“Totally. You gotta do what you think is right, no matter what.”
God, she sounded like Rhonda, when Rhonda had been at her best. “So, oh Wise One, what if you’ve lost sight of what’s right and what’s wrong?”
“You gotta go with your instinct, right? Isn’t that what you always say?”
“I’m not sure my instinct’s been working all that well lately. Anyhow, I should get some sleep before your mom calls.”
“Uh, Casey? If she doesn’t call, we can phone again, right?”
“We’ll reach her no matter what.”
“’Kay.” Summer cleared her throat. “When I was talking about how you have to help your friends, I was also thinking about Mom.”
“If she needs me, I’ll be there for her.”
“Me too.”
But would Rhonda want their help? Would she want to deal with them at all?
TWENTY-TWO
IN MAINLAND’S LUNCHROOM, CASEY STIRRED her third coffee of the morning, and it was only eight-thirty. She wished she hadn’t spent most of the night stewing over Rhonda’s phone call. Even now, too much of it replayed in her mind, like Summer’s tearful rant about Winifred. “All she wants me to do is chores and homework, and I don’t want Grandma living here!” She’d finally plunked the phone in Casey’s hand. By the time Casey had finished telling Rhonda about Summer’s deteriorating behavior, Winifred blurting the truth about Summer’s birth, and her investigation into Jasmine’s murder, Rhonda was the one in tears.
“I’m going through enough shit, Casey, and now you’re telling me my baby’s in danger? What am I supposed to do about it from here?”
Casey hadn’t known what to say. Her assurance that Summer was safe with Barb had seemed so lame that she’d felt ashamed and incompetent. Summer had asked to speak to Rhonda again. This time, the topic was school. Seconds later, Summer was shouting, “My friends are not losers!” Before Casey knew it, Summer was running out of her apartment and Rhonda was fuming. After she’d calmed Rhonda down, Rhonda promised to call back soon and deal with Winifred then.
“What’s the matter, kiddo?” Stan asked as he approached. “Is that bump on the noggin still hurting?”
Casey looked up. She didn’t want to talk about Rhonda. “No, I got a call from Jasmine’s mother last night.”
By the time she finished telling him about Hannah’s request, they’d left the lunchroom and were standing in front of the exit to the parking lot. Through the plate glass window next to the doors, Stan watched Mainland’s latest pre-owned acquisition pull out: a two hundred and seventy-five horsepower beast that could hold seventy- two passengers and two wheelchairs. The bus had been recently washed, making the silver and black stripes along the green side shine.
Casey looked for Lou’s old black pickup, but it wasn’t here. The M10 was due to pull out in fifteen minutes.
“Do you think I should go to Parksville?”
“I can only tell you which bus to work on and when,” he answered. “Since Marie’s kids are away, I’ll put her on the rock-throwing case until it’s safe for you on the M6 again.”
“Did you say you’re giving Casey time off to go to Parksville?”
The sound of David Eisler’s voice made them turn around.
“What of it?” Stan asked.
Eisler glanced at staff wandering past them. “Step outside, both of you.”
Stan rolled his eyes while Casey led the way, irritated that Eisler had been eavesdropping when she’d purposely kept her voice low. Outside, he didn’t stop walking until they were too far from the doors to be overheard.
The VP zeroed in on Casey. “Why are you going to Parksville when we’re short-staffed?”
“Why should you care?” Stan shot back.
“Jasmine’s mother lives there,” Eisler said, turning to her. “I thought I told you not to pry into a murder investigation.”
Her jaw clenched under his withering stare. “She invited me, and there’s nothing to investigate in Parksville.”
“There must be a link or she wouldn’t have asked you.” Eisler stood straighter, as if to appear taller, yet he still barely reached Stan’s shoulder. “Since you didn’t respect my request to stay out of the investigation, you’re fired for insubordination and sabotaging what was a pleasant working environment.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Stan asked.
“She was involved in an altercation with staff about murder suspects.”
“That was Marie, not me.”
“It was both of you! I heard every word.”
Part of Casey wanted to scream at the moron, but why give him more reasons to fire her?
“I decide which of my staff are fired, not you,” Stan said.
“You’re not running this show, Stanley.”
Even under the beard, Casey could see Stan’s face redden. He hated it when people used his formal name.
“It looks like you won’t be running things much longer either,” Stan replied. “I know about your job interview the morning Jasmine died.”
Casey saw Eisler’s hands curl into fists.
“Not what I’d call productive time for Mainland Public Transport,” he added. “So maybe you should fire your own ass, you fascist little twerp.”
Eisler’s lips grew white “Maybe I should fire your ass, too.”
Casey spotted employees staring at them.
“Well, Davey, old buddy, that works both ways,” Stan crossed his arms and smiled. “What do you think Gwyn will say when I tell him you’ve been job searching on company time?”
Before Eisler could respond, Casey said, “Do the police know that you went to Jasmine’s apartment looking for her?” The shock on Eisler’s and Stan’s faces was worth the risk. “Some of the staff know you’d been calling her at home, David. Jasmine told people and I imagine phone records will corroborate that.”
“It seems we’ll have lots of news for Gwyn when he gets back from holiday,” Stan remarked.
Eisler’s perma tan darkened. “You never did have much class, did you, Stanley? But then, you belong in this dump, so why should I expect otherwise?”
“Casey stays,” Stan said, “and stop bloody eavesdropping!”
“That wasn’t my intention,” he shot back. “I came to tell you that the company’s lawyers just learned that the bullet fired at Casey came from the same gun that shot holes at Mrs. Crenshaw’s house. A Glock twenty-seven, which I’m told is owned by Wesley Axelson.”
“Lawyers, huh?” Stan remarked.
“Someone has to protect the company’s interests; obviously, you’re not up to it and never will be.”
“Look who’s talking.”
Eisler ignored him as he focused on Casey. “See what happens when you meddle?” Anger seethed through his words. “Keep it up and you’ll get yourself killed.” He marched toward the door.
“Good luck with the job hunt!” Stan shouted.
Casey noticed the surprised looks on employees’ faces. Word would be out about it by lunchtime, which was probably what Stan intended.
“Miserable toad,” Stan muttered. “When are you leaving for Parksville?”
The question caught her off guard. “I haven’t said I’m going.”
“I’ve known you a long time, kiddo, and you’d never turn your back on a plea for help.”
It wasn’t that easy. There were critters to feed, an essay to finish, a class tomorrow. On the other hand, Lou
