Lou was working on a reindeer when Casey said, “I’ve got to go out for a bit.”
He turned around. “Where?”
“Regency Fitness Center. Danielle needs some help.”
“With what?”
“She didn’t say.”
Lou looked concerned. “Want some company?”
“Actually, it’d be better if you stayed here.” She nodded toward Jacob, who’d resumed his work. Much as she’d love to have Lou come along, she didn’t want Summer left alone with Goth Boy.
“Any idea how long you’ll be?” Lou asked.
“Not really.”
“It’s just that I was hoping to unpack a couple of boxes tonight, and I need to know where to put my stuff.”
“We’ll do it when I get back.”
Seeing the doubt in his eyes, Casey hurried up to Lou and gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as I know.”
She dashed outside and into her car. She could smell the damp in the air and feel the heavy clouds bearing down. The rain would start soon. Speeding south on Commercial Drive, she wondered if Danielle had tried to talk to Harvey. Casey had read her latest piece in the Vancouver Contrarian: an essay about what motivates a racer’s desire to break rules—the need for speed and thrills, to compete for cash, or to control something more powerful than themselves. Most important of all, Danielle had concluded, was the need to win, to be king of the road.
Casey had memorized the last sentence. Only someone decided that they needed to kill people. It doesn’t get any riskier, or sicker, than that.
Had Danielle’s comment provoked the killer? At a red light, Casey called Danielle. A recorded voice again told her the number wasn’t available. Danielle wouldn’t have deliberately switched off her phone, would she?
The light turned green. Casey turned left onto Clarke as a call came through.
“It’s me, Stan.”
Bloody great timing. “Did you see the Wieczs?”
“Only the mother, who told me her life story. Bottom line is she can’t work and barely survives on disability checks and the twins’ earnings.”
“In other words, she’ll never be able to pay a fine. What about the complaint against me?”
“I straightened things out. It seems the girls told their mother some whoppers about you, which is why she filed the complaint.”
Casey gripped the steering wheel. “What kind of whoppers?”
“It’s not important. I assured Mrs. Wiecz that I could collect a stack of witness statements to refute the girls’ claims, and that I had over a dozen passenger complaints about Lara’s smoking. Mrs. Wiecz dropped the complaint; you’re officially back on duty.”
“Thank you.”
“There are conditions, though, and—before you get mad—they were Gwyn’s idea, not mine.”
“What are they?”
“No issuing fines or following the twins off the bus. If they break the rules you can tell them to stop, but if they give you a hard time, the driver handles it. Understand?”
A lousy way to treat his second-in-command. “You’re making it sound like I’m on probation.”
“Only for a month.”
Casey pressed harder on the gas and glanced around. “How about you let Marie keep the assignment? I really don’t need the aggravation.”
“Marie’s having babysitter problems, so you’re it, kiddo.”
“I don’t—”
“I thought you wanted to see this through.”
Casey choked back her disappointment in Stan for letting Gwyn do this. “Yeah, I do.”
The vehicle in front of her was too slow. She pulled into the fast lane, and a horn blasted behind her. The headlights were practically riding her bumper.
“If the girls break any rules, call me right away,” Stan said. “I don’t want to read about it in a report first. By the way, you can email reports in, but I want them within two hours of each shift.”
“Sure. See ya.” Fine. Whatever. She had more immediate worries than being treated like a rookie.
Minutes later, Casey pulled into the Regency Fitness Center’s empty parking lot and stopped in front of the entrance. Two lights exposed the empty counter through vertical windows on either side of the double doors. The rest of the lobby was dark. She checked her watch. Nine-thirty. Danielle was probably here when the place closed at nine. Twenty-five minutes had passed since Danielle’s call, so where was she, and where were the RCMP?
Casey’s fingers ached from gripping the wheel as she cruised farther into the lot, turned left, and spotted a dark green Jeep. Danielle had said she was driving her friend’s Jeep. Had the vehicle broken down? She dialed Danielle’s number again and got the same message. Harvey’s purple Camry was parked on the other side of the Jeep. Casey pulled up beside Danielle’s vehicle but didn’t see her.
Floodlights illuminated the corners of the building, casting shadows among the trees and shrubs that lined the fence at the back of the property. Casey fidgeted. She could wait for the cops to show up, but what if Danielle was in danger or hurt?
Casey grabbed her flashlight and stepped out of her Tercel. Wind rustled through the bushes and sent a chill through her. She flipped up her jacket hood and peered through the Jeep’s windows. No Danielle. Harvey wasn’t in his Camry either. Where in hell were they?
Squinting through the wind and darkness, Casey headed toward the Japanese garden at back of the building; a quiet, tranquil spot where people could talk without being noticed. The farther she walked, the darker it became. Her left shoulder grazed the building as she shone her light along the treeline, glimpsing the wooden fence through the foliage.
“Danielle?” she called.
The wind blew her jacket hood back down. She heard the garden’s mini waterfall ahead, the traffic behind her.
Casey slowed her steps. “Harvey?”
The gravel footpath crunched under her runners. Through the vertical windows on her left, she glimpsed a row of treadmills and stationary bikes in the dark room. Another floodlight illuminated the corner at the far end of the building. As Casey started toward it, a boulder in the garden’s tiny pond caught her attention. She stopped. There hadn’t been a boulder that size the last time she was here. Oh lord, it appeared to be floating. Casey shone her flashlight on the object and tried to comprehend what she was looking at . . . and then she knew.
She jumped back. Oh god, someone was face down in the water. Her flashlight illuminated arms and a torso, bundled in a puffy black jacket. Danielle’s ski jacket was plum-colored, wasn’t it? Taking a deep breath, she turned her flashlight toward the head and saw a baseball cap on backward. Oh, no. Harvey.
Wait, was he alive? Casey scanned the area, hoping for help or at least someone who could tell her what had happened. No one was around. She placed the flashlight by the water’s edge and knelt on the pebbles. She reached for his jacket and pulled him closer. Casey lifted his head—blood spilled from the wide gash across Harvey’s throat.
“Oh!” She let go and fell back on her butt.
Casey scrambled backward, her palms stinging from the pebbles and grit. She stopped when she bumped against a wall. Gasping for breath, she watched in horror as the flashlight she’d left by the pond shone on his body. Casey hugged herself and shivered in the cold, damp air. Think, she ordered, and reached for her phone. Her hand shook so much she could barely press the digits. She’d almost finished dialing when a bright light appeared on her right.
SIXTEEN
“POLICE! STOP RIGHT THERE!”
A blazing light forced Casey to squint and look down. Her butt was on the ground and her back was still pressed against the brick wall. Where on god’s earth did they think she would go?
“I’m the one who called 911,” she said. “My name’s Casey Holland.”
“Face down on the ground, now !”
Right. Cops were trained not to trust anyone. She started to comply, when movement on the other si
de of the pond caught her attention. Casey’s heart leapt and she pointed toward the fence. “There’s someone in the bushes!”
“Don’t move.” The officer radioed for assistance, then shone his light across the pond.
A figure darted down the fence. Another flashlight appeared at the other end of the building, and an officer moved forward.
The officer with Casey turned to her. “I said, face down on the ground!”
Heat rushed through her body as raindrops began sprinkling her face. “Sure. No problem.” Asshole. “You might want to take a look at the body in the pond.” She flattened herself on the pebbles. “His throat’s been slashed.”
“Hands behind your head!”
Voices shouted from both ends of the building. Footsteps crunched the gravel. A third cop knelt by the pond and reached for Harvey.
Casey looked up. “I asked you guys to meet me here,” she said. “My friend’s in trouble!”
“No shit,” the third cop said, quickly lowering Harvey’s head.
“Not him. That’s Harvey Haberkorn. My friend is Danielle Carpenter. She was supposed to meet Harvey, but she called me, asking for help. Now she’s disappeared, though her car’s still in the lot. We have to find her!”
A man yelled, “No! Let go!”
The voice was familiar, yet Casey couldn’t place it. More voices came from the parking lot. She leaned forward. The guy shouted again, angry and panicky. She needed to see him, but the cop was too busy asking dumb questions and restraining her hands behind her back. Thoughts swirled while she was patted down. Where the hell had she heard that voice? Think.
“The guy who’s yelling could have killed Harvey!” she shouted. “Can you find out who he is?” The cop didn’t answer. “For god’s sake, he might know where Danielle is! What if he’s done something to her?” No response. “Come on!”
“Calm down, ma’am,” he replied. “How do you know the deceased?”
She realized she wouldn’t get anywhere until she first answered his questions. “We met briefly. I worked out here two weeks ago, and we talked for a couple of minutes.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Job openings. Harvey worked here.”
“When did Miss Carpenter call you?”
“About thirty minutes ago.” The wind and rain blew into her face, forcing her to squint. The shouting had stopped. “When I got here, she wasn’t around, so I called her cell phone. She didn’t answer.”
“Did Miss Carpenter say if she’d seen or spoken with Mr. Haberkorn?”
“No. All she said was that she needed help and to come right away, and then the line went dead.” She wished she could see what was happening with the shouting man. “Maybe she saw Harvey’s body and took off.”
“You have no idea what her problem was?”
“Correct.” This genius was getting on her nerves. “She’s been writing articles on street racing for the Vancouver Contrarian, and Harvey Haberkorn belonged to a group of racers known as Roadkill. We believe Harvey knew who mowed down Beatrice Dunning last month because he was the other racer that night. Danielle wanted the hit-and-run driver’s name.” Casey noticed the officer’s head move a fraction. Good, she’d caught his attention. Now maybe he’d do something about Danielle. “I’m sure she was also hoping that Harvey would give her a lead about the other hit and runs. Danielle thinks one of the Roadkill racers could be involved. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”
The officer gave her a blank stare. “What brought you to this particular spot? Strange place for a meeting, isn’t it?”
“Not if you don’t want to be seen. Harvey wouldn’t have wanted to be caught talking to a reporter.”
“You headed straight for the back of the building and found the victim?”
This was wasting precious time. “Both of their cars were parked at this end of the building, and I knew a garden was back here. I was expecting to find Danielle, not Harvey.”
“If Miss Carpenter saw the body, why did she call you instead of us?”
Good question. “I don’t know.” The rain began to fall harder. “If you don’t believe me, call Constable Denver Davies with the Vancouver Police. He’ll vouch for me and my interest in the street-racing deaths. I have his cell number.” Although she’d rather not resort to using Denver, there seemed to be little choice.
“Let’s talk in the car,” the officer said.
“I dropped my flashlight. Could I get it back?”
He put on a pair of latex gloves. “We’ll need to take a look at it.”
The officer was joined by a colleague, who spoke to him about cordoning off the area. Casey was then escorted into the parking lot, where more police were arriving. Crime scene tape was already going up around the property’s perimeter.
“The Camry belongs to Harvey,” Casey said, shivering in the downpour. “I think Danielle was driving the Jeep.”
The officer opened the back door of the nearest cruiser. “Get in.”
She slid awkwardly into the backseat, while he took a seat up front.
“I want more details about the connection between you, Miss Carpenter, and the victim.”
Casey blinked raindrops from her eyelashes. Her hair was soaked. She tried to sit comfortably, but it was impossible with her wrists pinned behind her back. “Constable Davies can confirm the connection.”
The officer blinked at her. “I want to hear from you first.”
As Casey described her first surveillance mission with Danielle at the center, yelling erupted from the back of the building. Officers raced toward the noise, weapons drawn.
“Constable Davies also knows Danielle and why she’s so interested in street racers.” Her phone rang. “That could be Danielle. My cell’s in my left pocket.”
The officer stepped out of the vehicle and opened the door. “Lean forward.” After she did so, the officer removed her phone and answered the call. “This is Richmond RCMP Constable Prentiss, who’s this? . . . Lou who?”
Oh, great. Lou would be really worried now.
“She’s fine, Mr. Sheckter. Where are you? . . . I see. Well, we’re just having a chat, then she’ll be on her way, if all goes well.” He ended the call.
“Denver’s number is in my phone,” Casey said.
Prentiss returned to the front seat and dialed his own phone. Officers emerged from the back of the building, flanking a short man who kept his head lowered.
“It wasn’t m-me!”
Casey strained for a better look. Oh good lord, it was Richie. Now she knew where she’d heard that voice. While Prentiss spoke on the phone, Casey leaned out of the partially open door to listen as Richie was escorted toward the cruiser next to the one she was sitting in.
“What brought you here tonight, Mr. Kim?” a constable asked.
Good, they knew who he was.
“To m-meet Danni.”
“Who’s Danni?”
“Carpenter.” His voice cracked. “She was scared.”
“Why was she scared?”
“She wouldn’t tell.” Richie’s head began to sway back and forth. “It’s not f-fair.”
“What exactly did Miss Carpenter say?”
“To come get her.” Richie looked from one side to the other, as if searching for Danielle. When he spotted Casey, he stopped. She held her breath, uncertain if being recognized was a good thing.
“Where’s your car?” the officer asked him.
“I w-walked.”
“Your friend asked you to come get her, so you just walked over?”
“Can’t drive.” His head was really lolling now. “Where’s D-Danni?”
“Where do you live, Mr. Kim?”
Richie looked around the lot before turning back to Casey. His head stopped lolling, and he again stared at her. Maybe he couldn’t remember where he’d seen her. He’d only glimpsed her outside the donut shop, and that was eight nights ago.
“Mr. Kim?” the officer asked. “Where were you when
Miss Carpenter called?”
“My parents’ restaurant.”
“What’s it called?”
Richie mumbled a name Casey couldn’t catch. She glanced at Constable Prentiss as he ended his call and looked at Richie, ignoring her completely.
“What is your relationship to Miss Carpenter?” the officer with Richie asked.
“She’s been my friend since she was little.”
“Why did Miss Carpenter want you to meet her here?”
“I told you I don’t know! Don’t you g-get me?” The head loll started again. “I’m talkin’ English, you stupid.”
“Just calm down,” the officer replied. “We’re only trying to understand what happened.”
Richie lowered his head and the lolling slowed.
“Did you see anyone else here when you arrived?” the constable asked.
Richie looked up. “I c-couldn’t find Danni, so I looked around.” He paused. “I saw someone in the w-water and heard some lady calling Danni. I tried to hide.” He pointed at Casey. “It was her! Maybe she did it. D-Danni could be dead!”
Casey fumed. What the hell was Richie playing at? He knew Harvey, and he sure as hell knew what car Harvey drove, so why not refer to him by name? Maybe Richie’s brain wasn’t as damaged as he wanted people to think.
“I didn’t kill anybody, and Richie knew Harvey,” Casey said to Prentiss. “I saw them talking together at Winnie’s Donuts a few nights ago.”
“Step out of the car so I can free your hands,” he replied.
After he did so, Casey massaged her wrists, aware that Richie was still watching her. She and the constable sat back in the vehicle.
“There’s something else,” she murmured. “Danielle and Richie argued at the donut shop. Richie was furious with her for investigating Roadkill because he’s doing business with them.”
“What kind of business?”
“The kid’s a gopher for the bookie who pays drivers their winnings. Danielle thinks he might also be placing bets on the side. He knows all the racers’ names and when the races will take place.”
Beneath the Bleak New Moon Page 12
