In charge? Crap. Her phone beeped. “I’ve got another call coming in. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Count on it.”
She winced at Rude Wesley Axelson’s unnecessarily loud, “What the hell went on there?”
Despite his gruffness, Casey knew that he liked and respected Stan. After she supplied a quick update, she arranged to meet him at a specific bus stop in ten minutes.
The cop escorted her and Adrianna to the police cruiser. Adrianna climbed in the backseat and leaned her head against the window, closing her eyes. Casey wanted to do the same, but resting wasn’t an option and wouldn’t be for who knew how long? Working both her and Stan’s job would be overwhelming, but she’d have to find a way.
Glancing down, Casey cringed at the sight of small splotches and speckles of blood on her bright yellow jacket. She took a deep breath, but it didn’t ease the sick feeling inside. She needed to clear her head, calm down and think. She should call Stan’s wife, Nora. If something terrible ever happened to Lou, she’d want a firsthand account. Only how could she tell Nora that she’d been only yards away and still hadn’t protected him?
The officer let them wait in the vehicle until Wesley pulled up to the stop. Once settled inside the bus, Casey dialed Stan’s home landline.
When Nora answered, Casey’s mouth grew dry. “It’s Casey. Sorry to call so late.”
“It’s okay, sweetie. I’m about to leave for the hospital. Tell me what you know.”
Casey was amazed at how calm she sounded, but then Nora was a retired ER nurse. Forty years of experience wouldn’t completely vanish, even for her husband.
After Casey provided the highlights, she mumbled an apology. “I should have paid closer attention. Maybe I could have stopped him.”
“Or maybe you could have been killed. Now listen to me. It’s better that you weren’t too close, and you know how strong Stan is. He’ll pull through and we’ll both be at your wedding. It’ll take a lot more than this for him to miss such a special day.”
Casey choked out a thank-you as tears began to spill.
ELEVEN
From her third-floor suite, Casey peered out the bay window overlooking the front yard. The willow tree’s draping branches obstructed much of her view of Napier Street, a view she’d scarcely stopped scanning for over an hour. Summer was ninety minutes past curfew and she’d just trashed the last of Casey’s trust. Her anger was accompanied by the revelation that she wasn’t particularly shocked about the missed curfew.
The attack on Stan had upset Casey so much that she’d come home just after eleven instead of her usual time of 1:30 to 2:00 AM. On Saturdays, Summer was supposed to be home by midnight. No doubt she’d show up in a few minutes, and then what? Casey’s emotions were running too high and she wasn’t sure she could rein them in. Her latest call to Summer minutes ago had ended in yet another voice mail.
“I want you to call me right now,” Casey ordered. “I’m home and you’re way past curfew.”
Casey listened to her guinea pig Ralphie munch on a small piece of carrot. Aside from Lou’s voice, it was the only comforting sound she’d heard all night. Cheyenne had fallen asleep by Ralphie’s cage, and Lou would be home shortly. If Summer wasn’t back by then there’d be hell to pay.
Lou had phoned her again a half hour ago to ask if she was feeling okay, to tell her how certain he was that Stan would pull through. But Lou hadn’t seen the blood on her hands. He hadn’t been there. She wanted to believe him, but . . . Stretching out on the window seat, Casey propped her back against the wall, dialed Summer, and left another message.
“If you don’t call me back, I’ll phone the cops.” A lame threat. They couldn’t do anything, but she wanted to say it anyway.
What if Summer wanted to call back but couldn’t? No. That kind of thinking wasn’t helpful. Anger and strategizing were better. If she could figure out who the boyfriend was, then it would at least answer one question. His name and number would be in Summer’s phone. All she had to do was take a peek somehow.
Casey closed her eyes. Had it really come to this? She thought Summer had learned something after hanging with that petty criminal Devon Price. Maybe she had. Maybe she was making brand new mistakes.
A vehicle stopped out front. Casey opened her eyes and jumped to her feet to see a small black car idling in front of the house. The passenger door opened. A fairly tall, skinny guy hurried around the front and helped Summer out of the car. She couldn’t see his face, just his short dark hair. Wait. Devon Price had a similar build, didn’t he? She couldn’t quite remember.
Casey bounded out of her apartment. Not wanting to wake the tenants, she left the hall light off and jogged down the carpeted steps, with Cheyenne scampering past her.
The deadbolt turned and Summer stepped inside. Cheyenne whimpered and did her happy dance, nudging Summer’s hand with her nose.
“Shush,” Summer whispered to Cheyenne, and closed the door.
“Hello, Summer.”
Summer gasped, smacked into the wall and fell. Casey flipped on the light to find her on the floor, her raven hair in her face, a beer stench wafting around her.
Casey crossed her arms. “Why didn’t you return my calls, and where the hell have you been?”
“My phone died. I was at a party and didn’t know.”
Casey fought to keep her voice hushed. “You’re over two hours late for curfew.”
“I am?” Summer swept her hair off her face to reveal smudged eyeliner and red lipstick. She struggled to her feet, reaching for the railing, and started upstairs.
“How much beer did you drink?”
“What?”
“I can smell it from here, Summer.”
Her ward managed two more steps before she swayed and gripped the railing. “Whoa.” The bags under her blue eyes gave her a haunted appearance. She groaned and climbed each step slowly.
Casey stayed close behind to make sure the kid didn’t break her neck. “Stacy said you were out with your boyfriend. Who is he?”
Summer put her hand on her stomach. “I don’t feel good.”
“Don’t care. You broke house rules and at least one law that I know of. Give me a name.”
“He’s just a friend. Not a boyfriend.”
Casey’s patience unraveled a little further. “What is the friend’s name?”
Summer groaned again and continued up the stairs. Casey’s neck and shoulders tightened. “You’re grounded for three weeks.”
“Not fair!”
“Show me your phone.”
“No! Oh god. I’m gonna puke.”
“Then get upstairs.”
Summer picked up the pace and rushed into her bedroom. Within seconds, came the sound of well-deserved retching.
Casey sat on the bed and waited. Lou appeared in the doorway, lunch pail in hand, his jacket tossed over his shoulder.
Heavy-lidded eyes peered at her. “What happened?”
The more Casey explained, the more annoyed he looked.
“You think grounding her for three weeks will help?” The weary lines on his brow lengthened.
“It was all I could think of.” What else was she supposed to do, and why debate this right now? “We’ve both had a long night. Let’s figure it out tomorrow. I’ll be up shortly.”
Casey heard his footsteps pound the staircase while more retching noises came from the bathroom. Should she have dealt with Summer differently? How? What could she possibly do to fix this?
Summer finally emerged, her head lowered, her eyes partially closed as she shuffled to her bed and collapsed.
“Drink lots of water and take a couple of Aspirin,” Casey said, glancing at the clothes littering the floor. “I expect you to clean this messy room tomorrow and do your laundry.”
“Why are you being so mean?”
“Because you put your health and safety at risk, and you hid your friend from me.”
Summer draped her arm over her forehead and eyes. “You’ll hate him befo
re you get to know him.”
“You’re not giving me a damn chance!” Casey shot back. She waited for Summer’s response, but none came. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, which means your mom will call. One of us will have to tell her about this.”
“Who’s she to judge me?” Summer propped herself up on her elbow, her face twisted with disdain. “What she did was a lot worse than anything I’ve ever done!”
Where on earth did that come from? “You never used to think that way.”
“I was eleven when she went to prison. I’ll be fifteen in two months.” Summer scowled. “You expect me to think the same?”
Casey had no answer for that. Summer’s attitude toward her mother had been an emotional pendulum. Sometimes she missed Rhonda terribly. Other times anger and resentment took hold, but usually not to this degree. What if the animosity became permanent? Did Summer hope to lessen the pain of missing her by staying angry? Casey shook her head. She lacked the energy or desire to start a lengthy discussion about Ronda.
“We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
“Whatever.”
Casey left the room. Summer’s issues wouldn’t be resolved in one conversation. But before this weekend was over, she would learn this so-called friend’s name one way or another.
TWELVE
Casey trudged upstairs to the security department. For the first time in ages, there’d be no Monday morning meeting with Stan. Ordinarily, the department’s administrative assistant Amy would prioritize the week’s tasks, but she was still away.
Catching up on work here yesterday afternoon had seemed like a good idea, given that no admin personnel worked Sundays, but there’d been a bombardment of emails and voice mails asking about Stan. She’d responded only to the security team, telling them that Nora was certain Stan would be okay. Better not to reveal the rest of their conversation.
“I don’t want to worry you,” Nora had said, “but Stan could start thinking about retiring after this.”
“I understand,” was her numb reply. Would she even want to work here without him?
Entering the security area, Casey was startled to see that Stan’s office door was open. When she left yesterday, she’d made sure she locked it. As Casey drew closer, she heard typing. She poked her head inside and saw Gwyn. Right. Made sense. He had a master key to everything. Gwyn had called her early yesterday morning, demanding a full description of the attack and that she complete the incident report by Sunday afternoon.
“About time you got here,” he grumbled. “I need you to handle some things.”
Casey wanted to reply that this was her usual time, then thought better of it. “Sure.”
“Stan’s phone messages.” Gwyn handed her the old-style, pink message slips that Stan and Amy still used. “I pulled the ones I’ll deal with.”
Casey flipped through the first few. “Do you want me to go through his emails too?”
“Already have. I forwarded you a bunch, and don’t delete them. I want Stan to see everything when he comes back.”
Barely listening to Gwyn prattle on about other tasks, Casey noticed that his dress shirt seemed too tight for him. His neck had all but disappeared beneath that big bald head. The weight gain had happened quickly. Her eyes widened as Gwyn slurped from Stan’s Old Fart, Big Heart mug. How dare he use Stan’s personal mug! She’d given it to him for Christmas a few years back.
“What with all the work on your plate,” Gwyn droned on, “you should cut your evening shifts to just one a week. Have Marie and Anoop pick up the slack, and make sure you send the timesheets to payroll by deadline.”
“Of course.” He probably didn’t know that she’d been helping Stan with timesheets for ages.
“The police sent more footage from the riot, which I’ve also forwarded to you. Study every frame and see if any of those shit-disturbers have been on our buses since that night. For all I know, one of them could be the maniac running around trying to kill my employees and burn my bloody office. Let me know what you find before the day’s over.”
Casey still wasn’t convinced that the same man was responsible for the fires and the stabbings. “Two of them were spotted on Benny’s bus, which was reported to the police.”
“I know that, but I’m looking for more.” Gwyn’s hazel eyes flared and his complexion darkened. “I want every one of those bastards nailed, and if you can’t do it, I’ll find someone who can.”
What was she supposed to do? Snap her fingers and make the bad guys magically appear?
“The police are on this, Gwyn. I’m doing two jobs as it is, and they have more time and resources.”
“Regardless, take a few minutes at lunch to question staff.” He straightened his crimson tie. “Look, Casey, I haven’t had a single report from you. Have you even questioned drivers yet?”
She sighed. “I spoke with Ethan and Wesley, and they didn’t see anyone. There was nothing to report.”
“Not good enough.” His eyes glowered. “You need to help find who’s behind this, and if you’re not interested in doing so, then maybe you should rethink your future here.”
A second veiled threat to get rid of her. Was this jerk looking for an excuse? It was obvious that Gwyn had never liked her, but he was beginning to sound determined. If that was true, she had no intention of making it easy for him.
“I have a meeting in a few minutes.” Gwyn swiveled back to the computer screen. “Keep this door locked when I’m not around.”
“Of course.” Casey stared at the man. Wasn’t he going to ask for an update on Stan’s condition or suggest sending flowers? “Nora said that Stan’s going to be okay.”
“I know.” He tossed her an irritated glance. “Anything else?”
“No.” Asshole. She charged out of the room, not bothering to shut the door.
Marie strolled into the office. The crow’s feet around her eyes had deepened and her face was so pale that the freckles on her cheeks looked darker.
“What’s the latest on Stan?” she asked Casey.
Casey highlighted her chat with Nora. “Gwyn wants you and Anoop to work more evening shifts while I do Stan’s job.”
“I’m already doing too many.”
“I know. Take it up with the boss.” She nodded toward Stan’s office.
“Whatever.” Marie went to her desk. “By the way, we were a half hour late getting in last night, so I’m adding overtime on my timesheet. Don’t give me any grief about it.”
“Are you always that bossy?” Gwyn entered the room and put on his jacket.
Furious eyes turned on him. “I just want what I’m entitled to.”
“An ongoing theme with you.” Gwyn headed for the exit. “Everyone needs to step up until Stan’s back.” He turned to Casey. “I want to see a revised work schedule before lunch.” He glanced at Marie. “And I’ll review all timesheets before you submit them.”
He marched out of the security department, nearly smacking into Anoop who was on his way in.
“Just great,” Casey muttered. “He’s going to micro manage everything.”
Even behind the glasses, Anoop’s bloodshot eyes were hard to miss.
“Looks like graveyard’s taking its toll,” Marie said to him.
“I’m managing.” He shrugged, turning to Casey. “Everything was quiet here last night.”
“Good, thanks. I’m putting you back on the buses on evenings,” Casey said. “Wayne and Zoltan can do graveyard patrols. I’ll email you the revised schedule.”
Anoop sighed. “Thanks.”
“The rookies won’t like that,” Marie said.
“I know, but Gwyn expects more from all of us.”
Casey sat down and got to work. After thirty minutes of struggling to prepare a schedule that would meet their needs and Gwyn’s demands, she had to face reality. There simply weren’t enough security people to go around.
In desperate need of a break, she switched to the camera footage Gwyn wanted reviewed. Surprisingly clear i
mages showed a large placard being thrown at a crowd of anxious people scurrying out of the park. She figured that the bonfire and subsequent brawl had already begun at that point.
The sound of exploding firecrackers made some people scream. Parents carrying small children began to run. Judging from the angle, the camera was situated at the SkyTrain station near Town Center Park. Casey frequently stopped the footage to study faces. None were familiar.
When the footage ended, she opened the second attachment to find herself looking at Glen Drive, just a few yards east of her and Wesley’s location that night. Casey scanned the crowd until a young woman’s raven hair caught her attention. She sat forward and zoomed in, then took a quick intake of breath. Summer! She remembered Lou saying that he thought he’d seen her there. Casey zeroed in on the guy who had his arm draped over Summer’s shoulder. Oh hell. Bloody Devon Price, and he was chugging a beer.
“For shit’s sake!”
“What?” Marie asked.
Casey swiveled her chair around and looked from her to Anoop. “Summer was at the riot with her old boyfriend, Devon Price. She’s right there on the footage!”
“Isn’t that the kid who made trouble for us a while back?” Marie asked.
“The one and only.” Devon’s deceit and manipulative streak probably hadn’t changed. “Which one of them should I kill first?”
“My daughter’s only three.” Anoop gave her a weak smile. “Not my area of expertise.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” Marie said, “but you’ll need a less volatile way to handle this.”
“I can’t believe she’d go out with that idiot again after the way things ended.”
“Hate doesn’t always last,” Anoop offered.
“He’s right,” Marie added. “Tread carefully. If you trash him, Summer’ll just dig in and rebel.”
Marie would know. Two of her three kids were teenage girls and, based on her stories, already a handful.
“Has Summer been behaving differently?” Marie asked.
Casey hesitated before nodding. “She’s been uncharacteristically cheerful and leaving the house all dressed up, supposedly to do a photoshoot for a friend’s photography class.”
The Blade Man Page 9