Thanks for always being my cheerleader.”
“You know I’ll always be in your corner.” Jacob put his hands on her shoulders and gently massaged them. “You’re so stiff. You need to take a few days off and do something fun, Casey.”
“Someday, I will.” She scanned the crowd hoping to see Rags but he wasn’t there.
“There you go, getting tense again. What’re you thinking about?”
Rags, as always. “How happy Raven and the other actors must feel after their stellar performance. I’m sure Simon is elated with the way the cast performed.”
“If he is, he won’t show it. He’s one of those brooding directors.” Jacob laughed as he lightly pulled her back against him.
“Jacob—”
“I care about you, Casey,” he cut in. “I wish you’d give me a chance.”
She moved out of his grasp and turned toward him. “I care about you, too… as a friend.”
“We have a lot in common,” he said.
“And that’s what makes us good friends.” She grasped his hands. “I’m not in the right head space for that kind of relationship. I’m not looking for that.”
“You could’ve fooled me. I saw you with Clara’s brother. I just don’t get why you’d want someone like that.”
“I’m not interested in anyone, okay?”
Jacob’s usual warm eyes turned hard. “I’m not buying it. I saw you coming out of Mountain Ember last week. You looked pretty interested to me.”
“I didn’t see you at the restaurant. Why didn’t you say anything to me?”
“Your biker friend was keeping you busy.”
Anger replaced diplomacy. It hit hot and sudden, the way it always did when someone tried to claim a say in her life. “What I do and who I hang out with is my business.”
“The only reason I brought it up is to tell you I’m not buying what you said about not wanting a relationship. Just be honest with me.”
“I have been but you haven’t caught on.” Casey’s stomach churned when his face fell. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh. Let’s not ruin a good friendship, okay?”
“Okay,” he mumbled. “I have to finish up here.”
“Of course. I want to congratulate the cast.” She turned the doorknob and glanced over her shoulder. “Are you going to the opening night after party?”
Not looking at her, he shrugged.
“You should. You deserve some adulation for the wonderful job you did on sound and lights.”
“I’m busy right now.” His tone was dismissive.
“Maybe I’ll see you at the party.” Casey stepped into the corridor. That was uncomfortable as hell. I can’t believe he saw me with Rags. These are times I wish I was back in a big city.
Raven beamed and stood when Casey entered the dressing room.
“You were fantastic!” Casey said, hugging her. “There’s no way the reviews aren’t going to be stellar. You and the rest of the cast were on fire.”
“I was great, wasn’t I?” Raven said as she sat on the vanity stool. “Everything flowed beautifully. For the duration of the play, I was Roxanna.” She closed her eyes while powdering her face.
“Your portrayal of the lead character was a triumph. The audience couldn’t scramble to their feet fast enough when you took your bow.”
“I loved every minute of it.” Raven’s eyes sparkled.
“How did Curtis like the play? I’m sure he’s proud of you.”
Raven wave a hand dismissively. “You know him. Mr. Stoic. He hasn’t even come backstage.” A sliver of resentment laced her voice.
“Is he coming to the party?” Casey asked.
“Supposed to. We’ll see if he shows up.”
“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t.”
Before Raven could respond, there was a knock on the door before it slowly opened. Curtis’s pallid and glum face appeared.
“Curtis!” Raven gushed, rushing over to him. “How did you like the play?”
Curtis stared at Casey for a second too long and just enough to unsettle her. “It was a good performance.”
“She was fantastic,” Casey said, recoiling a bit when Curtis frowned.
“As I said, it was a good performance. You did a nice job.” He hugged his wife then stepped away and gazed at Casey. “Are you going to the party?”
“Just for a little while,” she replied.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Raven said. “You should relax and have a good time tonight. You deserve it. Without your marketing prowess, we wouldn’t have sold out the run of the show.”
“All of us work well together as a team,” Casey said. “I’ll admit I’m exhausted and have a lot of client projects I have to work on tomorrow.”
“You need to get out more,” Raven said as she wrapped herself around Curtis.
“I’ll only make an appearance. I have to prepare for back-to-back tarot readings tomorrow. But you girls have fun,” Curtis said.
“You haven’t slowed down any since Halloween is over?” Casey said, unnerved by the way he was staring through her.
“Tarot readings have nothing to do with Halloween. Customers appreciate the gift I have.”
“Curtis has a loyal following. A few of them have him go to their houses to try and contact their dead husbands, right, honey?” Raven said.
“Husbands and one of them wants me to connect with her deceased son,” he replied, his expression never changing.
I bet you charge them a fortune for that service. Casey smiled weakly and walked toward the door. “I’ll see you at the party, Raven.” She opened the door.
“Can you drop me off at the shop?” Curtis asked.
Casey stopped in her tracks. “Why?” she blurted.
“I have to get my car. I walked from the shop to the theatre tonight.”
Raven’s brow creased. “I can take you, Curtis.” Annoyance pricked her voice.
“I thought you wanted to get to the party as soon as possible,” he replied.
“The shop’s only a few blocks away.” Raven glanced at Casey. “I’ll see you soon.”
“See you,” Casey said, relieved to be out of Curtis’s presence. If it wasn’t for Raven and the other cast members, she would forgo the party altogether, especially now that her friend’s strange husband was going to be there.
Casey breathed in the crisp air, relieved to be away from the awkwardness that had descended over the dressing room when Curtis showed up.
The night sat heavy by ten o’clock, dark and thick.
As she made her way to the parking lot, her high heels clicked on the pavement, dying with no echo.
She fished out the car fob from her purse then halted, a tiny frisson of fear niggling at her neck.
“Who’s there?” she asked, her voice hushed.
No noise answered her: no branches clacking, no wind stirring through pine trees, no distant coyote howls. The only thing she heard was the rush and pulsing sound in her ears.
Casey stepped up her pace, entering the nearly empty parking lot. She hit the fob. Her car’s headlights flared to life, carving a circle of light out of the dark. Then she heard it. Footsteps. No. This is crazy. She forced herself to look over her shoulder as she stumbled on the asphalt.
No one was behind her, but she felt someone was watching her.
She ran to her car, flung open the door, and slipped inside, locking the door. Relief flooded through her as she gripped the steering wheel, trying to calm down her erratic breathing.
She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw nothing but darkness.
Chiding herself for letting her fears take hold of her, she slowly drove out of the parking lot.
As she turned the corner, she glanced again in the rearview mirror and dread inched up her spine when she saw the outline of a man standing next to the oak tree, watching her.
Pressing down on the accelerator pedal, she sped away.
I’m scaring the crap out of myself by reading that damn book about the 1903 murders. The guy was probably out walking, or he saw the play and was leaving.
“Or he’s the serial killer,” she muttered.
Shaking her head, Casey turned on the radio and let the fast, melodic riffs of Van Halen drown out the ceaseless chatter and fear in her head as she drove to the party.