“Seems so. His mom’s still here and she looks upset.”
“Stay on the phone. I’ll use my landline.” Casey tried Denver’s cell, but it went to voice mail. She called 911 and, after explaining the situation, was assured they’d handle it. She returned to Danielle. “Curious for him to leave in the middle of a semester. You scared him off, didn’t you?”
“I think Liam MacKenna did. He showed up at Eagle’s house last night, and now the kid’s taking off.”
“Damn it, Danielle. Were you staking out Eagle again? Were you there all night?”
“I fell asleep in the car, then woke when I heard a vehicle pull out of the garage at 5:00 AM. I recognized Eagle and the lady from the Regency right away, so I followed them.”
Casey shook her head. “Was MacKenna in uniform? Did he approach you?”
“No to both. If he’d seen me, I’m sure jerk-face would have told me to take off. Did you hear about the hit and run last night?”
“Two minutes ago.”
“I bet the vehicle was stolen. Anyhow, Eagle wasn’t the driver. He was home when those people were hit. MacKenna swung by a half hour before the crash, and Mancuso showed up at the house an hour after MacKenna left. Neither of them stayed more than five minutes.”
“Why is the kid so popular?”
“He knows who mowed down Beatrice Dunning, so he has one hell of a secret to protect. That’s probably why he’s leaving town.” Danielle paused. “There’s something else the cops should know. I think the hit-and-run killer could belong to Roadkill after all.”
“What changed your mind?”
“The buzz on all the forums, though no one’s saying if the killer’s an A-team driver or one of the others. This time I’ll press Dominic for info.”
Casey watched her guinea pig, Ralphie, munch on pellets. “Bad plan.”
“No, it isn’t. He asked me out again for tonight, even though he’s broke.”
“Mancuso told you that?”
“He implied it. Said he’s holding down two jobs, as a mechanic and an electrician. And he only bought us one beer each. Spent the whole time going on about movies and kickboxing. Dom loves to talk. If I buy a few rounds, he may open up about racing.”
Casey dropped her feet onto one of Lou’s boxes. “Sounds risky, what with all that beer, and he is pretty hot. Things could get out of hand.”
“I don’t swing that way, so no worries there.”
“What if Dominic doesn’t handle rejection well? For all we know, he could be the killer.”
“My gut tells me he isn’t. Besides, I’ll only see him in public.”
“Danielle, no—”
“I’ll call tomorrow and let you know how things went. I might try talking to Harvey and Bashir Kumar too.”
“Who is Bashir Kumar?”
“The guy who owns the red Impreza. He goes by the name Speed Demon, and I know where he lives. Cool, huh?”
No, not cool at all. “How did you find out all that? I thought Richie wasn’t helping you anymore.”
“With the leverage I have on him, he doesn’t have a choice.”
“What kind of leverage?” She waited, but Danielle didn’t respond. This was going from bad to worse. “Come on, Danielle.”
“Richie’s parents would freak if they knew about his relationship with Roadkill. After the accident, they didn’t want him to have anything to do with racing or racers. They already keep a tight leash on him because of the head injuries. All I have to do is threaten him with his parents and he tells me what I need to know, sort of.”
“Why did Richie go see the racers at the donut shop?”
“To complete a business transaction.”
“What kind of transaction?”
Danielle took a few seconds to answer. “I saw him give Kumar a wad of cash at the table. He finally admitted that he’s an errand boy for the bookie who pays the racers.”
The kid was in deep. “Did you talk to Richie about last night?”
“No, but I will. I also need to find out if he thinks Liam MacKenna might be racing again.”
“You honestly think that’s possible?” Casey wasn’t overly impressed with MacKenna, but she couldn’t picture him stooping that low.
“Racing’s an addiction that doesn’t go away easily.”
“It nearly killed him, and now he has a great job with a pension.”
“Yet he knew about the meeting at Winnie’s Donuts, which only insiders would’ve known.”
“Couldn’t he have a source too?” Casey asked. “MacKenna might have showed up to let Roadkill know he was around. Make them think twice about racing again.”
“Maybe. We should still watch Kumar and Mueller, though.”
“No. Too many of them know what we drive.”
“I’m using Ginny’s Jeep now.”
“Ginny?”
“My girlfriend, Virginia.”
“Your dad won’t let you have the car, huh?”
“That’s not it.” She paused again. “His tires were slashed in our driveway two nights ago, so I’ve changed cars. Before you start lecturing, yes, I’m watching my back.”
Casey remembered the powerful engine she’d heard at work and the dark car speeding past Mainland’s entrance. “Have you heard any souped-up engines on your street?”
“Once, and I thought I saw a black, sporty car behind me the other day, but it took off in another direction.”
Casey told her about the incident outside Mainland. After that there wasn’t much else to say. Danielle was so bent on stopping Roadkill that nothing could throw her off track. The only thing to do was monitor her closely and try to keep the overzealous girl-reporter safe.
Casey pulled up a list of cars and drivers she’d compiled on her laptop, then typed Bashir Kumar’s name next to the red Impreza. Hellhound Harvey owned the purple Camry. Dominic owned the gray Dodge Neon. Eagle’s car was a gold Mitsubishi. Her fingertip paused at the black BMW. Morris Mueller’s car was the only black vehicle among the hardcore drivers. Was his the vehicle she’d spotted racing past Mainland? The car might not have been black, though. It could have been the purple Camry. Liam MacKenna drove a dark Mazda, and he seemed to show up at interesting times.
Casey logged into one of the racing forums Danielle had told her about. Members were speculating about whether Roadkill was responsible for last night’s hit and run. Hastings and Carrall skirted the Downtown Eastside, an area populated by drug addicts, alcoholics, and the homeless, including some with mental illness. Someone wrote about the victims: Probably a couple of losers so drunk they stepped into the street without looking up. Others agreed. Only one person thought it outrageous that no one had stopped to help them.
Ralphie stood on his hind legs and whistled. Casey picked up the black and white guinea pig, then sat in her rocking chair and placed him on a towel. The moment she stroked him, he began cooing. Her phone rang.
“Got your message,” Denver said. “Airport authorities have been alerted. If they’re on the ball, Eagle will be detained.”
“Has anyone questioned him?”
“No, but I will soon.”
“Did you find last night’s hit-and-run vehicle?”
“It was an old Celica torched in Stanley Park at the Third Beach parking lot,” he answered. “Do you know if any of your team were working in that area?”
“Not that I know of, but I can ask Stan.”
Stanley Park was only a few minutes away from Hastings and Carrall. “Who were the victims?”
“One was a social worker named Chantel Green. She was with her client, Jason Charlie, an eighteen-year-old who’d just landed his first job.”
Casey felt like a rock had rolled through her stomach. Denver needed to know everything. “Danielle says that Richard Kim is not only gambling on Roadkill races, but also working for the bookie who pays racers their winnings. She saw him hand money to a guy named Bashir Kumar Wednesday night. He drives a red Subaru Impreza.”
“You know him?”
“Yes. She isn’t planning to approach him, is she?”
“She wants me to help her watch him and Morris Mueller, the fifth Roadkill member.”
Denver uttered a couple of profanities. “Kumar’s bad news. Violent and, considering the three assault complaints against him, misogynistic.”
“Any convictions?”
“He hires good lawyers,” Denver replied. “Danielle Carpenter needs to stay far away from him.”
“I’ll make sure she knows, but there’s something else.” Casey didn’t really want to say this, but Denver needed to know. “While Danielle was staking out Eagle’s place last night, Liam MacKenna showed up and had a quick talk with Eagle. She’s wondering if his appearance might have something to do with Eagle’s sudden departure.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” He paused. “That stays between us, okay?”
“Sure.” As much as she wanted to know what was going on with MacKenna and Roadkill, she knew Denver wouldn’t tell her. “There’s one more bit of news.” She took a deep breath. “Danielle has a date with another Roadkill member, Dominic Mancuso. They’re going to a pub in Richmond called the River’s End tonight, and, short of tying her to a chair, I see no way to stop it. Do you know Mancuso as well?”
“He’s been on the racing circuit a while. Calls himself the Dominator. Other than a handful of speeding tickets, he’s managed to stay out of serious trouble so far.”
After their conversation ended, Casey put Ralphie back in his cage. She was about to return to the dishes when her buzzer rang. She looked at the intercom. Who would show up at this time of morning? She pressed the button. “Hello?”
“It’s Greg. Got a minute?”
What the hell was he doing here? Thoughts of Tina’s confrontation made her want to say something nasty. Better yet, why not tell him to his face?
“Be down in a minute.”
Casey jogged down the two flights of stairs, eager to get this over with. On the main floor, she unbolted the front door and cringed at Greg’s hangdog stare.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
She opened the door wider.
“The place hasn’t changed,” he remarked.
The last time Greg stood in this hallway, they were still married. They’d come here nearly every Sunday for Rhonda’s roast beef dinners. That seemed like a long time ago. Greg didn’t belong here anymore, and she’d never let him see her cozy third-floor refuge.
“I heard about the suspension,” he said, “and gave Stan my statement. Hope it helps.”
How humiliating. “Thanks.”
He glanced at Rhonda’s collection of pen-and-ink landscapes on the wall. “Tina told me about your chat.”
Right, here it came. “Is that what she called it?”
He blinked a couple times, looking confused. “Tina said she asked you for help, and you refused.”
“She wanted me to reduce the rent, then got pissed off when I wouldn’t. Called me the selfish bitch you think I am.”
“She said that?” Greg’s mouth fell open. “Seriously?”
“Damn right. Guess she skipped that last bit, huh?”
He rubbed his hands on his jeans. “I’m real sorry, Casey. Tina made up that shit about you being selfish. I’ve never said that and never would.”
She didn’t like the way his expression was softening. “She thought I wanted to evict you. Did you set her straight?”
“Uh, could I sit down a minute?”
Might as well get this over with. She headed into the living room. While Casey sat, Greg zeroed in on the Christmas village spread over the fireplace hearth, down a makeshift step, and onto the cotton batting on the floor.
“Christmas already?”
“Summer’s idea.”
He smiled. “How’s she doing?”
“Fine.”
“It must be hard without Rhonda.”
Summer and Rhonda weren’t open for discussion. “Did you set Tina straight or not?”
Greg rested his elbows on his knees and lowered his head. God, he looked terrible with all those extra pounds and major hair loss. He’d just turned thirty-two.
“I was trying to avoid another fight, so I didn’t tell her about giving notice,” he replied. “She knows now, and if I’d known what she’d said to you, I would have made her apologize in person, like I’m here to do.”
“I don’t care what your wife thinks of me, and I’m not interested in an apology.”
Greg’s gaze drifted to the lava lamps. Of course, he’d remember them. Greg gave Lou the big purple one for Christmas a few years ago, when they were still friends.
“So, it’s true.” He sat upright. “Lou’s moved in?”
Was that why he hadn’t apologized by phone? Because he wanted to see for himself? “My personal life isn’t your business.”
Greg huffed. “The wait for you finally paid off,” he remarked. “I take it you got over your intimacy issues?”
The jab stung. After she’d found out about Tina, she and Greg had their worst fight ever. He’d wanted to know if there was someone else. In the heat of the moment, she’d blurted that she didn’t feel close to any man and probably never would. That’s when he accused her of being incapable of genuine intimacy.
Casey stood. “Time for you to leave.” She marched out of the room and opened the front door.
“Look, I’m sorry, but the truth is Lou was always hovering around, waiting for a chance to steal you away.”
“He was best man at our wedding, Greg. You invited him over all the time, and you were the one who screwed around, not me.” She hadn’t expected to feel this calm. A good sign that none of this mattered anymore.
“You’re right.” He looked uncertain. “It’s just that . . . well, losing you was a mistake I’ll always regret.”
Casey had no regrets; not anymore. She opened the door. “You don’t belong here.”
“I don’t blame you for still hating me.”
“I don’t hate you,” she said. “You’re just not part of my life now.”
Greg’s jaw grew slack. He stepped onto the porch. “What will you do with the house?”
“Sell it, I suppose.”
“You loved that place. It’s where you grew up.”
“I’ve moved on, Greg. So should you.”
His hangdog face was back. “I’ll leave it in good shape.”
Casey shut the front door, leaned against it, and exhaled slowly. She’d loved him once, yet sometimes she thought she’d only married Greg to prove to herself—maybe even to her father—that marriage and monogamy could work, that she could handle intimacy and loyalty far better than Mother had. In some ways, she hadn’t. Now there was a new opportunity to build a fully committed relationship, one that might even involve having a baby some day. After all, she was only thirty-one. Still, Lou had only suggested moving in. Maybe he wanted to see how things went before they talked marriage. Was part of him unsure about her? Casey closed her eyes. Given the past, he had every right to be.
FIFTEEN
CASEY TRIED TO SHOVE HER thong, bikini, low-rise, and high-cut underwear to the back of the drawer, but the crush merely expanded back into place. She wished she’d tackled this drawer sooner, but the term paper, house cleaning, and other chores had taken too much time. She’d assured Lou he wouldn’t need to move his bureau in, and unless she wanted a really crowded bedroom, she had better be right. Besides, after Greg’s cheap shot about her intimacy issues, Casey was more determined than ever to accommodate Lou. She just wished she hadn’t told him about Greg’s visit.
“It was bad enough that he broke your heart by screwing around with Tina,” Lou had said. “Now he’s telling you it was a big mistake? I knew it! That asshole wants you back.”
She’d left out Greg’s crack about her intimacy issues. How could she admit that he’d exposed her deepest fear? Should she tell Lou that her heart hadn’t been
all that broken when her marriage ended? Everyone at work had said how remarkably well she’d taken their split and how mature she’d been to let Greg stay in her house. The gesture had been neither difficult nor generous. His affair had made her realize that she hadn’t enjoyed living with Greg even before Tina came on the scene and that part of her—a small part—had been almost glad to be rid of him, although it had taken a couple of years to admit that to herself. Allowing him to rent the house at a reasonable price was compensation for her guilt.
Casey shut the drawer. If she wasn’t suspended, maybe she wouldn’t be wallowing in so much negative thinking. Yesterday, Stan phoned to say that the twins and their mother missed the second meeting with Gwyn, without explanation this time. Stan had wanted to lift her suspension right away, but Gwyn didn’t want the family accusing Mainland Public Transport of brushing them off, so he’d given the Wieczs a third chance. The meeting was to have taken place at 5:00 PM yesterday. At seven, a frustrated Stan had called to say that the family had bailed again.
“I pressed Gwyn to lift the suspension,” Stan had said. “He wants me to drive out to their place and see what’s going on. If the Wieczs refuse to see him tomorrow, the suspension ends.”
Tomorrow had become today. It was now just after 9:00 PM, and Stan still hadn’t called. Casey was trying not to let it upset her, but hell, one week of suspension was more than enough. If he didn’t call . . . She shoved the ugly thoughts from her mind and opened another dresser drawer, just as her phone rang. She barely had a chance to say, “Hello.”
“I’m at the fitness center and need help!” Danielle shouted. “Come get me!”
“What’s going on?” No response. “Danielle?”
The line went dead. Fear wriggled down Casey’s spine. She dialed Danielle’s number. No answer. Casey grabbed her purse and jacket. On her way downstairs, she dialed 911 and told them about the call.
“I don’t know if someone’s threatened her or what,” she told the dispatcher. “Danielle wouldn’t have asked for help if she didn’t need it. She thought someone had been following her.”
After being assured they’d send someone out, Casey hurried into Rhonda’s living room, where Summer, Jacob, and Lou were painting a Christmas scene on the large picture window. Jacob, dressed in black and wearing a studded choke collar, was outlining a red bow on a Christmas present. The little twit stopped and placed a hand on Summer’s back.
Beneath the Bleak New Moon Page 11