“Don’t. MacKenna could turn around any second.”
Casey lowered the binoculars and was startled by a chubby guy walking past her car toward the shop. He glanced over his shoulder in her direction. Was he part of the Roadkill gang? She hadn’t heard a souped-up engine.
“Casey, what’s happening?” Danielle asked.
“An Asian guy just walked by my car and saw me using the binoculars. He’s entering the shop.”
“Nice work, Sherlock. What does he drive?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t hear a car pull up.”
“What’s he look like?”
“Chubby face, average height, black bomber jacket.” She heard Danielle mutter an obscenity. “Do you know him?”
“Maybe.”
Casey looked at the shop. The clerk seemed to be looking for someone. “Did you place an order?”
“Yeah.”
“The Asian kid’s heading for the Roadkill guys. Oh wait, now he’s heading down the hall, and MacKenna’s following.”
“I’ll slip out while they’re taking a leak.”
“Keep the line open.” Fifteen seconds later, there was still no sign of Danielle. “I thought you were leaving. Where the hell are you?”
“MacKenna and the kid are arguing in the men’s room. I can’t make out all the words.”
“I don’t care. Get out of there now!”
“I need to know what they’re saying.”
“Get out, or I swear to god I’ll come in there and drag you out. Blow your nose as you leave so they can’t get a good look at your face.” Danielle disconnected the line. “Damn it!”
Finally, Danielle re-emerged from the hallway, sneezing and wiping her nose. Her plum ski jacket was draped over her arm, and Goatee Man was watching her again. The others, however, were still having an intense discussion.
Danielle paid for her purchase, while Goatee Man strutted up to the counter and spoke to her. Danielle smiled and said something. Oh hell, now what was she up to? The guy handed Danielle what looked like a business card, then ambled back to the table. MacKenna reappeared. Casey held her breath as Danielle spotted him, picked up her purchase, and hurried out the door. MacKenna stayed at the counter and watched her leave but didn’t follow, thank god. “What were you bloody thinking?” Casey yelled, as Danielle slid into her seat. “MacKenna’s watching you, and so’s the guy with the goatee.”
“His name’s Dominic, although he likes to be called Dom.”
“How bloody sweet. Oh, shit! MacKenna’s coming outside.”
“We should leave.”
Casey started the engine and watched MacKenna climb into his car. “He’s ignoring us.”
“Interesting that he knew Roadkill would be here,” Danielle remarked.
“He didn’t talk long,” Casey replied. “Didn’t even sit down.”
MacKenna started to leave but stopped. In the rearview mirror, Casey saw his face turned toward them. The last thing she wanted was a reprimand. She held her breath and waited until MacKenna finally drove off. She was a little surprised that he hadn’t approached them. Maybe the cop hadn’t wanted to be seen talking to them. She shut off the engine.
“How can MacKenna own a cool car like that on a cop’s salary?” Danielle asked.
“Don’t start.” Casey watched her bite into a shiny maple-glazed donut. “What did you and this Dom character talk about?”
Danielle swallowed. “He asked me out like I thought he would, seeing as how he was ogling every pair of boobs in the pub the other day. All I had to do was take my coat off and, sure enough, he came over.” She laughed. “We’re meeting at the River’s End Pub on Friday night, the same place he and Harvey went to. Dom works at the garage next door.”
“I don’t like this. What if he recognized you from the pub and wants to know what you’re after?”
“Guess I’ll find out.”
Casey rolled her eyes. “Learning who ran your brother off the road won’t change anything, Danielle. Even if the culprit’s caught and punished, it won’t stop the grief. That only happens with time and professional help. Trust me, I know.”
Casey hadn’t had counseling until she’d been diagnosed with depression months after Dad’s death. Mother’s fatal car crash hadn’t triggered the same response, yet different emotions popped up now and then, usually while Casey was trying to fall sleep.
“Is justice too much to ask?” Danielle finished off her donut.
“That depends on your approach.” Casey lifted the binoculars. “The Asian kid’s coming back down the hall. He’s approaching the table.”
Danielle snatched the binoculars from her. “Oh, shit.”
“You do know him, don’t you?”
“It’s Richie.”
“As in the guy who was with your brother when he crashed?”
“Yeah.” Danielle’s voice was subdued as she watched the shop. “He’s leaving.” She handed the binoculars to Casey and grabbed a copy of the Contrarian from her bag. She held the open newspaper in front of her face.
“Why don’t you want him to see you?”
“He’d be pissed.”
“Why?”
Danielle didn’t reply. Casey watched Richie cross the street behind her car and head for the intersection.
“Did you get the plate numbers?” Danielle asked.
“Not for the BMW.”
“We need it. My gut says it belongs to the kid with the straw-colored hair.”
Casey sighed. “First you have to promise to stay here this time, and I bloody mean it.”
“Totally. No worries.”
Flipping her jacket hood up once more, Casey stepped out of the car and glanced at the guys. All were eating and drinking now, apparently more relaxed. Casey stayed on the sidewalk as she passed the BMW. Danielle was right. It had to belong to the straw-haired kid. This vehicle was far too flashy to belong to the older patrons. Better make this fast. Once more, she pretended to tie her shoelace as she memorized the number.
Casey started back but faltered at the sight of Richie running toward her car. What the hell? Afraid of attracting Roadkill’s attention, Casey walked to the corner as casually as possible. It wasn’t easy, what with the adrenaline rush making her legs want to run so badly they were almost twitching. When Richie flung the driver’s door open and climbed inside her Tercel, she forgot about Roadkill and bolted for the car. The engine started.
“Hey!” Casey yelled.
The Tercel jolted forward, crossed the centerline, and immediately veered back to the curb. Mercifully, there were no oncoming vehicles.
Danielle sprang out of the car. “Are you out of your freaking mind?”
Richie clambered out. “Y-you are!” His head swayed a little from side to side.
“Scaring me won’t work, Richie.”
He flapped his arms up and down. “You’ll get k-killed, stupid!”
“Say hi to your parents for me,” Danielle shot back. “Tell them where we bumped into each other tonight, and why.”
“Screw you, Danni!” Richie stomped back down the street, waving his hands and talking to himself in Korean.
“I pulled the key out of the ignition,” Danielle said, plunking it in Casey’s hand.
“What the hell was that about?”
“He’s mad at me for coming here, but he won’t do anything. Richie knows that if he goes too far, I’ll tell his parents some interesting things about how he spends his free time.”
“Such as?”
“Let’s go.” Danielle glanced at the donut shop. “We’re attracting attention.”
Casey saw the members of Roadkill watching them. She hurried inside the car. “Your brother’s friend is still into the racing scene?”
Danielle swept her hand over her cropped black hair. “Yes.”
Casey thought about that for a few seconds. “He’s your source, isn’t he, Danielle?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“I’m not movi
ng until you do.” More silence. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
When Danielle said nothing, Casey smiled. Even if she was wrong, he was one more person for Denver to check out. Instinct told her she was bang on. Why would a guy who’d lost a friend and suffered life-changing injuries stay involved with racers?
Casey jumped when someone tapped the passenger-side window. Oh good lord, it was the straw-haired guy. She couldn’t quite determine his ethnicity, but black, almond-shaped eyes and a narrow, pointed nose suggested a multi-racial background.
Danielle gave Casey a wary glance, before rolling down the window.
“I saw that guy try to jack your car,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Danielle replied. “The guy’s an old friend who still treats me like a kid. He’s mad because I’m out late.” She smiled. “Is he a friend of yours?”
“I’ve seen him around. He hangs out at the donut shop a lot. Well, have a good night.”
“You too,” Danielle replied.
The rest of Roadkill still appeared to be interested in them. So much for not being recognized on stakeouts. Casey watched the guy enter the shop and wondered if he’d gotten what he’d come for.
TWELVE
“SORRY, CASEY, BUT I HAVE no choice.” Stan rolled his chair back from his desk. “You’re suspended until the complaint’s been investigated. But don’t worry; you’re still on the payroll. The girls are the ones who vandalized the bus and broke the rules. They’ll be held accountable.”
Casey crossed her arms. In six years of security work, no one had filed a complaint about her. “Unbelievable.”
“Listen, kiddo, I’m on your side.”
“Sorry, Stan. It’s just so frustrating.”
“I know.” He reached for the OLD FART, BIG HEART mug Casey had given him last Christmas. “I understand why you thought the girls wouldn’t give you their address, but couldn’t you have looked it up?”
“Following the twins seemed faster.”
“I thought you were working on your patience.”
“I was—am—but stuff happens.” She’d built a solid reputation at Mainland through quick action. There was no room for hesitancy. No one complained about her impatience when she captured suspects. When things went wrong, though, the issue sometimes came up.
“How did you know their phone doesn’t work?” Stan sipped his coffee.
Casey picked up her own mug. No point in evading the issue; Stan knew her too well. “I had lunch at the diner where the twins work. One of the servers knows the family well, and she told me.”
“Why did you choose that place to eat?”
“The burgers and fries they bring on board always smell fantastic, so I had to try it.”
He gave her a long look. “How did the family’s phone come up in conversation?”
“I figured we’d need their number sooner or later, so I asked the server about contacting the family.”
“And she told you just like that?”
“Well, no.” Casey fidgeted in her chair.
Stan scratched his trim gray beard. “Let’s hear it.”
She told him the story she’d made up about finding Paige’s student ID. When he gave her another one of those penetrating stares, she focused on his paisley tie and hideous purple and white striped shirt. “I wanted to learn more about the girls because I needed to know where they were coming from.”
“Why is that?”
Casey sighed. “Here’s the deal. The twins wanted to give me information about the racer who killed Beatrice Dunning, provided I let them keep breaking rules.” She cringed when Stan plunked his mug down. “Of course, I didn’t make the deal, but the info the girls gave me turned out to be true. Somehow, they have a connection to the racers, and I wanted to learn more about them.”
“I’ve seen your need for justice before, Casey. You get emotionally involved, try to fix things, and then mistakes happen.”
“It’s not my quest for justice this time. It’s Danielle’s. I’m trying to watch out for her.”
Since she’d noted in her report that Danielle was a witness, she’d had to tell Stan who Danielle was and what she’d been doing on the M7. Casey wasn’t surprised to learn that Mrs. Wiecz had filed a complaint about Danielle too, unaware she wasn’t an MPT employee.
“You forgot to put Danielle’s phone number in the report,” he said. “I’ll need to call her.”
Casey gave him the number. “I guess Marie will be taking my place?”
“Yep.”
She stood and wandered to the window that overlooked staff parking and the yard. Two diesel engines roared to life. Since Marie rode the M7 on Saturdays and knew the twins, Casey supposed it was inevitable. Her number one rival was bloody well taking over.
Casey turned to Stan. “Does she know about my suspension?”
“She’s been fishing for info, but I told her you needed to spend more evenings with Summer.”
Marie wasn’t stupid. She’d figure it out and then she’d make sure everyone at Mainland knew. Casey sighed. She might not like the demon twins, but she hated leaving assignments unfinished, especially under these circumstances.
“What happens next?” she asked, returning to the chair.
“Gwyn’s set up a meeting with Mrs. Wiecz and her daughters for late this afternoon.”
Mainland’s president was a decent enough man, but Gwyn perpetually worried about the bottom line and public image. “Do I get to be at that meeting?”
“Gwyn wants to hear their side of the story alone, although he’ll probably want to talk to you after that. He might want you to meet with the family to work this out.” Stan took another sip of coffee. “Adrianna and Greg will vouch for you.”
“The twins could accuse us of conspiring against them,” Casey said. “Will I need a lawyer?”
“I’m sure it won’t come to that, so don’t sweat it, okay? You’ve got a stellar track record, and I have tons of passenger complaints about Lara’s smoking.”
Yet there was only so much Stan could do. Gwyn had final say on who stayed and who went at Mainland. Casey ran her hand over the rivets and tiny gouges on Stan’s old mahogany desk. His desk and ancient chair were the only things left in the room that really suited him. The PC he’d grudgingly agreed to learn to use certainly didn’t, nor did the dwarf jade bonsai his wife had bought him for stress relief.
What other changes were coming? Mainland’s technological upgrade had eliminated two clerical positions and reduced the hours of others. Would Gwyn get rid of her as well? Even if she wasn’t fired, the incident would be in her personnel file.
Stan stood and headed for the door. “After you’re reinstated, I’m not sure I’ll put you back on the M7.”
“Why?” Did he think she’d screw up again?
“There could be bad blood on the twins’ part, and your presence might fan the flames. I don’t want to risk more trouble.”
Why hadn’t he fought harder to keep her from being suspended in the first place? “Please, let me see it through. I can’t run away from this.”
Stan let out a long puff of air. “I’ll think about it.”
When he opened the door, Casey knew the discussion was over, except for one more question. “When will I find out how the meeting went?”
“Don’t know. Tomorrow’s Remembrance Day, and I’ll be at the ceremony, so maybe tonight or Saturday.”
“I understand.” The wait might kill her.
Casey returned to her desk, propped her elbows in front of her keyboard, and massaged her temples, until she realized it wasn’t helping. She opened the drawer and peered at a bottle of Advil, a few coins, and two packs of gum. It was little to show for nearly six years in security. Her gaze drifted to the eight Employee of the Month certificates on the wall above the filing cabinets. Five had been awarded to her, but the last one was from two years ago. What had she done since that was so wonderful?
She looked at the three empty desks occup
ying the security department’s small space. Stan’s assistant, Amy, normally occupied the desk next to Casey, but recent cutbacks had reduced her hours as well.
Casey began re-reading her report, paying close to attention detail and ensuring she’d included facts rather than opinions. Would these words be enough to exonerate her? Could she have added anything to justify her actions? Her cell phone rang.
“Big news.” Danielle sounded excited. “Remember the house in Shaughnessy that I saw Eagle visit?”
“Where his girlfriend lives?”
“Yeah. It seems she has a twenty-year-old brother named Morris. Both he and Eagle go to SFU. Maybe you’ve taken classes with them and didn’t even know it.”
“Not unless they’re criminology students. How did you find this out?”
“That’s what resourceful journalists do,” she replied. “You won’t believe this, but the kid who came out and asked if we were okay last night was Morris Mueller. He owns the black BMW. Cool, huh? I’ve identified all of Roadkill’s hardcore members except the guy in the red Subaru.”
“Let the police do it. They’ll want to talk to the racers and Richie.”
Casey had planned to call Denver when she got home last night, but Summer had still been up and struggling with math homework. By the time Casey had finished telling Lou what had happened at Winnie’s Donuts, she’d had no energy left to repeat everything to Denver.
“I think the cops should put a scare into Richie,” Danielle said, “but I don’t want him arrested. Don’t tell them about the gambling.”
“Why not?”
Danielle paused. “He’s been like a brother for as long as I can remember. I want to try to get through to him first.”
“He’s connected to street racers, Danielle, one of whom mowed down Beatrice Dunning.”
“You think I don’t know that?” The irritation in Danielle’s voice quickly faded. “Just let me talk to Richie. When he realizes how much I’ve learned, he might agree to walk away before he gets in any deeper.”
“Exactly how deep is that?”
“I’ll tell you after I see Dominic Mancuso tomorrow. Maybe by then I’ll have found a way to approach Eagle without scaring him off. Did you see how miserable the guy looked the whole time he was at the donut shop? I think Beatrice’s death is still gnawing on his conscience.”
Beneath the Bleak New Moon Page 9
