Beyond the Grave

by Judy Clemens

“That’s a new one,” Death said. “Common. Hard to argue with.”

  The pastor met Casey’s eyes with a knowing look, then sat back and took a drink from her own cup. “Ahh. Nothing like a fresh cup of java after a bad night’s sleep.”

  Light filtered through stained-glass windows which Casey hadn’t noticed the night before. Scenes of Jesus and lambs and what Casey assumed were prophets and disciples and Jesus’ mother, Mary. The colors lit up the western side of the room.

  The small sanctuary itself wasn’t fancy, other than the windows. A dozen rows of wooden pews on each side, the first few with padded benches and hearing aids. A pulpit stood at the front on a raised platform. A simple wooden cross adorned the wall. A piano and drum set occupied half of the stage, and Casey assumed the instruments accompanied hymns sung from the green and purple songbooks in the back of the pew.

  After a few minutes of not entirely uncomfortable silence the pastor set down her coffee and held out the bag. “Have one.” Casey reached in and grabbed an egg and cheese croissant with bacon.

  “See?” Death said. “I told you she was all right.”

  Casey warily regarded the pastor and her offerings. Had she already been into the church, seen Casey, and gone back out to get food? Casey didn’t like that she hadn’t heard her. Perhaps an effect of too many painkillers the night before.

  “Thank you.” Casey belatedly remembered her manners.

  “You looked like you could use some nourishment. The gas station down the road has these and they’re good if you can get them before they’ve been sitting under the heat lamp all morning.”

  Casey finished her sandwich before Sheila was halfway through hers, but that could have been because the pastor spent her time studying Casey instead of eating. Casey could tell Sheila thought she was being surreptitious, watching Casey from the corner of her eye, but it was fairly obvious.

  Casey wiped her mouth. “Thank you for letting me sleep here. I was really happy the back door was open.”

  “I’m glad you found us. We leave the door unlocked for just such emergencies.” She waited again, perhaps hoping Casey would fill the silence with an explanation. But Casey had no intention of telling this stranger her story, no matter how much she appreciated the coffee and sandwich.

  “Does he know where you are?” Sheila finally said.

  Casey paused in the middle of crinkling up her sandwich wrapper. “Who?”

  Sheila waved her hand at Casey’s face. “Whoever did this to you.”

  “Oh.” Casey touched her cheek. The swelling had gone down, but she assumed the colors had come out in all their glory. “It wasn’t one guy.”

  Death chuckled. “It was three.”

  “Then who? Or, should I say, how?”

  “No one you need to be concerned about.”

  The pastor sucked at her teeth. “You’re not from around here. I mean, I haven’t seen you before.”

  “That’s right.”

  If the pastor desired information, she was going to be disappointed. Casey wanted nothing more than to pack up her bag and be on her way.

  “Someone should take a look at your face. One of my congregants is a retired doctor. I’m sure he’d be glad to come over.”

  “I’ll be fine. It’s just a bruise.” As was the injury to her ribs, she hoped. But she wasn’t about to check her mid-section’s morning colors with the pastor looking on.

  Sheila leaned forward. “Was it someone from our town? Or are you running from somewhere else?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Casey said again.

  A phone rang, the sound coming from the hallway. A shrill jangle from a rare landline, impossible to miss. Sheila didn’t move. The phone rang again.

  “You can get that,” Casey said. “I’m okay.”

  Sheila looked around the sanctuary as if one of the characters from the windows might save her the trouble of answering the call. “I’ll be right back.”

  Casey drank her coffee and watched the woman hustle down the aisle and out the doors at the back. She entered one of the locked rooms Casey had seen the night before. Her office, Casey suspected.

  Casey set her cup down and pulled on her jeans, mostly dry, and a different pair of socks with her shoes, which were still cold and damp. She rolled up yesterday’s socks and shoved them in her bag’s side pocket.

  “She’s too curious.” Casey glanced toward the hallway to make sure the pastor wasn’t returning. If she heard Casey talking to no one, it would make her call to that retired doctor seem all the more necessary.

  “She wants to help.”

  “More than I’d like.”

  Death indicated the sandwich wrapper. “You ate the food she gave you.”

  Casey dug in her bag for a few dollars. “I’ll pay her for it. That way she won’t feel I owe her my life story.”

  “Oh, she’ll still feel that way.”

  That’s what Casey was afraid of.

  “Look alive,” Death said. “She’s back.”

  The pastor leaned against the end of the pew. “So. What can I do for you?”

  Casey held up her coffee cup. “You already did it.”

  “I don’t mean that. I mean about…” She jerked her chin toward Casey’s face.

  “You don’t need to do anything. In fact, I’m leaving.” Casey held out a five. “Here. For the food and coffee.”

  The pastor backed away, hands up. “It was a gift.”

  Casey set the bill on the pew. “For the offering, then.”

  The pastor began to say something, then stopped. She chewed her lip. “They were talking at the gas station this morning.”

  The back of Casey’s neck prickled.

  “It seems a few locals ended up at the police station last night.”

  “Uh-oh,” Death said.

  Sheila absently tapped the bench. “They claimed a woman beat them up for no reason.” taptaptap taptaptap. “But with those three guys, there’s always a reason. Ten reasons.”

  Casey gave a small smile. “That’s odd, isn’t it? That one woman could beat up three guys?”

  “Yes. That is odd.”

  Casey painfully picked up the two sloshing Ziploc bags. “Where shall I get rid of these?”

  “I didn’t tell them about you. The people at the gas station. Although if that woman from last night would happen to be you—I’m not saying it is, but on the off chance—it would be great to have a police report detailing why you would attack those men and flee. Because these guys…nothing’s going to happen to them. It never does.”

  Death hummed with displeasure. “I told you we needed to get those idiots. You didn’t listen.”

  “They’ve done this before?” Casey asked. “Given women reasons to beat them up?”

  “Or shoot them,” Death growled.

  The pastor nodded. “Oh, sure. But no one’s had the nerve to go to the cops, since one of the guys is the brother of an officer.”

  “You guessed cousin,” Death muttered. “This is worse.”

  “What about the chief?” Casey said. “Is she in on it?”

  “He. And he’s new, came from some other precinct. Had to be a demotion, don’t you think? Coming to a place like this?” Her lips pinched. “He wants to give his officers the benefit of the doubt. Says he can’t start off his tenure by accusing them of playing favorites, or believing every bad thing people say. It’s not like their offenses got documented.” She shook her head. “I can’t blame him for making sure he knows the truth before cleaning house. When I came to this church, I couldn’t believe everything the members told me—and there was a lot of it—because it contradicted itself. One person’s truth is completely unbelievable to someone else. Churches, unfortunately, work that way. I guess it’s the same with police departments.”

  Casey wasn’t sure how to re
spond to the pastor’s monologue.

  “What all this means is that those other women, the ones who have plenty of reasons to report these guys but never do it? They’re the ones who end up paying.”

  “Why doesn’t anyone do something? Why don’t you?”

  “You think I haven’t tried?” The pastor’s jaw bunched. “Maybe you have to be here longer than a night to see it, but this isn’t a quaint little village. This is a down-on-its-luck, bitter, underprivileged armpit of a place, and there’s a lot of darkness here. Some might say Evil itself hangs around.”

  “The place time forgot,” Death said, as before.

  “I came here to make a difference.” Sheila’s eyes shone with tears. “So don’t accuse me of not trying. It just hasn’t worked so far.”

  Casey gazed at the scuff marks on the brown tile floor. “What would happen if the woman from last night went to the cops? Would any of them listen?”

  Something in Sheila’s eyes sparked, and she gripped the back of the bench. “They would, if she got the right one.”

  Casey looked at Death. Death nodded. “We’ve got the time, and nowhere else we have to be.”

  Casey tossed the Ziploc bags onto the bench, grimacing as the water leaked onto the cushion. She snatched them up and pinched the tops together as she considered her next words. “Would you be able to get the right one to come down to the church?”

  Sheila’s lips twitched, then stretched into a Grinch-like smile. “Oh, I can get the right one.”

  Casey thought of Crash and his friends who had been terrorizing the women of the area for far too long. When Casey imagined she’d be fighting the cops on her own, the decision had felt murky. Now she had this determined pastor by her side.

  “Make the call. Let’s give the cops something they can’t cover up.”

  Chapter Seven

  The pastor punched the air, letting go with a whoop.

  Death laughed. “I like this one.”

  Casey smiled. She did, too.

  Sheila raced to her office, and fifteen minutes later a young cop named Maddy Justus was at the church, driving a cruiser bearing the crest of Beltmore, Idaho, and looking like she’d retrieved her uniform from the box on her very first day. She was taller than Casey, and a little thicker, but the look in her eyes was more reminiscent of Bambi than the hunter.

  “Sorry it’s only me,” she said to Pastor Sheila. “I wish the chief was along, but he and Connor are at the school teaching the kids gun safety.”

  Sheila smiled warmly. “We’re glad you came. Let’s get this documented.”

  Officer Justus dug a pen and notebook from her pocket.

  “Think she’ll get a Girl Scout badge for this?” Death wore a police uniform also. That badge read, Detective Cagney.

  Casey finally got a reference.

  Casey hoped Officer Justus could stand up to what would be coming her way once she went against the majority of the force and the cop brother. Casey trusted she could, since there wasn’t another option, and told the young cop everything that happened the night before, right up to when she and Death found the church door unlocked. Of course she didn’t mention Death’s role in it all.

  “And why were you sleeping in the park?” Justus asked.

  “Nowhere else was open.”

  “But why were you there in the first place?”

  Casey regarded the cop and her notebook for a few moments before saying, “I’m doing some cross-country hiking.”

  Pastor Sheila raised her eyebrows, but didn’t comment.

  “Is there anything else you need?”

  “Your info, I guess. Driver’s license. But I think I asked everything.” Justus took Casey’s ID and copied the necessary information. Casey noticed the pastor peering over the cop’s shoulder, and realized she now knew Casey’s name. Maldonado was a whole lot different from Brown.

  Oh, well.

  Justus handed Casey’s ID back to her. “Thanks for talking to me. I hope this is enough to get those assholes in trouble for once.” She winced and glanced at the pastor, who graciously acted like she hadn’t heard the uncouth word Justus used.

  Casey had finished packing her things while waiting for Officer Justus to arrive, and now she stood, sliding her arms into her bag’s straps. Her ribs sent pain through her body, and she clenched her teeth to keep from using her own un-church-like words. “You have my phone number. Feel free to call.”

  “Wait.” Justus looked up. “You’re leaving?”

  “If you don’t need anything else, I don’t need to stay, right?”

  “But…” She looked beseechingly at the pastor.

  “I promise I’ll answer my phone,” Casey told her.

  The officer’s radio crackled, and a man asked her location. She paled.

  “Justus?” the voice barked again.

  Justus took a deep breath and let it out, meeting the pastor’s steady gaze. “I’ll do what I can.”

  The pastor nodded. “Be careful.”

  Justus walked out to the foyer. Casey could see her through the windows in the back wall, and heard her say, “I’m at the church.”

  “The chief?” Casey asked.

  “I don’t think so. It sounded like Officer Willis.” The pastor’s nostrils flared. “The brother.”

  Great.

  “You should go now. If he figures out Justus talked to you, he’ll be down in a shot, and he won’t be alone.”

  Casey held out her hand. “Thank you for everything.”

  “Don’t say good-bye yet.” She hustled toward the front of the church, where she disappeared around a corner. After a moment she reappeared, gesturing. “Come on.”

  Sheila led her behind the pulpit, where a door opened to the outside. She pointed to an old silver Honda Civic. “Get in. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

  Casey eased her bag into the backseat. When they were buckled in, Casey pointed north. “Can you take me up the road a few miles?”

  Sheila glanced into the rearview mirror as they left, seeing right through Death in the middle of the backseat, who wore a sweatshirt like hers, proclaiming ignorance of God’s process. Casey had to think Death actually did know how it happened.

  Pastor Sheila drove stiffly, not relaxing until the village was out of sight. “I don’t think I should drop you off on this road. It would be too easy for them to come after and find you.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “You’re determined to go north?”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter. I don’t really have a destination.”

  Sheila glanced at her with curiosity, but didn’t say anything.

  “It’s killing her not to ask,” Death said.

  Casey knew it was.

  Sheila’s purse began ringing, and she and Casey both looked at it.

  “Can you see who it is?” Sheila asked.

  Casey fished in the cavernous bag until she found it. “Says it’s Maddy.”

  Sheila puffed out her cheeks. “Can you put it on speaker?”

  Casey did.

  “Hello, this is Pastor Sheila.”

  “This is Officer Justus.” Her voice came through formal and stiff. “I came by the church to see you and you’re not here. Any chance you’re coming into work soon?”

  Casey held her breath.

  “I’m running a few errands for the church. I’ll be back in, oh, a half hour or so. Anything I can do for you before then?”

  “No, that’s fine. Give me a call at the station when you’re here.”

  “Sure thing.” Sheila hesitated. “Everything all right?”

  “Yes. Officer Willis wanted me to ask you a few questions.”

  Willis, who may have been standing right beside her.

  Sheila’s face went stony. “About what? Did s
omething happen?”

  “We can talk when you get back. Thank you. Drive safely.”

  Sheila nodded, and Casey ended the call.

  “That was fast,” Sheila said.

  Casey felt a little guilty that the pastor might have to lie for her. A little. Not a lot.

  Fifteen minutes later Sheila turned left, drove a few more miles, and turned right again, stopping at a Dollar General on the edge of another small town. Small, but nothing like Beltmore.

  “Will this do? You can take this road as far north as you like.”

  “It’s perfect. Thanks.”

  Sheila’s forehead creased. “I hope the creeps don’t look too hard for you.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Casey smiled. “You did your job. Showed hospitality. Stood up for the vulnerable.”

  Sheila blinked. “I think that was your part.”

  “We both did it, then. Thank you.”

  The pastor watched as Casey climbed slowly, painfully, from the car. Finally the pastor pulled away, and Casey made her way into the store, where she bought food and water for the day’s journey. And another bottle of ibuprofen.

  She downed some painkillers and headed out of town, glad to be away from people and questions. The open fields gave her the freedom to breathe, although every time she inhaled too deeply she felt a stabbing pain, and every time she heard a car coming she tensed, afraid the cops—or the men from the night before—had found her. She hoped those idiots would be prosecuted. She also hoped the cops—or at least Officer Justus—could take care of them without calling her.

  After a while Casey grew warm and shed her sweatshirt. Her stomach was growling by the time she spied another town in the distance. She checked her phone’s maps again—she was getting all too used to that convenience—and saw she was approaching the village of Armstrong, Idaho. Population twelve hundred forty-two. Looked like it had all the basics—an elementary school, two churches, a general store, and several other small businesses. Maybe she could find something to eat that would be more substantial than a granola bar and peanut butter crackers.

  But no matter how long she walked, the town seemed just as far away. Was she hallucinating? Was this a desert trek story? She grew thirsty, and wished she’d bought more water. The last bottle had been empty several miles back. Where was Death and that stupid conductor outfit now, when she actually needed a beverage?