The Deep End

by Debra Purdy Kong

  “Cool.” He started to leave the room, then stopped. “Think you’ll visit Kendal soon?”

  Lou had asked her before, but she’d put him off. She still couldn’t express how depressing and frightening it would be, how she just wasn’t ready to face the tubes and needles and machines binding her friend to a bed.

  “If I get this essay finished, I’ll go.”

  “Good.” Lou headed for the kitchen. “I was thinking we could talk tonight about setting a wedding date.”

  “Sure.” With all that had happened over the last couple of days, she’d barely had time for his proposal to sink in. And why was he bringing this up now when they’d had all morning to discuss it? Had he been that angry?

  “How does a mid-August ceremony on the beach sound?”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Mom will have something to say about skipping a church wedding, even though she’s already married off two kids that way.” He picked up the bagged lunch he’d made. “I’m pretty sure I can talk her into this.”

  Possible conflict already? “Have you told her the big news yet?”

  “No. She’ll insist on a family celebration and you’ve got enough on your plate.”

  “Thanks.” Lou might not approve of her quest for answers, but at least he respected her commitment to helping find those accountable. It was one of many reasons she was marrying him. “I’ll check out the calendar.” August was six months away. Plenty of time to arrange a simple, romantic wedding.

  “Great. I should be home at six. Thank god for the short shift.” Lou kissed her and left.

  Did his sudden cheerfulness mean things were back to normal between them, or was she deluding herself? Either way, she had a lot to do before he came home.

  Casey resumed work on her suspect list, describing every incident and event since her first shift at Fraserview. It wasn’t hard. She’d kept detailed notes. This morning, she’d created a spreadsheet listing the four primary suspects in Mac’s and Winson’s deaths and Kendal’s hospitalization: Mia, Oksana, Amir, and Cristano Cruz. She’d also come up with a secondary list: Rawan, Mercedes, and that little delinquent Jamal. Casey typed possible means and motives beside each name on her primary list, yet she was missing something—aside from solid evidence—that she hoped to obtain shortly.

  Summer entered the apartment, her face flushed and frowning. Cheyenne jogged into the room behind her and headed for the guinea pig’s cage.

  “What’s wrong?” Casey asked.

  “Devon’s talkin’ shit about me.” She plunked into the rocking chair. “Everyone’s texting about it.”

  “I know it’s irritating, but what he or others think doesn’t matter. You know that, right?”

  “I guess.” She began rocking. “Worse things were said about me after Mom went to prison, so I can handle it. Just wish I didn’t have to. By the way, Mom called last night.”

  “Glad to hear it. How’s she doing?”

  “She’s stoked that I dumped Devon.” Summer shrugged and attempted a smile. “She wants to see me. Can we go out there soon?”

  “Of course.” The women’s correctional facility was one of Casey’s least favorite places in the world, but the visits meant a lot to Summer and her mother.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I told her you were engaged. Thought she could use more good news.”

  “No problem. Was she pleased?”

  “Are you kidding? It was the happiest I’d heard her in a long time.” Summer giggled. “She made as much noise as I did, though she wanted to know why you didn’t call her right away. So, I told her about Kendal and that you’ve been having work problems.”

  When Casey told Summer about the engagement, she’d screamed with joy so loudly that she’d had to be reminded about disturbing the tenants. Rhonda probably felt sad about missing the wedding. She’d wanted Lou and Casey to become a couple and was thrilled when they finally got together. That Rhonda was incarcerated over a crime of passion regarding her own thwarted dream of marriage exposed a bitter irony that none of them would want to dwell on.

  “Do you want to have supper with us tonight?” Casey asked. “I’m making roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.”

  “Sure.” Summer noticed Cheyenne whimpering by the door. “I’d better take her for a walk.”

  “I’m going to pop out too, so take your key.”

  Casey returned to her notes. By the time she’d finished typing, tension had stiffened her neck and shoulders. She’d been debating whether to call Amy as well to see if Justin had been released. Twenty-four hours had passed since the police picked up Didi’s cell phone and Casey hadn’t heard a word since.

  Her phone rang. She grabbed it, noting that the call came from Fraserview.

  “I’ve got what you wanted,” Phyllis said and then recited the address.

  After Casey jotted it down, she said, “Do you know if Justin is still inside?”

  “Haven’t seen him, but the police questioned one of the boys this morning. Thought I heard the pool room mentioned.”

  Casey held her breath. “Which boy?”

  “He has some Arab name. I gather they’re moving him out of here soon.”

  “Was the name Jamal?”

  “That’s it, yes.”

  A chill ran through Casey. “Thanks for your help.” She threw her phone onto the sofa.

  Had the little bastard hurt Kendal? Maybe her injuries had nothing to do with drugs and corrupt staff, but with a nasty punk out for revenge. Pacing the room, Casey’s mind swirled with her own desire for revenge. She told herself to calm down and think. Secondhand information didn’t prove anything. Jamal could simply be a witness. She needed to shove the negative stuff back. Her pacing slowed. She was tempted to call her police contacts for more info, but first things first. She grabbed her purse and car keys.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  CASEY LOWERED THE BINOCULARS IN frustration. She’d been watching Mia’s large three-story home for forty-five minutes and there’d been no sign of activity, at least from this vantage point. Casey hadn’t parked on Mia’s street, but at the nearest intersecting road, behind a Camry just back from the stop sign. Looking to her left, she could see the front of the house and part of one side. Although Mia’s was the largest home in this older, middle-class neighborhood, it was also in the worst shape. The house needed power washing and a nicer fence than the high chain-link monstrosity imprisoning the property.

  The taxes and mortgage on a house that size would be hefty. Since she couldn’t find documentation listing Mia as the owner, Casey had tried Cruz’s name as well, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he owned it under a company name. Just how deeply indebted to him was Mia anyway?

  Casey checked the time: nearly 1:00 PM. If teenagers lived there, they probably weren’t early risers, but wouldn’t somebody have left the house by now? Maybe Tanya had been wrong about kids living there.

  Casey poured coffee from her thermos into the little cup and then scanned the streets, looking for another place to park. She couldn’t stay in this spot much longer without attracting the attention of nosy neighbors.

  Sipping the coffee, she checked for phone messages. Nothing. She was hoping Deanne Winters would call with good news about Kendal. Casey had been thinking a lot about Kendal—how dynamic and funny and full of energy she’d been since high school, and how they’d always had each other’s backs. Kendal had been at the funerals for both of Casey’s parents. After Casey’s marriage fell apart, Kendal took her away for a weekend of skiing, drinking, and pampering at Whistler. “Where better to start healing,” Kendal had said, “than at a world-class resort?”

  God, she really should go to the hospital. Cowardice was no excuse. Neither was guilt. And the guilt wouldn’t disappear until she’d asked Kendal’s forgiveness for involving her with Fraserview in the first place.

  Mia’s front gate opened and someone stepped onto the sidewalk. Still holding the coffee cup in one hand, Casey lifted the binoculars. Fam
iliar blond dreadlocks made it easy to identify Roxanne. Excellent. The girl was alone and strolling at a leisurely pace.

  Casey turned the binoculars on the house in search of more signs of life. Still quiet. She was trying to zero in on Roxanne again when a sharp rap on the driver’s window made her jump. Coffee sloshed onto her hand. “Damn it!” Wincing, she dropped the binoculars at about the same time she noticed Mia’s withering stare. Crap!

  “Why are you watching my house?”

  There was no point in denying it. Stalling for time, Casey wiped her hand on her jeans and poured the remaining coffee back into the thermos. She rolled down the window just enough to speak.

  “I heard a rumor that former Fraserview residents are living with you, and wanted to see if it was true.”

  “A rumor from whom?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It sure in hell does. If someone’s slandering my reputation, then I want that person’s name.”

  This could be going better. “What really matters, Mia, is that the rumor appears to be true. I just saw Roxanne leave your house.”

  “What are you talking about? She wasn’t there.”

  Casey lifted the binoculars. “Her hair is quite distinctive.”

  Mia looked about ready to implode. “She is not living with me. She was just visiting, and I resent the invasion of privacy.” The steely glint in her eye was unnerving. “If I was you, I’d tread carefully.”

  “Tread carefully?” Casey’s voice rose. “When one of my closest friends is in a coma because of what happened in the facility you’re responsible for?”

  The glint faded. Mia straightened up and looked around, as if concerned about being watched. She leaned over again until her eyes were level with Casey’s. “I wasn’t anywhere near Kendal when it happened.”

  “Phyllis told me about Jamal.”

  “Phyllis?” Her mouth tightened. “What did she say about him?”

  “That he’s been questioned by police about the incident.”

  Mia rolled her eyes. “She’s so far off base it’s almost laughable.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I already told you that no one could place Jamal near the pool room that night.”

  “Phyllis sees more than you might realize.”

  “Phyllis lies more than you know,” Mia shot back. “She’s a seventy-year-old eccentric who Mac only hired because he felt sorry for her. Her husband died leaving her with debt and all she knew how to do was clean, and she’s not even good at that.”

  “Why would Phyllis make up a story about a kid she doesn’t know?”

  “Because she’s a lonely, bored nut job, which is why I’m going to follow through on what Mac intended to do and sack her and that pathetic cook.” Mia’s stare bore into Casey. “Don’t come back to Fraserview.” She marched toward her house.

  Was Mia trying to make Phyllis a scapegoat? God knows Mia had a lot to hide. On the other hand, Phyllis was a couple of steps beyond eccentric, and she did seem to want to stir things up. Had Mac truly planned to let her go? If Phyllis believed that Mia was planning to fire her, it explained why she wanted to expose Mia’s secrets. So, which woman was the bigger liar, and how far would either of them go to save her job?

  Casey started her car and drove straight ahead, avoiding Mia’s street. The woman was likely still watching her, but Casey needed to talk to Roxanne. She turned left at the next block, then took another left. Soon, she was back on Mia’s street, but farther north.

  Casey didn’t see Roxanne. She must have made it to East Hastings, which meant she’d be harder to find. This busy, commercial part of Hastings was usually too congested with vehicles and pedestrians to easily spot someone, let alone pull over to chat. If Roxanne hopped on a bus before Casey saw her, she could lose what might be her one chance to talk to the girl. Once Mia told Cristano Cruz about their encounter—and she could be doing so right now—he could move Roxanne to another location. Worse, Cruz could come after Casey. Thanks to their little encounter, Mia knew the make of her car. She also had access to her address on the volunteer application.

  Casey made a right turn onto Hastings and stayed in the curb lane. She stopped for a vehicle attempting to parallel park. As the driver made a second attempt, Casey scanned the sidewalks on both sides of the street, but there was no sign of Roxanne. When the driver finally managed to tuck his vehicle in, Casey eased forward. She didn’t have much time. Mia would probably try to round up Roxanne. Tension rippled across her shoulders.

  Casey passed two more blocks before she spotted the familiar dreadlocks. Roxanne was walking into the parking lot of a supermarket. Her heart pounding, Casey turned into the lot and parked between two large SUVs. She stepped out of her car and ambled toward Roxanne, hoping she wouldn’t spook the girl. The last thing she needed was a chase. With any luck, Roxanne’s hatred for Mercedes and Mia was strong enough to make her want to help shut down the drug ring. Casey’s heart pounded, not from trepidation about Roxanne but from fear that Mia or Cruz would show up. If Roxanne had told Mia where she was going they could both be in danger.

  “Roxanne?” she called out and then smiled.

  Roxanne slowed her pace, her expression wary. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you . . . To see if you’re all right.”

  Roxanne studied the ground. “Was I ever?” Her phone rang. She pulled it out of her shabby wool coat.

  “If that’s Mia, please don’t answer,” Casey blurted. “I’ve got to tell you something important about her first, and she won’t want me talking to you.”

  “If I don’t answer, she’ll send Cruz’s goons after me. They can track me with this thing.” Roxanne waved the phone in the air.

  “Then don’t tell Mia you’ve seen me. Our safety depends on it.”

  Roxanne kept her eyes on Casey as she answered the phone. “Hey, Mia. What’s up?” Her pensive expression became worried. “I haven’t seen no juvie volunteer. Wouldn’t want to.”

  Casey held her breath as Roxanne listened to whatever Mia was saying.

  “I’m on my way to the store, like you told me to,” Roxanne said.

  Casey cringed.

  “Okay, sure,” Roxanne said smoothly. “If I see her, I’ll call. Bye.”

  Casey sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

  “No problem.” She shoved the phone in her pocket. “She said you want to cause trouble.”

  “For her and Cruz, yeah. I want those two in jail.”

  Roxanne tilted her head and hugged herself from the cold or fear. Casey didn’t know. “For what?”

  “Aside from recruiting minors to sell drugs and possibly killing Mac, I don’t know. I was hoping you could fill me in.”

  “Are you serious? You think they really killed Mac?”

  “And Winson, yes. It’s highly likely, but I need evidence.”

  Roxanne snorted. “Good luck with that.” She shoved her hands into her coat pockets and looked around the lot. “If Mia finds out I lied about seeing you, I’m in deep shit.”

  “Then we’ll have to make sure she doesn’t.”

  The girl grimaced. “It’s not that easy.”

  “I have friends in the police force who’ll make sure nothing happens to either of us.”

  “Cops, huh?” She glanced around the parking lot again. “Like that’ll help.”

  “They will, especially if I ask them to.” Casey understood the girl’s skeptical frown. “More and more people are learning about Mia and Cruz’s activities. I know that former residents live with her, and that it’s arranged by Cruz.”

  Roxanne looked over her shoulder, studying faces. She seemed nervous, probably afraid that the longer they spoke the more dangerous things could become.

  “Let’s talk in my car,” Casey said. “It’s warmer and we’ll be less noticeable.”

  The girl shrugged and followed her to the car. Once inside, she shifted in her seat, so she was facing Casey. “Mia mus
t have seen you watching her place.”

  “She did, and we had words.” Casey paused. “You live at Mia’s place, right?”

  Roxanne nodded. “From one prison to another.”

  “How did you become involved with Cruz?”

  “He saw me in juvie. Said he could give me a place to crash, and food and money. Of course I knew there was a catch but as long as it wasn’t sex I was cool with it . . . Until I realized that once you’re in you can’t leave.”

  How had Cruz arranged accommodation for a minor he wasn’t related to? Either he and Mia were well connected or Cruz spent big bucks on bribes. “How many kids live there?”

  “Six.”

  “What happens if you try to leave?”

  “You get beaten by Cruz’s goons.” Roxanne answered, looking straight ahead. “Got the bruises to prove it.”

  So, the kids were essentially slaves in exchange for food, shelter, and a little spending money. Cruz wouldn’t want them dead, just scared to death. “Then you’re definitely not going back. There are other options.”

  Roxanne gave a short laugh. “Must be nice living on planet delusional.”

  Casey didn’t have time to debate this. “How large a quantity of drugs does he make you sell?”

  “None. I do the smurfing.”

  Casey had read about this . . . Kids being used to buy allergy and cold medicine or weight loss pills containing pseudoephedrine and ephedrine. They were ingredients used to make crystal meth. “Since the stores only let you buy a small amount, I imagine you have to go to a lot of places.”

  “Yep. Cruz has been teaching me how to cook.”

  Unbelievable. “Sounds risky.”

  “It’s not, really. You just crush the pills and cook them with—”

  “It’s okay.” Casey raised her hand. “I don’t need the recipe.”

  “It’s not hard.”

  “Do you keep ending up in juvie because you’re making the stuff?”

  “No.” Roxanne looked around. “I steal other shit to get caught. Mia thinks I’m a klepto, which is what I want. I figure if they put me in another juvie, I could get away. But I always end up back at Fraserview. I’m sure Cruz arranges it.”