“Nope.” He nibbled on the cookie.
“Isn’t it possible that a Roadkill member wants to stop her?”
Richie’s eyes narrowed. “She told you about them?”
“She trusts me. The longer it takes to find her abductor, the more danger she’s in. What exactly happened at the Regency Fitness Center last night?”
He chewed for a few moments. “Danni didn’t call me. I called her.”
That explained a lot. “What time did you call?”
“On my break, after eight-thirty.”
“Why did you call her?”
Richie paused. “That’s private.” He took another bite.
Probably not a good idea to piss him off too quickly, so she let it go for now. “How did you know where Danielle was?”
“She said she was gonna talk to Hellhound.”
“Why didn’t you tell the police about their meeting?”
Richie took a few seconds to swallow. “Because they’d think I killed him and that I didn’t want her talking to Hellhound, but I d-did.”
Oh lord, he was already becoming agitated. “Did you have a special reason for wanting Danielle to talk to him?”
“Hellhound wouldn’t run anyone over, but he knew w-who did. Danni would have got him to t-tell.”
“And you wanted him to tell Danielle who was responsible for running people over?”
His head bobbed up and down. “If she found the freak, then she’d leave us alone.” He shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth and reached for another.
Wrong. Danielle wouldn’t leave any of them alone until Roadkill was dismantled and the racers in jail. “I need to know everything that happened after you talked to Danielle last night.” Richie’s cookie snapped in half. He shoved both pieces in his mouth and then scrambled to collect the crumbs. “Richie, how did Danielle sound on the phone?”
He chewed with his mouth open. “Hyper.”
“But not afraid?”
He hesitated, glanced at Casey, and looked away. “Hyper.”
“So, you went to the Regency to find out what was going on?”
“I walked there and saw their cars, but not them.” He dabbed a crumb off the gray sweatshirt stretched over his ample stomach and flicked it into in the bag. “Then I heard yelling.” Richie blinked at the floor. “H-Harvey was in the w-water.”
“Was he still alive when you saw him in the water?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Where was Danielle when you got there?”
“Dunno.”
Casey tried to ignore the crumbs stuck to his lower lip. “I don’t want to invade your privacy, but I really need to know why you called her in the first place.” He kept staring at that dumb bag. “Please, Richie, this is important.”
“You c-can’t tell anyone!”
“I promise.” Another lie, but she had to find out what this kid knew.
“There’s a race coming. Big prize money.” Richie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “She made me promise to t-tell her when it was as soon as I heard.”
“When is the race?” Casey waited with growing impatience while he chewed another cookie. “The person who took Danielle could be there. You want to help find her, don’t you?”
When he finally swallowed, he said, “Tomorrow night. Don’t know where yet.”
“Thank you.” Casey sighed. “Do you think one of the Roadkill racers took Danielle?”
Richie’s upper lip began to perspire. The cookie bag slipped from his fingers and landed on the carpet. He scooped up the bag and plunked it on his lap. “Dunno.”
“I’m especially interested in Dominic Mancuso,” Casey said. “He and Danielle had a date three nights ago.”
His dark brown eyes bulged. “The jerk-face thinks he’s so hot, but he’s a l-loser.”
Brotherly worry, or something else? “You wouldn’t happen to know his phone number or address, would you?”
“I know everything about him.”
“Great.” Casey smiled. “What can you tell me?”
Richie pressed his lips together, as if afraid the words would slip out.
“I know this is hard, Richie, but we have to help Danielle, don’t we? Listen. Harvey’s dead and Eagle’s just left town in the middle of his semester. Something bad is going on with Roadkill, and if we don’t help stop it, more people might die. Do you want that to happen?” The fear in his eyes told her enough. “Tell me how to find Dominic.”
His gaze flitted around the room. “I’ll show you, but you can’t let anyone know.”
“Okay.”
Richie crossed the room and opened a display cabinet containing dozens of DVDs. Reaching behind the DVDs, he removed a one-inch binder. For the first time since her arrival, he smiled a little. Richie carefully handed her the binder, as if afraid the whole thing would turn to dust if mishandled. Casey opened the binder and gaped at a detailed drawing of the five racers’ vehicles she’d seen outside Winnie’s Donuts.
“Wow, Richie. Did you draw these?”
“Uh-huh.” He looked pleased.
Dividers created seven sections. Casey turned to the first section and found Harvey Haberkorn’s name up top and, in brackets, the bold scripted word, HELLHOUND. Beneath was a typewritten, detailed description of Harvey’s purple Camry. Richie had also drawn up a personal profile that included address, phone number, height, weight, birth date, and even employment history. Since Harvey was only twenty years old, the list wasn’t long. What were lengthy, however, were his racing stats. Turning the page, Casey read line after line of data about races going back eighteen months. Each race was numbered and dated; routes, participants, times, and placings noted. The next four sections showed the same detail for the other A-team members.
“This is amazing, Richie.” And disturbingly obsessive.
His smile broadened. How long had Richie been waiting for an opportunity to show off his work? Casey didn’t know much about head injuries, except that they were complicated. Other than a few spelling mistakes, Richie apparently had no trouble expressing himself on paper.
Eagle’s section came next. His real name was Andrew Wing and he was twenty-one years old. Like Harvey, he hadn’t been scheduled to race during any of the hit and runs. The same was true for Dominic Mancuso, AKA “the Dominator.” Judging from the number of third- and fourth-place finishes over the past six months, this twenty-seven-year-old hadn’t dominated any races lately.
“I see that Mancuso has two jobs, two ex-wives, and three kids.”
“He’s a puke who thinks every woman wants him.”
Sounded like jealousy. Mancuso’s entry was followed by “Speed Demon” Bashir Kumar. The twenty-five-year-old had achieved a number of first-place finishes.
Last came Morris Mueller, also known as “M and M”; a twenty-two-year-old third-year university student working on a business degree. He and Kumar had won most of the races over the past six months. Casey started jotting down everyone’s addresses and phone numbers.
After Mueller’s entry, there was a summary of winners in every race with prize money amounts recorded beside each name. Top prize money seemed to range from ten to fifteen thousand bucks. Second- and third-place finishers earned considerably less. None of the races matched any of the hit-and-run dates.
Behind the A-team racers, a section marked B TEAM listed a half-dozen names, each with their own page and stats. None of the names were familiar. The binder’s final section contained a single page listing the wannabes.
“Richie, may I photocopy some of this?”
He shook his head. “No. My mom will be back soon. She doesn’t like visitors in the house, so you should go.”
Not quite yet. Casey scanned the A team’s pages again. “What do the others think about Kumar and Mueller winning most of the races?”
“Lousy. And Demon freaks out when he loses.”
Casey jotted down more addresses, hoping Richie wouldn’t take the binder before she’d fin
ished. “According to your info, Demon doesn’t go to work or school, so what does he do for money?”
“His parents have tons. Gave him his house and car. He’s so spoiled.”
“Does he live alone?”
“With roommates.”
“Are they racers?”
“Wannabes. Real shitheads.”
Casey turned the page. “What are their names?”
“Jayden and Ty.”
She found them on the list and jotted down their last names and cell phone numbers. “Have you heard from any of the racers since last night?”
“No.”
“Do you think Demon is capable of kidnapping?”
Richie’s eyes began to bulge. “He could hurt Danni!”
Casey stopped writing. “What makes you say that?”
Richie checked his watch. “You have to go.”
She flipped to Morris Mueller’s page. He’d only been racing seven months, yet he’d won two-thirds of the races.
“Morris is a good racer, huh?”
“He’s a maniac.”
“Is he friendly with any of the others, like Eagle, for instance?”
Richie shrugged and glanced at the stairs. Casey flipped to Eagle’s page. He too was an SFU student, but in science rather than business. “Who organizes the races?”
He fidgeted. “I already said too much.”
“It could be that one of them has taken Danielle. The kidnapper might not be a racer at all, but the organizer.”
Richie snatched the binder from her and put it away. “Leo makes them happen.”
“My email’s on the back of this card.” Casey handed him her business card. “Let me know where the race is, okay?” He hesitated, then nodded. “What were you and Liam MacKenna arguing about at Winnie’s Donuts the other night?”
Richie’s mouth fell open. “You know him?”
“We’ve met briefly, but we’re not friends. Is Liam part of Roadkill?”
“No.”
“Then why did he show up at the donut shop?”
Richie’s head began lolling from side to side. “He’s gonna get himself k-killed.”
“By someone from Roadkill?”
“You have to go now.”
When he looked about ready to grab her hand, Casey hurried to the stairs. “Can you please just tell me what Liam said to you?”
“No! Go!”
She jogged up the steps, Richie breathing hard behind her.
At the top, Casey said, “What’s scaring you, Richie?”
“H-he said he’d kill me.”
Whoa. Not the answer she’d expected. “Liam said that?”
“No, stupid!”
At the front door, Casey slipped on her shoes. “Who threatened you, Richie?”
Sweat slid down his left temple. “Get out! N-now!” Clutching his cookie bag, Richie’s eyes blazed.
Casey headed outside. Who had this kid so scared?
NINETEEN
CASEY’S JAW CLENCHED AS GREG’S sorrowful eyes watched her board the M7 bus. She should be grateful and happy to be working again, but she’d rather look for Danielle than deal with the twins or her ex. He was already getting on her nerves and they hadn’t even left Mainland’s depot. Why was he working a Saturday morning shift anyway?
“Isn’t this your sixth shift in as many days?” She shifted Vancouver’s two daily papers in her arms.
“Somebody called in sick.”
Lou would be furious. Greg may have worked for Mainland a few months longer, but Lou had earned seniority because of Greg’s many medical leaves. Drivers who’d put in the most time were supposed to have first shot at extra hours, but Mainland wasn’t unionized, so management could do whatever they wanted. It was another reason for the escalating rumors about unionization.
“Good to see you back,” Greg said. “I knew the she-beasts would lose.”
“Thanks.” Why tell him the complaint had been dropped because the Wieczs hadn’t shown up for meetings?
“What brings you here on a Saturday?” he asked.
“Stan gave Marie time off for some family thing.” She started down the aisle.
“Has Tina apologized about the other day?” Greg called out. “I told her to call you.”
“As I said, I’m not interested in an apology.” Why wouldn’t he listen?
“But I am.” He stood and walked toward her. “I want this sorted out.”
Casey made a point of checking her watch. “Shouldn’t we be starting?”
He moved so close to her that she felt his minty breath on her face. “She insulted you. I can’t forget that.” His jaw tightened. “And I won’t forget what we had when we were at our best.”
Tension trickled across Casey’s shoulders and down her back. “You should.”
“Biggest mistake I ever made was letting you go.”
What the hell was he talking about? “Greg, you didn’t let me go, I walked away because Tina was in your life.”
“I wish I could undo what happened.”
What a horrible thing to say. “I don’t.” What on earth had she seen in this guy? “You have your children to think about, so make the best of it, Greg. Now let’s get going or we’ll be late.”
Casey took a seat near the back of the bus, as a powerful-sounding car roared past Mainland’s yard. She thought she saw something black and sporty, but it moved too fast for her to be certain. Casey popped a stick of gum in her mouth and began chewing. Gum chewing usually calmed the tension. She hoped it worked fast.
As Greg drove out of the yard, she opened the Province and began reading about Danielle’s disappearance. Casey had no idea who had told the press about events at the Regency, but this reporter had done his homework. He mentioned Danielle’s street-racing pieces and speculated about whether her disappearance was connected to her investigation. He also wondered if the same driver was responsible for all four hit and runs.
The Vancouver Sun focused on the latest victims. Single mom Chantel Green had been Jason Charlie’s social worker. Jason Charlie, a recovering meth addict, had been working hard to build a new life. A candlelight ceremony would be held tomorrow night, and donations would be accepted to help Chantel’s children.
Tragedy just kept spreading. What kind of person cruised the streets looking for people to run down? Vancouverites were growing more outraged every day. She’d heard the anger among her co-workers, in checkout lines, on talk radio shows. Turning to the editorial page, she read, I hope the maniac flips his car or hits a wall and dies.
The rants went on. By the time she’d finished reading every article, letter, and editorial in both papers, she was feeling prickly and out of sorts. As the M7 approached Granville and Seventieth Avenue, Casey realized she wasn’t looking forward to facing the twins again.
The girls climbed on board and barely flashed their passes at Greg, before heading down the aisle.
Lara spotted Casey and scowled. “Deputy Dog’s back.”
“I see you’ve made your pink hair even more brilliant.” Paige had also colored her hair a more hideous shade of purple. “Have a seat, girls. I wouldn’t want you falling.”
The twins grabbed a seat across from her. The bus had barely started moving when Lara’s voice rose above the engine. “Aren’t you supposed to be suspended?”
Nearby conversations stopped. A couple of people looked up from their phones and other electronic gadgets.
“No.” Putting on a compassionate expression, Casey said, “How’s your mom, girls? Feeling any better? I heard she had chest pains.”
Both girls glared at her. Just as Casey thought, Mom was a taboo topic. Maybe the twins despised her because she’d seen their harsh, invalid mother and shabby home. Was their wrath really about embarrassment, a need for privacy, or the desire to protect their mother from trouble? Maybe it was a combination of all three. Casey looked out the window, until the stench of cigarette smoke grabbed her attention. Crap. She stood as Lara blew a smoke ring
.
“Put that out right now, Lara.”
Smirking, the girl took another drag on her cigarette. Casey crossed her arms, cursing Gwyn’s stupid restrictions.
“Attention,” Greg said, using the microphone. “I want the girl at the back to put that cigarette out right now.”
The entire bus was quiet. Some passengers turned around to see what was happening.
Lara’s smirk barely wavered. “This is your big plan? Rely on drivers to fight your battles?”
“That’s his plan. Mine’s better.” Casey removed her cell phone and a slip of paper from her pocket. “I’ve been told your phone’s working now. I’m supposed to call your mom whenever you two break the rules.” A concession from Stan this morning.
“You can’t do that!” Paige’s horrified face told Casey she’d already won.
A passenger rang the bell and the bus began to slow.
“I totally can.” As Casey dialed, Paige’s expression contradicted her sister’s defiant stare. “It’s ringing now.”
“Put it out, Lara,” Paige said.
As Greg pulled up at the next stop, Lara took another long drag.
On the seventh ring, a voice said, “Yeah?”
“Mrs. Wiecz? This is Casey Holland from Mainland Public Transport.” As she explained the situation, she watched Lara mash the cigarette into the floor.
“Lemme talk to my brat,” Mrs. Wiecz said.
Casey handed the phone to Lara. The girl hadn’t even brought it to her ear when Casey heard Mrs. Wiecz scream, “You stupid bitch!”
Scowling at the floor, Lara held the phone away from her ear. Even from where she stood, Casey could hear Mrs. Wiecz’s shouts. Paige turned away from her sister.
“Yeah, I’m listening,” Lara muttered. “Fine . . . Bye.” Without looking at her, Lara returned the phone to Casey.
Casey went back to her seat and listened to the seconds tick by. There was no mouthing off or foot stomping, only silence. Payback would come eventually. Lara was too spiteful to let it go.
The M7 approached the Granville and Forty-Ninth intersection, which was marked by the roadside shrine to Anna-lee Fujioko. Someone had fastened a large balloon marked MISS YOU on a lamp standard. Conversations that had resumed after the smoking incident lapsed into silence again. Everyone knew what had happened here. Anna-lee’s highly publicized funeral was too recent to forget. The reward for information about her killer had risen to forty thousand dollars. According to news reports, little Crystal Fujioko’s injuries were no longer life threatening.
Beneath the Bleak New Moon Page 14
