NINETEEN
Casey couldn’t stop yawning. The intense shift with Dimitri, frustrating discussions with Wayne, and camera footage review was more than enough activity for one night. It was just after two in the morning, and all she wanted to do was fall into bed. That they had to do this again for the next three nights was demoralizing. The only perk to driving home at this hour was the absence of traffic.
“If Gwyn hadn’t insisted on expanding Coquitlam routes at night, we wouldn’t have been exposed to some violent nut job,” Lou muttered. “No one would have been pissed off enough to set fires.”
Casey’s eyes widened as she turned to him. So he really thought that a driver was responsible? She wanted to ask, but Lou’s anger festered like an infected wound. She’d have to tread carefully.
“Do you think the fires are a message to Gwyn to smarten up, or that someone’s truly out to destroy his company?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. The first option means that the fires will likely stop, if they haven’t already. The second one means we could all be out of work within a few weeks if the whole admin building goes up. Gwyn might not want to rebuild.”
Lou stared straight ahead. “Maybe the arsonist will stop once the Blade Man’s arrested.”
Casey’s eyebrows rose. “You think the two are connected?”
“I think the arsonist’s feeding off the fear and paranoia that the Blade Man’s caused. That’s why he’s striking now,” Lou said. “What I don’t get is why it’s so hard to find a knife-wielding nut who strikes in the same area every damn time.”
“Wish I knew.” She understood that stress and fatigue made him irritable, but ranting wouldn’t help. “We’re almost home.” Casey touched his arm. “How about a massage to relax you.”
“After we make sure that Summer’s actually home.” He paused. “Do you remember where the Price boys live?”
Uh-oh. “Why?”
“I want to get Tyler’s license plate number. Since we’re out here in the middle of the night, might as well do it now.”
“Do you even know the make of the car?”
“I got a good look at it when he dropped Summer off. Besides, how many little black cars would there be in the Prices’s driveway?”
“Point taken,” Casey remarked. “It’s just a few blocks from here.”
Soon they were in Tyler Price’s neighborhood, assuming that the family still lived here. It was a poorer East Vancouver neighborhood reflected in the dilapidated homes, broken fences, and moss-covered roofs.
“I think that’s it,” Casey said, pointing to a single-story, clapboard house. “Black car’s in the driveway.”
Lou pulled up in front of the driveway but left the engine running. The yard was filled with old bikes, appliances, and assorted junk. It was the only house on the block with lights still on in the living room. The lack of blinds made it easy to spot two guys and two girls jumping around in some sort of frenzied dance, although she didn’t hear any music.
“Neither of those girls is Summer,” Lou said. “Looks like Tyler’s getting some action on the side.”
A third guy wandered past the window. Tall and thin, Casey wasn’t sure if this was Tyler or Devon.
“Maybe not,” she answered. “Two girls and three guys could mean that Tyler’s the odd man out.” She studied the group. “No sign of Summer.”
“There’s no dad around and the mom works nights, right?”
“That’s what I remember.”
The same guy stopped at the window, then disappeared.
“We’ve been spotted,” Casey remarked.
“They’re probably worried about cops.” Lou turned to the small black car in the driveway. “Flashlight’s in the glovebox. We need that plate number.”
Casey retrieved the flashlight and shone it on the license plate. As she typed the number into her phone, a lanky figure strolled down the driveway.
“See any weapon?” Lou whispered.
“No, but stay alert. He might have a reason for taking his time.”
The closer he came to the truck, the slower he moved.
“Sure looks like that shithead Devon,” Lou murmured.
Casey held her breath as the kid approached her window. The resemblance to Devon was close, but now she could see that this guy’s mouth was shorter, his lips fuller. “It’s Tyler.” She rolled down the window.
“Why are you watching our house?” he demanded.
“I understand why you don’t recognize me, Tyler, given that Summer’s never introduced us,” Casey replied.
The kid stepped back, his expression wary, until recognition dawned. “You’re Casey?”
“Yep. So how come you’ve been sneaking around, drinking alcohol with a minor?”
Tyler gaped at her. “What are you talking about?”
“I came across CCTV footage of you and Summer drinking at the riot. The cops might want to know the names of the underage beer guzzlers.”
“What? No!” Tyler stepped back, as if afraid of being struck. “You can’t do that.”
“We sure as hell can if you don’t answer our questions,” Lou shot back.
“Summer wanted to go to the rally, not me.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Something to do.” He glanced up and down the street. “The beer was my idea, but she wanted one too. And it wasn’t my idea to sneak around. Summer was the one who wanted to keep our relationship a secret.”
“Sure,” Lou remarked.
“Look, we’re just friends. I wish it was more, so I do whatever she wants. Summer decides when we go out and where. Ask her if you don’t believe me.”
Was this sincerity or a desperate lie? Having been manipulated by Devon, maybe Summer had learned a thing or two.
“Does she know that you party with other girls?” Casey asked.
Tyler glanced over his shoulder. “They’re with my brother and his friend. I asked Summer here but she said you grounded her. Anyway, she won’t care if I’m with someone else.”
“Dude, you seriously believe that?” Lou started to smile.
“Like I said, she’s not my girlfriend. We just hang out.”
“The footage showed you with your arm around her,” Casey said.
“To protect her and keep her close,” Tyler replied. “That night was insane. People looting and setting fires. A guy even got killed.”
“Did you see it happen?”
“No. We were farther down the road.”
Casey noticed that the dancers were now peering out the window. She turned to Lou. “We should go.”
“No more speeding down our street,” Lou said to Tyler, “and no more late curfews for Summer, got it?”
“I’ll tell her. Can’t guarantee she’ll actually listen, though.” Tyler headed back to the house.
“I think he’s telling the truth,” Lou said as he cruised down the street. “Summer’s independent and strong willed.”
“True. Think he’ll tell her about our chat?”
“Probably.”
Summer would be upset over the invasion of her privacy, but wasn’t it a guardian’s responsibility to learn who she was spending time with? If Summer was truly calling the shots, that wasn’t so terrible. But what exactly did she want from Tyler Price? The other troubling question was how much she herself had contributed to Summer’s distrust?
When they arrived home, the only light on was the porch light.
“If he phoned her and she’s pissed,” Lou said, “we could be ambushed.”
Casey hoped not. She was too tired to fight with anyone. They tiptoed up the creaky back steps, opened the door, and turned off the alarm.
“Silent so far,” he whispered.
“It’s fine. If Summer was up, Cheyenne would have greeted us at the door.”
Casey followed Lou down the hallway, listening for sounds. At the second-floor landing, she and Lou paused outside Summer’s door. All was quiet. As they crept upstairs and entered
their apartment, Casey worried about what tomorrow would bring.
TWENTY
“You wanted to see me?” Casey asked as she sat in front of Stan’s desk.
“Yeah.” He kept typing. “Gimme a sec.”
Her supervisor looked far too pale. As much as Casey wanted Stan back on the job, perhaps his return was a mistake. It wasn’t just his physical injury but the emotional trauma that concerned her. After the beating she took last year, Stan had insisted she seek counseling. She refused at first, then finally agreed. The sessions had proven helpful. When she suggested the same to Stan earlier today, he’d refused, stating that he wasn’t seeking financial compensation for the missed work days.
Stan swiveled his chair to face her. “When I saw your note about the green theory, I called a friend at the Coquitlam RCMP. Seems they already knew about it.”
Irritation swept through Casey. “Why didn’t they tell us?”
“Probably because Gwyn and I haven’t been at our desks much.”
“And seconds-in-command aren’t worth briefing?” Casey gripped the arm of the chair. “Or did they tell Gwyn but he didn’t bother to tell me?”
“No idea.” Stan’s lips pinched together. “He hasn’t mentioned the green theory to me.”
“Our team and the drivers have a right to know, Stan. A description could save someone’s life.”
“Which is what I told my friend.” Stan turned back to his screen. “He must have talked to the investigating officers because ten minutes ago I was emailed more details about their primary suspect.”
Casey sat forward. “About bloody time.”
“He’s Charlie Applebee, also known as Charlie Apple,” Stan read aloud. “Late thirties, Caucasian, dark hair, medium build, and usually unshaven. He’s also a schizophrenic who rants about green monsters when he’s off his meds.”
“Is he homeless?”
“It looks that way, although officers haven’t seen him in a while. Until three years ago, Applebee lived with his parents in Port Coquitlam. He had a run-in with the RCMP about that time and then his father died. His mother moved away, but Charlie stayed behind and started living on the streets. The mother claims she lost touch with him. Seems that Charlie doesn’t like phones or living with others.”
“The cops would know where the homeless hang out, though. Surely somebody knows something.”
Stan shrugged. “They think he might have found a place to crash somewhere near Pinetree Way.”
“Where Benny and the woman were attacked,” Casey said. “The cops need to seriously search local neighborhoods.”
“They’re working on it.” Stan gave her one of his measured stares. “Which is why we don’t need to.”
“But if we watch for Applebee, it’ll increase the odds of spotting him.”
“True.” Stan scratched his beard and leaned his elbows on the desk. “My friend mentioned that Applebee likes crowds, probably because he’d be harder to spot that way.”
“In daylight maybe, but you and Benny weren’t in crowds, and he always seems to strike at night, or at least at dusk in the riot victim’s case.”
Gwyn barged in the room. His bald head glistened and his round face flushed as if he’d overexerted himself to come here. Casey wished he had the decency to knock before interrupting them.
“Didn’t expect to see you today,” Stan remarked.
Judging from the coolness of his tone and the unwelcome stare, he felt the same as she did.
“The insurance people want to meet.” Gwyn zeroed in on Casey. “Why haven’t I had a progress report on the firebug? You must’ve questioned staff by now and established at least some of the staff’s alibis.”
“There’s nothing to report. No red flags anywhere.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“I thought we agreed that daily reports weren’t necessary,” Stan said. “The cops don’t want our help.”
“This is about our own internal investigation.” The lines around Gwyn’s mouth deepened. “The cops don’t have to know a damn thing about it.”
The pair glared at each other for long seconds. Given Gwyn’s perspiring brow and Stan’s complexion, neither of them was in great shape. Casey worried that crap like this wouldn’t help Stan heal.
“I still sign the paychecks,” Gwyn added, his tone cold.
“Do you really want to play that card?” Stan asked, lowering his voice. “’Cause it seems to me that you need all the support you can get from supervisors, especially from one who’s well connected to police jurisdictions all over the Lower Mainland.” Stan stared at his boss. “I’ll be forced to withdraw my support if you keep treating my team like shit.”
Casey held her breath. She’d never heard Stan threaten him like this before.
Gwyn blinked at him, then sank into the chair next to Casey and lowered his head. “I’m just trying to save my business from total annihilation. Is that so wrong?”
The resigned tone and downcast expression made Casey uneasy. Gwyn sat in silence for several long seconds before finally looking up.
“I worked my butt off to build something here,” he said. “Started as a mechanic for BC Transit back in the day. Loved being around buses, riding them, working on engines.” His bloodshot eyes peered at Casey. “Just like those damn kids who hung around the property.”
“You mean the ones you called the cops on?” Stan asked.
“What?” Casey looked from Stan to Gwyn. “I knew they’d been banned from the premises, but I didn’t know you involved the police.”
“Gwyn didn’t want the team to know,” Stan replied.
She glared at Gwyn. “Why did you do that?”
“They were endangering themselves,” Gwyn shot back. “One was nearly run over by a bus. Another was in the garage while mechanics were working. The last thing I needed was lawsuits from the parents of injured kids.” He clasped his hands together. “Our insurance is about to go through the roof and we barely break even as it is. I might have to sell the company.”
Casey and Stan exchanged worried glances.
“That’s a bit drastic,” Stan said. “Once the suspects are caught, things’ll calm down.”
“We’ll see.” He turned to Casey. “I’m willing to concede that the firebug might not be a current employee, so get a list of all missing uniforms, especially from those who left on bad terms.”
“Can’t your secretary just call the inventory clerk?” Stan asked.
“She’s on medical leave for a few days.”
Big surprise, Casey thought. Gwyn had probably driven her over the edge.
“Then call her yourself,” Stan said.
“A request from me would raise suspicion,” Gwyn retorted. “Casey can do it.”
Stan’s scowl wasn’t easing the tension.
“Sure, no problem,” Casey said. “I’ll go see Angie.”
“Good.” Gwyn stretched out his legs.
“I’ve been thinking,” Stan said. “A suspect list of current and former employees might not be enough.”
“Meaning?” Gwyn asked.
“What about angry friends, family members, or riders? I’ve collected some hate mail over the past couple of years. One’s from a fired employee’s mother who demanded to know how they were going to pay their rent. She threatened to sue us for unlawful termination.”
“You showed me that months ago and nothing came of it,” Gwyn replied, “and I didn’t see any new ones while you were away.”
He checked his watch, then pushed himself out of the chair. “Give the cops the hate mail anyway. Maybe it’ll lead to something.” He left, shutting the door behind him.
“But it’s old news,” Casey mumbled to Stan. “If the cops show up at those peoples’ door, it could trigger old resentments.”
“Agreed. Our illustrious leader is not thinking rationally.”
“You are, though, and you could be onto something with the angry friend, relative, or roommate angle.” Wa
tching Stan gaze at the bonsai plant on the corner of his desk, Casey realized that the poor guy seemed more depleted by the minute. “Why don’t you go and get some rest. I can handle whatever comes up.”
“Think I will. Thanks.”
That he agreed so readily concerned her. Was Stan in worse shape than he was letting on?
Casey stepped out of his office. At the other end of the room, flustered human resources personnel were working hard. With all the resignations, medical leaves, and sudden vacations lately, their workload had to be soaring.
At her desk, Casey opened up a document on her PC as her phone pinged. A text message from Summer.
Can I have Tracy over for supper?
Sure.
Truthfully, Casey would have preferred a candid chat with Summer tonight, but it seemed right to cut her some slack. So far, there’d been no backlash about the confrontation with Tyler last night. Summer had left for school by the time Casey woke up this morning. If he’d told Summer about last night, she had chosen not to bring it up, for the moment.
Casey headed downstairs to the alcove where Angie handed out uniforms and maintained inventory. Her blue and green peacock curls looked like they hadn’t seen a brush in a while. Angie got off the phone and swore under her breath.
“You seem a little frazzled,” Casey said. “Have I come at a bad time?”
“I’m having my busiest month ever.” The thick blue eyeliner around her pale eyes didn’t hide the fatigue. “What can I do for you?”
“Sorry to add to your workload, but I’ve been asked to get a list of all missing uniforms from current and former employees for the past year.”
Angie blew out a puff of air. “That’ll take a bit of time to compile.” She paused. “Is this about the fires?”
“I can’t say.”
Angie peered at her. “Word is that someone in a driver’s uniform was seen running from the garage after it exploded. Gwyn thinks that one of our own did it, right?”
Ordinarily, she wouldn’t take part in gossip, but Angie’s chatty manner drew all sorts of information from people. She might have learned something interesting.
“There were several witnesses, including an employee, who saw someone in a uniform, yeah.” Casey glanced at shelves of neatly folded shirts and cargo pants in the alcove behind Angie. “But the uniform could have been stolen.”
The Blade Man Page 15
