“Given all the cutbacks Gwyn’s dumped on us, I’m surprised he’s allowing this.”
“Our illustrious president is doing the police and GenMart a favor by offering our resources. I’m sure he’ll cash in eventually,” Stan replied. “You can follow any of the suspects off the bus for a three-block radius, but that’s all. No confrontations or arrests unless you see them commit a crime. As usual, just observe and report, okay?”
“Understood.” Note taking wasn’t Casey’s favorite part of the job, but she’d learned to appreciate it the first time she needed to consult her notebook while on the witness stand in court. Even with cameras on the newer buses, detailed notes were still essential.
“Since the punks usually strike after school and in the evening, you’ll be on call from 3:00 PM until the store closes,” Stan said. “I doubt you’ll be called more than once a week, and even then it should only take a couple of hours.”
Thankfully, both of her criminology classes were in the morning. “How do you want me to approach this?”
“As soon as the suspects are spotted in the store, the loss prevention officer, or manager on duty, will phone your cell. Drive to GenMart and park in their lot, but don’t go inside. Just head for the bus stop right out front and wait for the boys to board.” Stan nodded toward the folder. “The police file number and contact info’s inside, and GenMart has camera footage of the suspects you can look at.”
“Good. I’ll call Kendal.” She stood and opened the door, glancing outside. “I haven’t seen Amy in ages. Is she here?”
“On her lunch break.” Stan tapped his pencil on the desk. “Gwyn’s cut her hours to three days a week, so she’s working her butt off to help with the annual report.”
Amy Sparrow had worked with Stan for a long time and they treated each other like family. Stan wasn’t the most talkative, cheerful person in the world, so Amy’s quiet, studious nature suited him. Did he know about Justin?
“Everything else okay with her?” Casey asked, keeping her tone casual.
Stan dropped the pencil. “Why?”
He knew. “It’s just that this is a miserable time of year, what with cutbacks and Christmas bills coming in. Think I’ll go say hi.”
Marie appeared in the doorway, her stare fixed on Casey. Casey wasn’t particularly surprised. She and Marie had never clicked and never would. Professional rivalry was a tough habit to break. Marie’s unreciprocated feelings for Lou, who’d moved in with Casey two months ago, didn’t help either.
Marie’s mouth developed a mean little twist. “What are you doing here, Casey?”
“Catching up with Stan.”
As Casey started to leave, Stan said, “Don’t go yet.”
Marie snatched the file out of Casey’s hand. “Is this the GenMart assignment?”
“How did you know about that?” Stan asked.
“I overheard you and Gwyn talking in here, so I thought I’d wait around till your meeting ended. Obviously, Casey beat me to it.”
“I asked her to come by,” Stan said.
Marie swept thick red hair away from her face. “You said the next assignment would be mine.”
“I’m giving it to Casey only because she lives five minutes from the store and getting there fast is crucial. She’ll be expected to drop everything at a moment’s notice. You’re a twenty-minute drive from GenMart, and your kids are too young for you to just take off.”
Leaning against the door, Marie sighed. “Anything else on the go? My stupid ex is defaulting on child support again, so I need more hours.”
“We’ve had several complaints about graffiti artists, and I’m waiting for Gywn’s go-ahead. Meanwhile, I have a question for both of you.” Stan folded his hands on the desk. “What have you heard about attempts to unionize staff?”
Crap. Casey exchanged a blank stare with Marie.
“This isn’t an interrogation,” Stan added. “But supervisors have been hearing things, so I’m just asking what’s up?”
Afraid her face would give too much away, Casey strolled toward Stan’s window, which overlooked the yard. This small, privately owned company had always been cash strapped, which was why employees were paid so little. She didn’t understand how Mainland, a company designed to cover the routes that TransLink’s enormous fleet didn’t usually serve, had wound up in direct competition with TransLink, whose workers were unionized and better paid.
“What have supervisors been hearing?” Marie asked.
Waiting for Stan’s answer, Casey looked directly below the window. There were fewer cars in staff parking these days. The yard looked abandoned and grim in the pelting rain.
“Nothing much.” Stan cleared his throat. “Look, I know things are tough and people are upset about salary freezes and reduced hours. I’m just trying to get a handle on the best way to sort this all out.”
“If we told you anything,” Marie said, “would you report it to Gwyn?”
“Nope. I’d rather he didn’t know I was asking.”
“Sorry, Stan,” Marie replied. “Can’t help you.”
“What about you, Casey?” he asked.
What was she supposed to say? If she sold out Marie, she’d destroy an already strained relationship, which would make her working life hell. On the other hand, Stan was a good guy who’d stood up for Casey more times than she could count. He deserved loyalty.
She turned around. “I got an email asking if I’d be interested in unionizing, but I didn’t respond.”
“Who sent it?”
Ignoring Marie’s stoic face, Casey focused on the dwarf jade bonsai sitting on the corner of Stan’s desk. The plant was supposed to help relieve stress. It sure in hell wasn’t helping now. “I don’t want to cause trouble.”
Stan drummed his fingers on the desk. “Cards on the table, ladies. Gwyn’s about to start a witch hunt, so if either of you is involved in a bid for certification, I’d be real careful who I discussed it with.”
Casey had clashed with Gwyn only once in eleven years, and that was just three months ago. He was a stubborn man perpetually trapped between providing excellent customer service and meeting the payroll. Keeping employees happy had slid down Gwyn’s priority list, and she’d lost respect for the man.
“Employees can barely pay their bills, Stan,” Marie said. “Why wouldn’t they want to earn the same as Coast Mountain drivers?”
“I sympathize,” Stan replied, “but how would they survive if there was no MPT at all? Union wages and benefits, not to mention the possibility of strikes, could bankrupt this company.”
The skepticism on Marie’s face was obvious. “Fine.” She marched out the door.
Casey didn’t follow, preferring to give Marie some space. She didn’t want to face accusations about disclosing union issues to management. She hadn’t, but Marie probably assumed she had. The woman hadn’t let the truth get in the way of badmouthing Casey in the past.
“Think I got through?” Stan asked.
“I hope so.” Though she wasn’t sure.
“Concentrate on the GenMart thing, okay?” Stan blew out a puff of air. “Just between you and me, Gwyn can find plenty of reasons to lay people off.”
Casey knew this. So did Marie, yet she’d chosen a risky venture anyway.
THREE
A FEW MONTHS AGO, MAINLAND’S lunchroom had been filled with laughing, chatting employees. Today, only four people were in the room when Casey entered, and no one was laughing. An accounting clerk had her elbow on the table and her hand on her forehead as she murmured into her phone. In another area, two drivers mumbled to each other between bites of food. The lack of camaraderie was sad, but not surprising. Those who had openly complained about the cutbacks wound up with verbal reprimands and further reduced hours. Censorship and uncertainty filled every molecule in this room. It was an unsettling contrast to the photos of company picnics and Christmas parties past still hanging on the back wall.
Part of Casey blamed Gwyn for Mainla
nd’s financial troubles, but, in truth, they weren’t entirely his fault. It was common knowledge that Gwyn had gone into huge debt to start this business. Stricter government regulations demanding fuel-efficient buses had forced him to spend far more on newer buses than anticipated. Plans to expand routes farther east and into the Fraser Valley had been thwarted by more obstacles than anyone had bargained for, so Gwyn made do. Long-term employees had remained loyal to the company, but these days loyalty was strained.
Amy, the fourth person in the lunchroom, sat on the far side of the room, in front of the row of windows that looked out onto Lougheed Highway. She had her back to both entrances, and her head was lowered as if she were reading something. Clutching her Juvenile Offenders in Canada textbook, Casey strolled between the round, white tables. She’d brought the book as a way to explain her presence at Fraserview. She’d tried to come up with a good opening line, but everything sounded so inadequate.
Casey cleared her throat. “Hi, stranger. Mind if I join you?”
When Amy looked up, the many new lines on her face shocked Casey. She’d never seen Amy without light pink lipstick and rouge before. Her usually tidy curls resembled a storm-battered bird’s nest.
“It’s good to see you.” Amy removed her glasses and let them dangle from the chain around her neck. “Have a seat.”
Casey pulled out a chair and placed the textbook on the table. “How have you been?”
“The year’s not off to a great start, but what can you do?” Amy shoved her paperback aside and removed a can of juice and a mug from her Pirates of the Caribbean lunch kit. “Are you all settled into domestic bliss?”
“Is there such a thing?” Casey’s laugh sounded more like a snort. “I knew Lou liked to collect things, I just didn’t know there’d be so many hockey magazines, CDs, DVDs, lava lamps, beer mugs, and—get this—bags of bottle caps.”
“It’s only been a couple of months. Adjusting takes time.”
“You know that patience isn’t my strong suit.”
“Indeed.” Amy smiled and then gazed out the window, her amusement fading. “Another miserable January.”
“No kidding.” The dark, wet days had made Vancouverites irritable. Horns honked twice as often and people with glum faces wandered down streets and through the malls. Bus passengers not preoccupied with electronic gadgets stared, zombie-like, out the windows. It was as if people had forgotten how to chill out, even for a few moments.
As Amy poured juice into the mug, she glanced at the textbook. “Are you taking another course?”
“Two, actually. It’s a lot of work, but if I don’t step it up I won’t get my criminology degree until I’m forty-five.” She held her breath as Amy put her glasses on and read the title. Amy’s tiny frame seemed to shrink. “I started volunteering at Fraserview Youth Custody Center on Friday nights.”
Amy removed her glasses again. Her mouth started to open, then closed. She cleared her throat. “Justin is there.”
“I saw him.” Casey tried not to cringe under Amy’s stare. Since Amy was the one who brought up Justin, Casey hadn’t broken confidentiality. Still, she couldn’t offer much information.
“Did you talk to him?” Amy asked. “What was he doing? Is he okay?”
“We didn’t talk. He was walking down the hall with other boys after a basketball game, but he seemed fine. Much taller than I remember.”
“Justin’s grown a lot, in many ways.” Amy lifted her mug with both hands. “What’s the center like?”
She hadn’t been there? Given how close she and Justin were, Casey was surprised. “It’s old. In fact, Fraserview’s closing in a few months. Only twenty-five kids are there now, so overcrowding isn’t an issue, and the director’s nice.”
Amy raised the mug to her lips, but her hands began to shake and she put it down. She was one of the calmest, most unemotional people Casey knew. It was unnerving to see her like this.
Amy rested her hands in her lap. “Justin and I used to be best friends. When he was five, I’d take him to the park and he’d tell me all the things he wanted to be when he grew up.” Her eyes glistened. “Whenever he stayed over, I read him The Very Hungry Caterpillar over and over again. I still know the words.” She wiped a tear away.
“I’m so sorry, Amy.” Casey touched her arm. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“You’re one of the most discreet people I know,” Amy replied. “Besides, you know Justin and that place.” She lowered her head. “His trial’s not until March, and he’s already been there three weeks.”
Good lord. What had Justin done? Casey glanced around the lunchroom. No one was close enough to overhear them. “I’m assuming Justin hasn’t been in detention before. As I understand it, juveniles aren’t incarcerated unless they’ve been charged with a really serious crime or have threatened to hurt others.”
The corners of Amy’s mouth drooped. “The first one.”
Casey sat back. “Oh, Amy.”
“Justin’s girlfriend, Tanya, is also in Fraserview, so I’m not sure he’d be eager to leave her behind even if he could get out. The boy thinks he’s in love. His lawyer tells me that this isn’t Tanya’s first time in custody.”
The strawberry blonde. Casey couldn’t tell Amy that she’d met the girl.
Amy sipped her juice, then put her empty sandwich container away. “Do you know why I use this silly lunchbox?”
Casey shook her head.
“It was the first present Justin ever bought me with his allowance. I took him to one of those pirate movies way back.” She looked at the box. “He wanted me to have a memento of a truly wonderful day together.” Amy reached for the mug. “The worst part about all this is the horrible realization that my grandson doesn’t trust a single adult in his life.”
Not even his grandmother? “How did it come to this, Amy?”
“An excellent question. Lord knows I’ve spent hours trying to figure out where everything went so wrong.” She drank the juice, and then sighed. “The trouble probably started around age ten, when his mother and my son Anthony started fighting constantly. Kirsten walked out on Anthony two years later. Justin was devastated.”
“How old is he now?”
“Fifteen. Last year Kirsten moved in with a man Justin despises. This Carl person has two kids who live with him, a boy and a girl. Tanya is friendly with Carl’s daughter, Didi, which is how Justin met her.”
“Does Justin live with Kirsten?”
“With Anthony. Kirsten has him on weekends. The visits usually end in disaster.”
“Does he fight with his mom or with Carl?”
“With all of them, except Didi. Justin has never felt a part of that family, not since day one.” Amy frowned. “I’ll never forgive Kirsten for putting her needs above his.”
“Have his parents visited him at Fraserview?”
Amy lowered her head. “Anthony did once, but I don’t know about Kirst—”
“Hi, Amy.” Marie plunked into a chair and looked from Amy to Casey. “Am I interrupting?”
Casey frowned. Marie damn well knew she was.
“We were just catching up,” Amy said and finished her drink.
“On what?”
“Nothing much.” Casey picked up her textbook as Amy put her mug away.
Marie’s mouth developed that mean little twist again. “Were you talking about the union thing?” She stared at Casey. “How you think I’ll ruin everything for Mainland?”
The urge to reply with something nasty welled up inside Casey, but she squashed it back. She wasn’t in the mood for a sparring match.
“Honestly, Marie,” Amy said. “Are you and Ingrid really going ahead with certification?”
“Totally.”
“Well, I hope it’ll make you happy.” Amy stood. “Because you’ll be doing far more harm than good.”
“You’re wrong, Amy. A reliable source told me that this company is making more money than it wants us to know. We’re practic
ally being robbed.”
“Listen to me.” Amy leaned close to Marie. “The only reliable source in this place is Stan, and he would strongly disagree with your viewpoint.” She walked off.
Casey trailed close behind, grateful that Marie wasn’t following. As they started up the stairs to the second floor, Amy said, “Will that silly woman ever learn to think before she acts? If she keeps stirring things up, she could lose her job.”
Casey wondered how true that was. If anyone had insider information, it would be Amy.
Amy stopped at the landing and looked up and down the stairwell. “There’s something I wanted to tell you before Marie showed up.” Amy hesitated. “I saw the shock and the curiosity on your face about Justin, so you should know that he’s been charged with the attempted murder of his stepbrother, Brady, and drug possession. They found heroin in Justin’s pocket.”
“Oh, no.” Casey remembered Justin as a friendly, easygoing kid. However, easygoing kids didn’t necessarily become easygoing teens.
“The police believe that Justin pushed Brady down the stairs in their home.” Amy looked at the ground. “He’d fought with Brady before. Justin’s an angry, frustrated boy, but I can’t believe that he would intentionally cause Brady that much harm or try to kill him.”
“How serious were Brady’s injuries?”
“From what I’ve heard, there’s damage to his neck and head, but I don’t know more than that.”
“Amy, do you know what triggered the fight?”
“Based on what Anthony and the police said, it seems that Justin, Tanya, and Brady went to a party hosted by a classmate of Brady’s. Unfortunately, the host’s parents were out for the evening.” Amy’s lips pinched together for a moment. “Ridiculous, isn’t it? Fifteen-year-olds left alone. Justin and Brady argued, and shortly afterward Justin and Tanya left and went to Kirsten’s. Apparently, Brady followed them and that’s when the brawl really got going.” Amy paused. “Anthony says that Brady’s a bully who resents Justin’s presence.”
The Deep End Page 2
