To Catch Her Death (The Grim Reality Series Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

can’t talk here. I’ll explain things after we’ve dealt with the police.”
    “Do I look like an idiot?” I gave an unladylike snort. “I’m not discussing anything with you and I don’t need you to explain things to me.”
    After my husband died, I’d struggled with my own mortality and the meaning of life. I’d gone to a dozen churches looking for solace, read books on life-after-death, and searched for reasons why he died. Let’s just say I have a tendency to immerse myself in my projects. Unfortunately, I was exactly the kind of person who would buy into this reaper crap, hoping for a higher meaning.
    Before he replied somebody pounded on the door.
    “Police, could you step out here please.”
    Relief washed through me. I needed to get out of Hell’s bathroom before I did something stupid, like enlisting in reaper boot camp, or signing my soul over to Satan. “Coming officer.”
    Nate approached and covered my hand with one of his. “Take this and call me. We need to talk.” He held out a business card. When I didn’t take it, he slipped it into my jacket pocket. “I’ll explain everything then.”
    I stared at him for a second, no clever retort coming to me. But neither did I tell him I wouldn’t be calling. I pulled the door open and squeezed out, making sure not to brush against him. By the off chance he was the Angel of Death, I wanted to keep touching to a minimum.
    The next hour was spent rehashing the details of the robbery. I did my best to stay as far from Nate as possible. He kept glancing my way with his piercing blue eyes. Why were the cute ones always total nutjobs—or grim reapers? As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t dismiss the bizarre events that happened. No obvious explanation for Leroy’s ghost, the Gates of Hell, or Pick popped into my head. Common sense told me revealing the bathroom incident to the police would not be in my best interest.
    After the officer finished with me, I walked to Doug. The poor guy looked paler than usual. I’d been frequenting this particular Holiday for a year and had learned that Doug was a sweet, farm boy from Iowa, who came to Anchorage to study environmental science. I’d done my part to make sure the police knew he’d shot Leroy in self-defense.
    “How you doing, Doug?”
    His round, hazel eyes slid to my face. “I killed a guy.”
    I leaned my hip against the counter. “Yes you did. Thanks for that.”
    His brow furrowed. “Thanks?”
    “If you hadn’t shot him, he would’ve shot you, and maybe the rest of us.”
    I wasn’t sure if that was true. Perhaps if Doug hadn’t tried to be a hero and handed over the cash, Leroy would have escaped with the money, leaving all of us unharmed. Or in my case, not a grim reaper—supposedly. But Badder was dead and Doug would struggle with that the rest of his life. What harm would a few possible fibs do?
    “Really?” The expression on his face nearly broke my heart. He appeared to be clinging to any thread that would lift the burden of snuffing out someone’s life. “You’re not just saying that?”
    “Doug, you saved all our lives.” I indicated the store with the sweep of my hand. “My kids have already lost one parent. Thanks to you they didn’t lose me too.”
    His posture straightened. “Wow, I did that?”
    I gave him a couple of pats on the shoulder. “You really did.”
    Roger approached, his brown eyes still wide with shock and his normally tan skin on the ashen side. “You okay, Mrs. Carron?”
    Roger was a native kid from a bush village called Dillingham. “I’m fine, Roger. How are you doing?”
    “All right, I guess.” He glanced over his shoulder at the police and then back to us. “Can I tell you something?”
    “Of course.” I had that effect on people. Complete strangers routinely bared their souls to me in the checkout line. I always found it weird that people were willing to tell me intimate details of their lives. If only I could get my daughter to share a