His call had left her edgy. She thought about phoning Marie to tell her what had happened, but she was furious with her. Marie’s friendship with Paval had made it easy for him track her movements. He must have seen the gun rack in Wesley’s truck when Wes had visited Jasmine. Paval could have asked Jasmine about Wesley’s interest in firearms. When he decided to kill Jasmine, he probably broke into Wesley’s apartment.
Now she understood why Jasmine had kept those two photos in her locker. She’d probably found them while searching the Gallenskis’ place for her missing jewelry. It would have been like Jasmine to confront Paval about the photos, or accuse Ursula of stealing. No wonder she’d planned to move away and hadn’t been that upset when Stan suspended her.
Paval could have seen Jasmine leave to pick Jeremy up from preschool. She might have gone to the church early that day to avoid spending more time at home than necessary. Still, Paval looked after little kids weekdays, so how had he pulled it off? Noel’s van was stolen at 3:00 AM. Had Ursula driven him there, or had he gone himself and left his car within walking distance of Noel’s house? Noel had been to Jasmine’s apartment many times, so maybe he knew what Paval drove. If he did, he could ask his neighbors if they’d seen the vehicle. It was a long shot, but worth a try.
Casey drove past Rhonda’s big old house on the corner and made a right turn into the lane behind the house. She pulled into her parking spot and, turning off the engine, studied the house. As expected, the lights on the main floor and in her third-floor suite were out. The two studio suites on the second floor were also in darkness. The tenants’ cars weren’t parked at their usual spots, but they were rarely home these days. She didn’t blame them for wanting to stay away. The students had come home when the police and paramedics were here yesterday, and she had to tell them about Winifred. Both girls were understandably nervous about being here until the assailant was caught.
Casey looked at the dying cedar hedge separating Rhonda’s property from the sidewalk on Violet. Scanning the yard, she hurried out of her car, up the steps, and into the kitchen, locking the door behind her. She flipped on the light and listened to the silent house.
She peered into the refrigerator’s freezer to make sure the double chocolate fudge was there. Having access to a fridge here on the ground floor and another in her apartment had proven handy when it came to keeping the fattening food out of easy reach.
Casey marched down the dark hallway and upstairs. Normally, the creaking stairs didn’t bother her, but with all that had happened lately, the noise unnerved her. When she entered her apartment, the guinea pigs began their usual chorus of whistling.
“How about a treat guys? You might as well celebrate too.”
Casey flung her coat onto the sofa, and then fed the animals fresh veggies. When she was done, she retrieved Noel’s phone number. Seconds later, she heard his voice and background chatter.
“Have I called at a bad time?” she asked.
“No, we’re just playing poker. Hold on a sec.”
Casey heard the voices fade. She sat in her rocking chair and waited until Noel said, “I was hoping you’d call. Marie told me about Gabrielle’s murder. It’s bloody awful.”
“I know, and I’m pretty sure Paval Gallenski did it.”
“What?” Noel paused. “You’re joking, right?”
“He’s been identified as the guy who took a shot at me the other night.”
“Oh, my god.”
“Corporal Lundy confirmed that Gabrielle’s silver Jetta was in the church parking lot when Jasmine was shot. I think she might have tried to blackmail him.”
Noel let out a whistle.
“Gabrielle met Paval three days earlier when she came to see Jasmine,” Casey added. “She must have recognized him at the church, and there’s something else.” Casey told Noel about the Gallenskis’ bathroom; how the photo of Jeremy had likely been taken there.
“Shit, I can’t believe this. Paval looked after Jeremy for over a year and the little guy always seemed happy around him. If Jasmine had heard even a whisper about abuse she would have moved out right away.”
“Maybe taking a photo was all Paval did. From what I’ve read about aberrant behavior, people don’t just wake up one morning and decide to become sexual predators. The urge develops over a period of time.”
“I can’t wrap my head around this,” Noel said. “I mean, Jasmine really liked him. And why didn’t she tell me about Paval and those photos?”
“She was about to give your ring back, so maybe she thought you’d be too angry to take much interest in her problems. I just wish she’d taken the photos to the police.”
“Yeah well, given that her abuser got away with his crime, I know how useless she thought cops were.”
“That photo would have made her mad enough to threaten Paval with the police and want to move,” Casey said. “Do you know what kind of car he drives?”
“An old Honda Civic. White and a bit rusty, I think.”
“If Paval had acted alone when he stole your van, he would have had to leave his car near your place, but could he have driven a specialized van?”
“It didn’t take Marie long to learn. He could have test driven one.”
“Marie said the van was found at a park near your house?”
“Actually, it was on the other side of Como Lake.”
The lake wasn’t large. Anyone walking from the other side could be at Noel’s place in five minutes. “Would he have parked his car in that area, too?”
“Possibly.”
“We need to find some neighbors who might remember seeing a rusty white Honda Civic on the morning of September twenty-eighth.”
“This whole area had a lot of break-ins last year, so there’s a Neighborhood Watch program on both sides of the lake. I’ll find out who’s in charge.”
“What are the odds of someone remembering the car more than three weeks after her death?”
“Who knows? An unfamiliar car would only have been reported if a crime had been committed. I gather some of the volunteers are pretty zealous about writing down models and license plate numbers of cars they don’t know.”
Casey thought she heard the stairs creak. She held her breath until she remembered that Lou would be joining her. “Did you tell Neighborhood Watch about your van?”
“I was going to, but Jasmine’s death pushed it out of my mind, and then there were the police at my door, meetings with the lawyer, and work deadlines.”
“Even if people knew about the van, they wouldn’t have made the connection with it and the appearance of a white Honda Civic.”
“Someone around here might know something. I’ll call the Coquitlam detachment to see if Neighborhood Watch reported any suspicious vehicles around the twenty-seventh or eighth of September.”
There was a knock on the door. Lou had a key, but he didn’t use it if he knew she was here.
Casey rose. “Call me if you find anything.”
“I will, and take care, okay?”
“You, too.” She shoved her phone in her jeans pocket and headed for the door. “Lou?”
No answer. Fear swept over her. “Lou?”
“It’s Paval Gallenski. I need to talk to you.”
THIRTY-THREE
OH GOD, HOW HAD THE murdering maniac gotten in the house? Casey bolted for her bedroom.
“I want to talk now,” Paval called through the closed door. “You need to hear the truth.”
Casey grabbed her cell phone and called 911. “A man’s trying to break into my apartment! I’m in the top floor suite of a house.” She rattled off her name and address.
“Come on, Casey, open up!” Paval kicked the door. “I’ll use the rifle if you don’t co-operate.”
Casey’s heart tap danced. “The intruder’s Paval Gallenski and he’s got a rifle!” she blurted. “He’s already killed two people.” She locked the bedroom door. “Hurry!”
Leaving the line open, Casey shoved the phone in he
r pocket and dashed to the window. She lifted the wood frame, then flung her leg over the sill. She could hear the dispatcher’s raised voice asking her to respond. Casey stepped onto the fire escape. A shot rang out from behind her and then a loud bang. Shit, it sounded like he was in her apartment.
Stepping onto the first rung, she clambered down the ladder. She’d almost reached the bottom when she heard what sounded like a door banging open. Casey leapt to the ground. She landed on damp grass, skidded, and fell on her side. Pain flared through her right hip as she struggled to her feet and started to run. A noise above made her look up.
Paval was on the fire escape. “Stay there, Casey!”
She heard the shot about the same time she felt a whoosh of air pass her right ear.
“I could have hit you, but I want you to hear my side,” he called out.
Was he stupid, or crazy? All that noise would lead the cops straight to him. Not a bad idea, though. Casey glanced at her Tercel. Crap, she’d left her keys in the apartment; wouldn’t reach it in time anyway. She ran along the back of the house. She was about to turn the corner when pain seared her right upper arm. She slumped against the house while the burning sensation streaked to her wrist. She clamped her hand over the source. Blood warmed her palm.
“That was your last warning,” Paval shouted. “You have to hear the truth!”
Across the back lane, a dog’s deep bark broke the silence.
Casey turned and looked up at Paval on the fire escape. “What truth, Paval?” She took a small step backward.
“Jasmine got it all wrong.”
Casey took another step back. She was at the corner. There was no time to hesitate. She bolted. Paval would have to use the fire escape or go through the house. The willow tree and hedge wouldn’t be enough to hide her. Sweat seeped down her forehead. She thought she heard a voice, then remembered her phone and pulled it from her pocket.
“I’ve been shot!” Her voice trembled. “I’m at the front of the house, trying to hide.”
“Stay calm, ma’am. Help’s on the way.”
Stay calm? Really? She’d never realized how dumb that sounded when she dealt with irate passengers. Casey entered the front yard and looked at the porch. The door was closed. She ran toward the willow, tripped over something and fell, dropping the phone.
“Shit!”
Casey groped cold blades of grass and the tree root she’d tripped over. She tried using her right hand, but deep, blazing pain made her arm quiver. Wincing, Casey got to her feet and raced for the gate. Her hand shook as she lifted the rusty latch and took off.
“Are you too ignorant to hear the truth, too?” Paval shouted from the front porch.
Too? A fourth shot rang out and ricocheted off a vehicle. Casey raced down the sidewalk, her eyes scanning for help, but no one was around. Somewhere nearby, two more dogs started barking. Had Lou arrived? He always pulled up at the back of the house. She prayed he’d heard Paval and was staying clear.
Casey’s breathing grew ragged. She looked at cars and darkened windows. Most of the neighborhood had already gone to bed. Paval fired again. He was close—too close. Veering to her left, she cut across someone’s yard. Beneath her sweater and long-sleeved shirt, blood trickled down her throbbing arm.
“I’m not a pervert!” Paval yelled.
Adrenaline ricocheted through her body.
“They were only two harmless photos!” he shouted. “That’s all.”
Casey’s ears and chest pounded. The dogs kept barking. Why were there no signs of cops? She swung her leg onto a waist-high, wooden fence separating two front yards. Using only her left arm, she hoisted herself over the fence, lost her balance, and collapsed onto a bed of dirt. Groaning, she scrambled upright and looked at the house. Lights were on and curtains drawn. A couple with four kids lived here. Part of her wanted to rush up the steps and pound on the door, but if Paval was close she’d be dead before she reached it.
Keeping low, she scurried down a weedy path toward the back of the house and headed for the lane. Garages and sheds might keep her hidden. The sound of footsteps behind Casey forced her to dive behind a compost bin at the back of the property. She nestled between the bin and a chain-link fence bordering the lane. Near the house, a garbage can fell over and a man swore.
“Jeremy had messed in his pants,” Paval called out. “I had to clean him up. He was having so much fun in the tub that I snapped a picture, and that’s it!”
Let him talk. Let the whole world know where he was. Obviously, Paval didn’t care. The man had lost his mind. Casey pressed down on her wound. Mercifully, the back lane was unlit. No floodlights in the yard either.
She peeked around the compost. Paval was at the corner of the house, to her right. Three feet from her, a gate opened onto the lane. The latch looked easy enough to release, but what if Paval heard her?
“You saw the photos, didn’t you, Casey? Jasmine must have taken them to work. I saw the look on your face when you were in my bathroom last night.”
Casey held her breath. Her shirt clung to her damp back.
“Jasmine freaked out and threatened to tell everyone I abused kids! What was I supposed to do?”
The porch light went on. A door started to open. It was all the distraction she needed. Casey bounded to the gate, lifted the latch, and took off. She scanned fences across the lane. The nearest ones were too tall to jump.
“It was just a stupid photo,” Paval shouted. “Can’t you understand that?”
“Hey!” a man yelled. “Get off my property! I’ve called the cops.”
The asphalt was cracked and dotted with potholes. Head down, Casey stayed to the right until another shot zinged past her. She darted onto a property without a fence and headed back the way she had come. When she reached the side of the house, floodlights blinked on.
“I told you to stop!” Paval shouted from the lane. “This is your last chance. I mean it!”
Casey bolted through the front yard when two police cruisers sped toward her place. Terrified that Paval was too close, she didn’t call out.
Paval yelled, “I hate people who won’t co-operate!”
He fired another shot. Casey could almost feel the bullet fly past her head. She dove behind a large rhododendron, scrambled to her feet, and dashed behind a parked SUV. Home was five houses back. Street lamps illuminated the police cruiser parked in front of it.
A bullet struck the SUV’s window. Casey’s stomach somersaulted. The cops must have heard the shot. Casey darted to the next parked vehicle closer to home. Her entire arm and shoulder were burning now; blood dripped off her fingertips. She had to make Paval keep talking; the cops needed to know where they both were.
“Paval, did you or Ursula shoot Jasmine?”
“Ursula had nothing to do with this! Don’t you ever spread stories about my wife!”
Casey stole a look through the driver’s side window. Paval was on the sidewalk, rifle raised, as he walked toward the vehicle. Why wasn’t he running away? Surely he’d seen the cruiser.
“I photographed my favorite tenants all the time.” He sounded close to tears. “It didn’t mean anything.”
“But Jasmine didn’t like the pictures you took?” She kept her voice loud.
“She never let me take her picture, and I needed one for my collection. She was so damn stubborn. The other tenants didn’t care.”
“You collect pictures of your tenants?”
“I told you before, the good ones are like family.”
What a freak. Casey spotted movement behind a hedge bordering the sidewalk. “So, you slipped into Jasmine’s bedroom and snapped a picture without her knowing?”
“She was always complaining about insomnia, so I gave her something to help her sleep.”
Casey heard desperation in his voice. “How did she find the photos, Paval?”
“By snooping through our bedroom. Jasmine had no right to call me a pedophile and Ursula a thief! She said she’d destroy both
of us!”
Casey raced for the next vehicle and knelt by a tire. She gulped more air while her stomach swirled. Why weren’t the police taking him down? And where was Lou?
“What about Gabrielle?” she yelled. “Why kill her?” No response. “Was she blackmailing you?”
“She was a greedy evil bitch who wanted everything I’d saved for our baby!”
Casey scampered to a Jeep Cherokee. Behind her, a police cruiser roared closer.
“Freeze!” a cop shouted on the other side of the Cherokee.
Another shot rang out. Casey felt a hand on her shoulder and screamed.
THIRTY-FOUR
STAN’S OLD CHAIR SQUEAKED AS he leaned back and grinned at Casey. “So, you nabbed your rockhound and Jasmine’s killer on the same night. Impressive, kiddo.”
“I didn’t actually nab Paval. He came after me.”
Casey adjusted the sling supporting her injured arm. Noel sat on her left, nearest Stan’s door. Marie was on her right, uncomfortably close to the sling.
“How bad is the damage?” Noel asked, gazing at her arm.
“The bullet took a chunk of flesh, but it’s not so bad, thanks to some heavy-duty painkillers.”
“Thank god that’s all he hit,” Noel said.
Casey appreciated his concern, but didn’t want to say so in front of Marie. “Paval said he could have killed me if he wanted. I guess I should be grateful he was hell-bent on telling me how misunderstood he was.”
“Noel’s lawyer found out that he used to belong to a gun club,” Marie remarked.
“Shit, Casey, you could have been hit in the crossfire between him and the cops,” Stan said.
“There wasn’t really any crossfire. A cop shot Paval once in the shoulder, and game over.”
Except it wasn’t a game. Casey remembered the shot, and Paval falling as a cop approached her from behind. She’d screamed from pain when he’d touched her wounded arm. Casey squirmed in the hard wooden chair. The hip she’d fallen on was sore, and she wished this meeting was over. She hadn’t planned to tell Marie what happened, but Marie had barged in to say that Noel insisted on thanking her in person. She’d then had the gall to chastise Casey for not answering her phone all weekend. Casey had neither the energy nor desire to explain that she’d been too tired to talk to anyone but Lou and Summer. She’d also managed a brief chat with Hannah O’Reilly while Lou had taken Summer to see Winifred in the hospital.
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