Best not to mention that it originated with one of the Friends who might have talked to the media. Casey still hadn’t had a chance to question Felicity.
“Here’s the thing,” she said. “How has the man always managed to escape on foot?”
Stan shrugged. “Maybe he has a car or a bike stashed close by.”
“Or maybe he lives on the streets and knows every hiding spot in and around Town Center Park. You and Benny both said that he smelled bad.”
“The RCMP came by again to ask a couple more questions, but didn’t share theories.”
“Did you see Benny before you left the hospital?”
“Briefly. We didn’t talk about the incident.” Stan cleared his throat. “Physically, he’s doing better, but mentally he still seems a little out of it.” His gaze drifted toward the bonsai. “Anyway, I’d better catch up on emails.”
Casey understood his reluctance to discuss Benny. They’d both worked here for years and had deep mutual respect. “I need a coffee.” She stood. “Want one?”
“No, thanks.”
Downstairs, Casey entered the lunchroom and exchanged smiles with mechanic, Roberto de Luca. He broke away from the women he’d been chatting with and ambled toward her. Perpetually sexy, with his salt-and-pepper hair, gorgeous green eyes, and formidable muscles, Roberto rarely spent his coffee breaks alone, which was how the perennial bachelor liked it.
“How are you managing without the garage?” she asked him.
“Not bad. We’ve thrown up a makeshift work area, but the heavier work’s being done off site.”
Casey surveyed the room. A few employees were eating, but no one was close enough to overhear. “Any theories about who the firebug is?”
Roberto’s smile faded. “Are you asking for yourself or Gwyn? ’Cause I heard that he wants you interrogating staff.”
She should have known he’d be sensitive to this. Roberto had been a person of interest after a colleague’s murder two years ago. The experience had nearly cost her their friendship. It had taken time to rebuild Roberto’s trust. She wasn’t about to lose it again.
“You’re right. Gwyn asked but I’m only going through the motions to keep him quiet. I don’t expect, or even want, anyone to say something that will put a coworker in an awkward position. Stan’s back and he’ll get Gwyn to stand down, I hope.”
“Glad he’s here.” Roberto peered at her as if he was puzzling over something. “I know this sounds weird coming from me, but I actually think you should talk to staff. Everyone knows how pissed Gwyn is, and if you don’t question people, then he could have the cops knocking on our doors. I know for a fact that most guys would rather talk to you than them.” Roberto glanced around the room. “Come outside a minute.”
Casey followed him as far as the staff parking lot.
Glancing at the sidewalk, he said, “Talk to Maurice. He was here when the garage went up. Hinted at seeing something, but he won’t say what.”
“Why was Maurice here so late?”
“Having coffee with a couple of drivers.” Roberto paused. “It gives him something to do. He needs the distraction and the coffee.”
“Distraction?”
Roberto looked around the lot. “Only a few of us know, but Maurice is in AA. This is the first job he’s had in a while. He’s a good mechanic and we don’t want to lose him. But I’m pretty sure he’s afraid that’s exactly what will happen if he talks.”
“Is he more worried about Gwyn or the cops?”
“Both. There were some incidents while he was living on the streets before he got sober.” Roberto again glanced at the sidewalk. “As soon as the explosion happened, Maurice took off. I think he’s worried that someone’s gonna confront him about that night and I’d rather it be you.” He pointed at the sidewalk. “He’s at the smoking tree.”
Smoking wasn’t permitted on the premises, so employees usually congregated beneath the big oak tree on the wide strip of grass bordering the sidewalk.
“Just chat, don’t interrogate, okay?” Roberto cautioned.
Casey hesitated. “Do you want to come with me? Put in a good word about my discretion?”
“Wish I could, but my break’s up. Good luck.”
Casey left the yard and headed for Maurice. With his back to the property, the thin, wiry man leaned against the tree and took a long drag on his cigarette.
She sauntered toward him. “Hello, Maurice.”
He turned to her with a pensive expression. “Hey.”
“How’s Mainland treating you?”
“Good.” He scratched the wisp of beard tracing his jawline.
She shoved her hands in her jeans pockets. “Crazy few days, huh?”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
“It’s not always this bad. I mean, we usually don’t experience fires and knife attacks.” She noted his guarded face. “Roberto thought it’d be okay to talk with you about the garage explosion on Monday night. He said you were with the drivers when it happened, so I was wondering if you saw anything.”
Maurice glanced up and down the street. “It scared the shit out of me and I took off.”
Casey nodded. “As you left, did you happen to see anyone running by the garage or down the sidewalk?”
Maurice stood up straighter. “I don’t want no cop knockin’ on my door.”
“Neither do I, but I’m worried that the suspect will try again and someone could wind up seriously hurt. If you have information, I won’t tell the cops it came from you, I promise.”
Bloodshot eyes studied her. “Those kinds of promises can break under pressure.” The man’s hand trembled as he took another drag on the cigarette. “I just want a nice, simple job. Don’t need enemies.”
Why was he worrying about making enemies, unless . . . “Witnesses described someone in a driver’s uniform running from the property right after the garage went up.” Based on the way he fidgeted, Casey sensed that she was onto something. “Did you see him too, Maurice?”
He shook his head. “Not a face.” He hesitated. “But yeah, there was some guy in a uniform.”
“Which direction did he go?”
“Came from behind the garage, climbed the fence, and ran across the road and down that side street.” He pointed to the same short road the witnesses had told her about.
Only two or three drivers would be athletic enough to climb a six-foot fence. “Think you could you estimate his height or weight?”
“Average, I guess. About my height.”
Maurice was shorter than most men, but Casey had learned never to contradict a man about his height. “What about hair color?”
“Didn’t see hair at all. Might have been wearing a tuque.” Maurice ground the cigarette into the sidewalk. “Gotta go.”
“Thanks for telling me, and I won’t break my promise.”
Maurice shrugged. “Like I said, if the cops show up, I ain’t saying nothin’.”
“Understood.” But had he told her everything he saw three nights ago?
SEVENTEEN
Casey paced around her living room, replaying her conversations with Maurice and Stan. Stan hadn’t wanted to believe a driver was involved in the explosions, yet he couldn’t ignore witness accounts.
She and Stan had agreed that only two drivers, Dimitri and Ethan, had the athletic ability and opportunity to run fast and scale fences. Stan jokingly said that Lou could probably jump a fence, which had caught her off guard.
“You know he wouldn’t do that, right?” she’d blurted. “He may be ticked with Gwyn, but he’d never resort to crime and violence. Besides he was driving when the incidents happened.”
“Relax.” Stan laughed. “I’m just messin’ with you.”
She should have realized that, but the depth of Lou’s anger was a sore spot. If Gwyn picked up on it, he’d target Lou.
She had managed to learn that, although Ethan had been driving when the Molotov cocktail set Gwyn’s office on fire, he’d been working a
day shift when the garage went up Monday night. Dimitri’s schedule was a little more uncertain. He was supposed to work Monday night but apparently switched with someone else at the last minute. Stan planned to talk to Dimitri’s supervisor about it.
“Isn’t it possible that a uniform was stolen by someone who doesn’t work here,” Casey had said, “or that a former employee didn’t hand his in?”
Stan thought they should focus on the most plausible angle first and had asked her not to share their discussion with anyone, including Lou. Part of her was relieved, but another part was worried that Lou and the security team would take offense at being kept out of the loop.
Lou emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel. “You’re home earlier than I thought you’d be,” he said.
“Stan showed up this morning. He’s working part-time and said I should rest before tonight’s shift.”
Lou pulled out a frying pan. “Isn’t it a little soon for him to be back?”
“Yeah, but he knows we need the extra help. For all I know, Gwyn badgered him into coming back because he doesn’t think I can handle things.”
“I’m making sausage and eggs for lunch,” he said. “You want any?”
“No, I’ll have what’s left of the salad.” She removed a container from the fridge. “Need to fit into my wedding dress.”
Lou smiled as he drew her to him. “You’ll look great no matter what.”
Casey kissed his full, sensuous lips. With everything that had happened lately, they hadn’t had nearly enough intimate time. At least his injuries had healed to the point where he wasn’t wincing when he sat or stood.
“I plan to look better than great,” she assured him. “I’m going for spectacular.”
“You will be.” He fetched the sausage and eggs. “Any leads on the firebug?”
“Not really.” She poured a light balsamic vinaigrette over the salad.
“I’ve been getting texts from some of the drivers.” He placed two sausages in the pan. “Word is that a guy in one of our uniforms was seen running from the garage.” Lou turned to her. “You hear anything about that?”
So much for secrecy and discretion. Maurice and Anoop already knew. How many others? She wouldn’t be surprised if Gwyn was going around muttering accusations. God knew the man wasn’t all that rational lately.
“Stan doesn’t want me discussing it with anyone.”
Lou gently took her salad and placed it on the table. “It’s not fair that we’re all under suspicion.” His face was close enough that she could count every freckle on his nose. Lou wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her forehead and massaged her shoulders. “Is the rumor true?”
Casey’s body tingled. “You’re not playing fair.”
“True.” Lou gently kneaded her shoulders. “But I need to know.”
Oh lord, the massage felt incredible. Her resolve was melting, and since word was out anyway...“Witness accounts said the suspect hopped the fence and ran away pretty damn fast and, yeah, he was in a uniform.”
“Are the witnesses reliable?”
“The ones I talked to recognized the MPT uniform. To the best of my knowledge, they have no connection to MPT and nothing against Gwyn.” She left Maurice’s name out of this. “Doubt they even know who he is.”
“Maybe Gwyn and Stan should focus on ex-employees,” Lou suggested. “Not everyone left under great circumstances or would have bothered to turn in their uniform.”
In other words, leave his friends alone. “Stan wants to rule out current employees first.”
Lou abandoned the massage to turn the sausages. “If a coworker did that, I’m not sure I blame him.”
Casey started to reach for her salad, then stopped. “Excuse me?”
“Have you forgotten what it’s like to be a driver?” His tone became edgy. “To be spit on, punched, and threatened every damn week while your employer does nothing to make things safer?”
“Of course I remember, but destroying MPT could throw every employee out of work. Gwyn’s acquired more buses with cameras, and the alarm system’s been upgraded. Using the security vehicle more often also helps, and yes, it’s not enough, but it’s better than it was.”
“Yet here we are, in more danger than ever.” Lou broke eggs into the frying pan. “Do you really think we should just accept this because of Gwyn’s lame attempt to make things safer? Shit, Casey. Think about it. He doesn’t even like you. Maybe we should both get the hell out of there.”
Did Lou expect her to quit right now? Sure, Gwyn was an idiot, but Stan and the team needed her. “I’m saying that I understand your frustration, which is why Stan’s lobbying harder for more improvements. But I really believe that we need to stick around and support our friends and coworkers until the arsonist and the Blade Man are caught.”
Lou’s solemn face relaxed a moment. “Okay.”
But it wasn’t okay. Not at all. Even if Lou knew which driver was involved, Casey had a feeling he wouldn’t tell her. She picked up her salad and prodded a cherry tomato, realizing that she’d lost her appetite. The landline rang. Casey turned to the phone. Only telemarketers and Rhonda used this number. Rhonda called on Sundays and this was Thursday, yet something told her to pick it up.
“Hello, Casey.”
“Rhonda?” Uh-oh. “Is everything all right?”
Rhonda cleared her throat. “There’s something I need to tell you. I, uh, well, I’ve been putting it off, but it can’t wait now.”
The back of Casey’s neck prickled. “What’s wrong?”
“A few weeks ago, I found a lump in my breast.” Rhonda sighed. “They sent me for tests, then a biopsy. The result wasn’t good.”
Casey tightened her grip on the phone. “Oh.”
“Long story short, a mastectomy’s coming up, but I don’t know the exact day or if it’ll be done here or in a hospital.”
Oh hell. Casey sank into the rocking chair. “Is it an aggressive cancer? What’s the prognosis?”
“Not sure.”
Casey’s mouth went dry. She wanted to ask how Rhonda was feeling, but it was a dumb question. How would anyone feel under those circumstances? “I wish you’d told me sooner.”
“I didn’t know how to deal with it. Still trying to process everything. And please don’t tell Summer. My life has burdened her enough.”
The tremor in her voice troubled Casey. She didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry—”
“No. I’m the one who’s sorry for being so short-tempered with you both. It’s just that this has been hard to deal with.”
“No kidding.” Casey paused. “I should bring Summer to see you.”
“No!” Rhonda sounded desperate. “I won’t be able to hold it together and I have to, understand? I cannot fall apart or show any emotional weakness right now. After I’ve had time to heal, you two can come visit.”
“But we won’t be back from our honeymoon until the third week of July.”
“That’s okay.”
Casey rubbed her forehead. Perspiration dampened her hairline. “It’s not, Rhonda. The wedding’s still three and a half weeks away and the honeymoon’s another two.”
“Don’t make me regret calling you.”
Casey’s eyes filled with tears. “Why did you call then?”
“Because.” Rhonda let out a sob. “I had to tell someone.”
Casey wiped the tears away. How could she persuade Rhonda that leaving her daughter in the dark was a horrible idea? “If there’s anything I can do, promise you’ll call, okay?”
“Sure.” Another pause. “Is Summer all right? Did you find out the boyfriend’s name?”
“We’re working on it.”
Could she possibly tell her the truth now? With the school year nearly over, Casey had no idea how they’d keep Summer out of trouble for two months. At least she’d be staying with Lou’s mom during the honeymoon. But after that?
“If I don’t get a chance to call before the wedding
,” Rhonda said, “I wish you and Lou all the love and luck in the world.”
“Of course we’ll talk before then.”
“Take lots of pictures.”
She hung up before Casey could say goodbye. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Suddenly, she was aware of Lou kneeling in front of her and removing the phone from her hand. Leaning into Lou, she cried. It wasn’t just about Rhonda’s cancer, but about the broken relationship between mother and daughter, about all the decisions and circumstances that made it so painfully clear that she, Rhonda, and Summer were still living with too much hurt.
“What’s going on?” Lou asked.
Casey explained in two short sentences, then sniffled. “I know Rhonda’s caused a lot of pain, but I also remember all the comfort and support she gave me in my teens. Breast cancer on top of a twenty-five-year prison sentence feels like a pretty damn harsh punishment, especially when any chance of parole’s still seven years away.”
“I know.” Lou rubbed her back. “You were smart not to say anything about Tyler. Summer’s fourteen. The relationship won’t last.”
“But it could last long enough to do some serious damage, even change her life forever.” She shook her head. “Where have I gone wrong?”
“You haven’t. You’re doing a great job in a tough situation. You’ve been beating yourself up way too much.”
Maybe, maybe not. Casey couldn’t escape the feeling that she was failing this child a little more every year. How could she stop the downward spiral?
“Once the grounding is over, what do we do about Summer and Tyler?” Casey asked.
“Not sure,” he replied, “but we’ll figure it out.”
Casey watched Ralphie snooze in his cage. He was a senior in guinea pig years and slept more now. How many more years did he have left? How much time did Rhonda have? Were things more dire than she’d admitted?
“Since we’re both working tonight, should we have someone check in on Summer?” Lou asked.
“Good question.” Casey paused. “Maybe Kendal could swing by. She often works Thursday evenings at the store, and I know she wouldn’t mind. I’ll give her a call.”
“We should check out Tyler,” he said. “See if he’s as devious as his petty criminal brother.”
The Blade Man Page 13