Casey wondered if Justin was still furious with Brady, if he’d threatened to go after him again. “I take it Tanya’s been charged with attempted murder, too?”
“Yes, although according to his lawyer, Justin insists she had nothing to do with it. The police think otherwise. Given her history, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one who pushed Brady down the stairs. It would be like Justin to protect her.”
Tanya had been assertive Friday night—desperate to see Justin, but not overly aggressive. Maybe she wanted to make sure he’d back her up, get their story straight.
“Brady’s also known to police, as they say,” Amy added. “He had a reputation for fighting long before Justin came on the scene. I wish I knew more, but my son says that now Justin won’t talk to his lawyer, or anyone else, which is baffling. All of it is.” She resumed climbing the steps. “Three months ago, after Justin had returned from another stressful weekend with his mother, he ranted to me about hating drugs. Anthony’s never had complaints from the school or the police about Justin. Honestly, Anthony’s been more of a problem than Justin ever was.”
Amy had only mentioned Anthony’s drinking problem once, when he wound up in hospital after a near-fatal binge. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Truthfully, that’s why I’m telling you all this.” Her voice faltered.
Casey had been wondering why all this candidness was coming from an essentially private person.
“Can you make sure that Justin’s all right?” Her voice faltered. “And please tell him I’ll do whatever I can to help him. It’s important that he knows this.”
“I’ll try, but there are confidentiality rules at Fraserview. Given that I know Justin, I might not be allowed to see him.”
“Please try. I need to know why he won’t talk to me, and what really happened in the house that night.”
Gaining access to Tanya would be easier. It would be interesting to hear what the girl had to say about their predicament.
FOUR
CASEY ENTERED HER APARTMENT, KICKED off her boots, and spotted the light blinking on the phone. Not many people called her landline anymore, except Rhonda from prison and telemarketers. One of these days, she’d get rid of the phone. At least she’d finally banished her old answering machine in favor of voice mail.
Casey headed for the phone but stopped when her foot struck something hard. Wincing, she glared at the unpacked box Lou had been using as a side table for his remotes. This was the second time she’d smacked into that damn box. What did he keep in there anyway?
She slumped onto his ancient easy chair, opened the box, and gaped at . . . a pile of fist-sized rocks. Was he joking? Rock collecting too? After Lou moved in, her spacious third-floor suite in this big old house had begun to resemble a junkyard. He’d promised to put everything away, but that was a month ago. She’d already had to store her stationary bike and some other belongings in the basement to accommodate his furniture. Casey massaged her stinging toes. She’d known Lou for over ten years, and until four weeks ago, she’d had no idea that he was such a procrastinator when it came to household chores.
Casey glanced at the blinking light. Probably someone wanting to sell her something. She was already behind on homework. The message would have to wait. She hobbled to the kitchen table and shrugged off her coat, determined to finish reading this week’s chapter before her next class. She flipped to the bookmarked page in her text and read, Fifteen-year-old delinquents are boisterous, rebellious, and unpredictable. They are prone to criminal acts, disrespectful of authority, and generally hostile. Was this Justin? Had he completely derailed, or had he been swept up by circumstances and a cute strawberry blonde with a criminal record?
Someone pounded up the staircase. Summer flung the door open and charged inside, startling Casey. Summer had been told numerous times that she didn’t need to knock before entering the apartment, yet she rarely came up these days, not since Devon invaded her life. Summer’s golden retriever, Cheyenne, followed her inside.
“Did Mom call you?” Summer’s expression was a mix of anxiety and anger.
Tail wagging, Cheyenne trotted up to Casey, who scratched the dog’s head. “I just got home and haven’t checked messages yet, and please don’t stomp up the stairs. I don’t want the tenants complaining about noise again.”
Before Devon came on the scene, Summer had been more courteous. Casey was still embarrassed about the fact that both of the university students she rented to had complained in December about Summer’s loud music. Although their studio suites were at the back of the house, they shared the second floor with Summer.
“Whatever,” Summer grumbled. “Anyway, you were wrong when you said Mom would be glad that I told her about the party. She, like, totally freaked.”
“I didn’t say she’d be glad. I said she’d appreciate being kept in the loop,” Casey replied. “You should have told her about the party before you went.”
“I didn’t have time.”
Yeah, right. Summer and Rhonda hadn’t been getting along since Rhonda told her, in a phone conversation before Christmas, that thirteen was too young to have a boyfriend. Casey had heard Summer mutter that her mother couldn’t do much about it from prison. Rhonda and Summer had lived apart for eighteen months now. Casey had a sinking feeling that they were growing apart emotionally as well. She wasn’t sure how she could help. Duties as Summer’s legal guardian and caretaker of this big old house—still owned by Rhonda—not to mention courses, work, and a new living arrangement with Lou, kept her too busy to help sort out a complicated mother/daughter relationship.
“She hates Devon and she hasn’t even met him!” Summer walked to the bay window and plunked down on the cushioned seat. “It’s not fair.”
“Maybe she’d think differently if they met.” Casey doubted it, though.
Devon had too much swagger for a fourteen-year-old. Worse, he thought it was cool that his girlfriend’s mother was incarcerated. The kid had been hanging around Summer since mid-December. Casey didn’t like the way he showed up every single day, mooching food. Worse, she’d spotted them kissing last week. Summer had looked embarrassed. Devon, on the other hand, thought it was funny. Why couldn’t Summer have stuck with the boy who had facial piercings and a mohawk? At least Jacob had been polite, and so inexperienced with girls that he had been more of a friend than a boyfriend.
“How was your math quiz today?” Casey asked.
Summer got up, went over to Ralphie’s cage, and lifted him out. She didn’t pay much attention to Casey’s guinea pig, except when he became a handy distraction. “All right.”
“What does that mean?”
While Summer stroked Ralphie, Cheyenne sniffed the critter. “I got nine out of twenty.”
Damn it. Four points lower than the last quiz. Summer was spending far too much time with Devon. “Do you have math homework?”
“Only to fix what I got wrong. Devon’s coming over to watch a movie tonight.”
She wasn’t even asking now? “I think you need a break from socializing to focus on school work and finish your chores.”
“I emptied the dishwasher,” Summer answered in a defensive tone.
“But you didn’t refill it with the dirty dishes that are stacked all over the kitchen. It’s a mess, Summer, and you haven’t stuck to our bargain.” Casey struggled to stay calm. “I agreed to let you make your own food in the downstairs kitchen provided you kept it clean, remember?”
“Fine.” Summer put Ralphie back in his cage.
“Then you can vacuum the living room like you were supposed to do yesterday. And don’t forget the week’s worth of dog poop in the yard.” How many bloody times did she need reminding?
“Whatever!” Summer stormed out of the apartment, Cheyenne close on her heels.
Casey leaned back in her chair and sighed. Brooding about that child wouldn’t help. She returned to her textbook. Thirteen-year-olds can become sullen and withdrawn. They are tense, cr
itical, and highly self-conscious. Casey grimaced. Especially if their mothers were serving a life sentence for second-degree murder.
Lou stepped through the still-open door. “Why does Summer look so mad?”
“I told her to finish her chores.”
“Good. Stand your ground.” He shut the door, then tossed his damp coat on the rocking chair. Raindrops glistened on his brown hair. “She’s becoming a real problem.”
Casey wiggled her sore toes. There were problems, and then there were problems. “What are you planning to do with the box of rocks I just smashed my foot against for the second time?”
“I was going to make a rock garden in the spring.”
“Until then, would you mind not leaving them in the living room? We don’t have enough floor space, Lou.”
“I’ll stash it downstairs.” He grunted as he lifted the box. Lou wasn’t a huge guy, but there were impressive muscles on his lean frame. “Can you open the door?”
“Sure.” She hurried across the room and swung open the door. “What have you planned for dinner?”
“I thought I’d wait to see what you wanted,” he replied.
“You know I’m not fussy. You could have chosen whatever you felt like.”
“You don’t want to cook?”
“No, Lou. I really don’t. I have homework and then I need to see Kendal about a new assignment.”
He put the box down. “What’s it about?”
As Casey filled him in, she thought she heard footsteps on the stairs. She was about to peek out the door when Cheyenne trotted into the apartment once more. Summer then reappeared, with Devon right behind her. The beanpole had a smirk on his pimply face. He nodded to Lou but barely acknowledged her. Honest to god, Casey had no idea what Summer saw in this creep. Other than the thick brown hair and unusually light brown eyes, he wasn’t even that good looking. Baggy pants hung so low on his hips that they threatened to fall down. Worse, the kid smelled of cigarette smoke.
“Devon popped by and wants to help clean,” Summer said.
In exchange for another free meal. Casey stared at the boy. “You can help if you like, Devon, but you’ll have to leave right after dinner. Summer has to do extra studying until her math grade improves.”
Summer’s facial muscles tightened. Her mouth opened as if to say something, but she apparently thought better of it.
“No problem,” Devon said.
“I’ll pick up some takeout.” Lou put on his coat and lifted the box of rocks.
Great, more takeout. The second time this week. As the three headed downstairs, Casey shut the door. She noticed the blinking message light again and figured she might as well see who’d called.
“I heard about the party.” Rhonda’s irritated voice made Casey cringe. “And I’m pissed that you let Summer go. She needs a stricter curfew, Casey, and if her math grade doesn’t go up, make an appointment with her teacher. Also, find out all you can about this Devon kid. I’ll call in a few days for an update.”
Rhonda was barking orders now? Four months into her sentence, Rhonda had suddenly decided she should stay involved in her child’s life, especially after she learned that Summer was getting into trouble at school. In the fourteen months since then, Rhonda had been the one who chose the disciplinary measures. Casey hadn’t welcomed her new role as enforcer, nor did she like being told to report on all of Summer’s ups and downs. She felt more like a spy than a caregiver. Rhonda had no idea how much energy it took to cope with a surly, self-absorbed teen.
Casey turned back to the textbook and realized that distractions had caused her to read the paragraphs out of sequence. Now she read, Fourteen-year-olds suddenly become social extroverts—the center of their world shifts dramatically from home to peers. It had already happened in this house, and Casey sensed a battle looming. It wasn’t one she intended to lose.
FIVE
CASEY GRINNED AS KENDAL WINTERS gave her a big hug and said, “Two get-togethers in less than a month. Does this mean you’re back on track?”
“I hope so.” Casey regretted the lapse in her social life over the past twenty months. There’d been too many long weeks spent unraveling her father’s secretive past, then coming to terms with Rhonda’s imprisonment and guardianship of Summer. All while building a deeper relationship with Lou. Somehow, her life had become consumed with work and responsibility and commitment to others at the expense of fun with old friends.
“You should come running with me this weekend,” Kendal said. “I’m training for the marathon in May.”
“I haven’t run in years. I was doing yoga for a while, then I kind of lost interest.” No wonder her friend looked so fit. Kendal’s long hair made her face seem more rectangular than ever. The hip-hugging jeans lengthened her torso, and those three-inch heels on her boots put her at six feet. “You’re probably still the best athlete our high school ever had.”
“You weren’t so bad yourself.” Kendal grinned. “So, welcome to GenMart’s loss prevention office, or the security closet, as we call it.” She spread her arms to encompass the tiny, windowless room. “I’m really glad we’ll be working together.”
“It’s rare for MPT to team up with businesses, but whatever works.”
“Pull up a chair.”
The place barely fit the second chair, let alone the filing cabinet and desk. A short bench had been fastened to the wall opposite the desk.
“I’m guessing that the tiny room beside the bench is a holding pen for violent shoplifters?”
“You got it. More of them are tweaked out on drugs these days, and things can get crazy. A coworker got his nose busted a few months back.”
“Sounds like the job’s getting more dangerous. Are you sure you want to join the RCMP?”
“Absolutely.” Kendal clicked the mouse and four images appeared on a wall-mounted screen. Two of the images showed a boy with light blond hair. “I still think you should consider police work. There can’t be many more promotion opportunities at MPT.”
Kendal had already raised the subject on New Year’s Eve. Casey thought she’d explained this. “Like I said at the party, being second-in-command is good enough for now. Stan treats me well.”
“You really are the world’s most loyal person.”
Or the most undecided. Thirty-two years old and she still didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life. Casey studied the screen. “Tell me about your setup.”
“We have a dozen closed-circuit TV cameras.” Kendal moved the cursor to the menu on the left side of the screen. “I can create a total of sixteen panel images on the screen. The cameras are stationary, so I can’t pan or tilt them, but I can zoom in. We can see every corner of the store, with at least two cameras each in electronics and jewelry, plus one for cosmetics.”
“I gather the blond kid is one of the shoplifters?”
“Part of the trio, yeah. Here’s footage from a few days ago.” Kendal clicked the mouse and brought up an image of the electronics counter. “Watch Blondie grab two iPods from a box behind the counter. The sales associate wasn’t supposed to leave the box out in the open, but he’s new. One of Blondie’s cohorts keeps the associate busy at the games display case.” She clicked on another image that showed a stocky boy with olive skin and short, dark brown hair talking to the associate.
“How long did the boy keep him busy?”
“Five minutes.” Kendal brought up a third image. “This skinny, freckled kid is the lookout. He hovers in front of the counter, scoping things out. If he sees any staff or customers watching him or Blondie too closely, he signals them on his cell.”
Casey scribbled notes about the suspects. “Do the same three boys always show up?”
“Yeah.” Kendal clicked the mouse. “On this occasion, Blondie takes the iPods to boys’ wear, picks up a couple of T-shirts, then heads for the men’s fitting room.”
“Aren’t there change rooms in the kids’ department?”
“We have an attendant the
re. In menswear, the door’s kept locked and customers ring the buzzer for service. Since associates don’t have time to hang around after they’ve unlocked the door, the kid waits for a customer to come out, then grabs the door before it closes.” The screen showed Blondie doing exactly that. Kendal fast forwarded the footage. “He stays in the change room for seven and a half minutes before reappearing without the T-shirts. He left them in the room on top of the discarded iPod packaging.”
“Clever.”
“Once we realized what was happening, I reviewed archived footage and found the same three kids in different parts of the store six weeks earlier. They zigzag their way through the aisles to see if they are being followed and glance at the cameras periodically.”
“Wouldn’t they want to try and hide their faces?”
“We think the boys aren’t overly worried about it. After all, they’re minors who would have to be caught red-handed. So far, they’ve been too smart to let that happen.”
“Stan said they might be part of a larger crime ring. I guess they’re hitting electronics the most?”
“As well as jewelry, clothing, and shavers.”
“Shavers?”
“Surprisingly, they’re a popular target at many stores,” Kendal answered. “We now keep them locked up.”
Casey had read the file before meeting Kendal and was surprised to learn that over a thousand bucks in merchandise had been stolen in less than two months. How had the boys gotten away with so much? Kendal was an experienced loss prevention officer. Still, she couldn’t be here all the time, and who knew how competent her colleagues were?
“Half the time, the boys pay for small stuff like pop and gum,” Kendal said. “They like playing games, trying to throw us off.”
“You haven’t confronted them yet?” Casey saw the flash of annoyance and realized she’d offended her friend.
“How can I when I’ve never seen them actually take anything? The footage I showed you happened while another LPO was on duty. Loss prevention officers can’t touch anyone unless we see them pocket something and walk out of the store. We’re not even allowed to do checks at the door because it’s not customer friendly.”
The Deep End Page 3
