grandmother. “Summer likes to listen to music when she’s finished homework.”
The M6 cruised under the Pattullo Bridge. Casey glanced at the Fraser River.
“Who’s supervising her?”
“Lou.”
They travelled under the Fraser River Rail Bridge and adjacent SkyTrain tracks. Casey sat forward. They were in the hot zone. “Winifred, I have to go—”
“A twelve-year-old shouldn’t stay up this late.”
The bus rolled past Blackwood Street on Casey’s right. Fourth Street was half a block ahead. Casey spotted three guys strolling across the Fourth and Columbia intersection. As the M6 cruised past them, she took note of their jeans and dark jackets. Two of them had their hands in their pockets and none were wearing hats. She couldn’t see their faces clearly.
“Are you listening to me?” Winifred demanded.
One of the orange-haired girls pulled the cord.
“Sorry, I can’t talk right now.”
Wesley eased to the stop.
“I still think it’s best if Summer moved in with me.”
Damn it, she’d brought this up at least twice a month since Rhonda’s incarceration. When would the woman let it go? “She wants to stay with—”
A loud thunk and cracking glass brought Casey to her feet. The girls yelped while the woman in scrubs sat upright and looked around. Casey spotted someone turn the corner at Fourth and disappear. She shoved the phone in her pocket and, glancing at the window, charged toward the exit. “Anyone see who did it?”
The coughing guy shook his head and sneezed.
“He took off up Fourth,” another man answered. “I didn’t see his face.”
Outside, two of the three guys who’d been strolling down the sidewalk stopped in front of the damaged window. The third guy was gone.
“MPT security.” She flashed her ID. “Can you two wait here? I’ll be right back.”
Casey sprinted to the corner, turned left onto Fourth, and scanned the road’s steep upgrade. Part way up the hill, a man darted across the street and into a lane. Casey sprinted after him, but it wasn’t long before her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest. Drizzling rain sprinkled her face and she blinked droplets from her eyes.
When she reached the narrow alley, she stopped to catch her breath and study the dumpsters and parked vehicles. There was no movement anywhere. Bending over, she propped her hands on her thighs and took deep breaths. It had been a long time since she’d chased a suspect uphill. Obviously, yoga routines and the occasional spin on her stationary bike weren’t enough. She straightened up and scanned the alley. Nothing. She trudged back down the hill.
The M6 was waiting, not that Wesley had a choice. Drivers weren’t supposed to leave during pursuits until they heard from the security staff.
He stood on the sidewalk, tossing a good-sized rock up and down. “About bloody time.”
“Where are the guys I told to wait?”
“They said they didn’t see a thing, so I let them go.”
“The suspect was walking right beside them.”
Wesley shrugged and headed into the bus. “Passengers didn’t see nothing either.”
“Don’t we need to talk to the police?”
“I already called and told them what I just told you.” He sat down. “Girls shouldn’t be handling this stuff. Where are the guys?”
“Doing other things.” Casey crossed her arms. “I know my job, Wes, so leave the questions to me next time.”
“Hey, I got to stick to the schedule.”
Casey shoved her hands in her pockets, felt her phone, and realized she’d forgotten about Winifred. She picked it up. The line was dead, so she called Summer. Wesley lurched the bus forward, forcing Casey into the seat behind him.
Summer answered on the second ring. Casey could almost feel the rap music vibrating through the phone as Summer said, “Grandma doesn’t want me to have any fun. She treats me like a baby and it’s not fair!”
Casey rubbed her temple. She wanted to say that whining about it made her sound like a baby, but the thought of another argument today held no appeal. “It’s nearly ten-thirty. You should be getting ready for bed.”
“Why can’t I stay up? My friends do.”
“I don’t care.” Casey’s voice rose. “I want you to—”
“Oh fine!”
She hung up before Casey could ask to speak to Lou.
“I heard about your cat fight,” Wesley said.
She stood to see him better. “Excuse me?”
“You and Jasmine.” He kept his gaze on the road. “You need to control your temper there, girl.”
Jasmine must have told him her version of events. “She was the one who slapped a child, Wes, or didn’t she tell you that bit?” Casey waited for a reply, but none came. “There were witnesses and a complaint about her, which was why Stan suspended her for a week.”
“Well, don’t go blabbing it around. It ain’t professional.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or yell, but she’d had enough of people telling her what she’d done wrong today. “Do you think it was professional for her to call me names, throw herself at Roberto, and slap a child?”
His red bushy brows fused together. “What do you mean, throw herself at him?”
How convenient for Wesley to ignore the rest. When she told him about the kiss this morning, Wesley said, “It’s no big deal. Jasmine isn’t hooked up with anybody, so she can do what she wants.”
Casey watched him. “I didn’t know you were a fan of hers.”
“She’s a friend.”
Really? So, what did those two have in common? Jasmine liked dancing. Wesley was training for the pro wrestling biz. They had rudeness in common, and Casey understood Wesley’s attraction to Jasmine. What did she like about him?
“Why are you looking like someone just dangled a worm in your face?” Wesley asked.
She didn’t know she was.
The exit bell rang. Casey turned and saw both guys at the back preparing to leave.
“There’s nothing wrong with Jasmine hanging with more than one guy,” Wesley added. “The only sleazy thing is the married jerks who hit on her.”
“Are you talking about guys from work?”
Wesley grunted and shook his head. “Ask your gossipy friends.”
Maybe she would. Casey walked up to the damaged window. Stan would be ticked. She studied the crack. If she hadn’t been talking to Winifred, she might have seen the freak in action. She sat down to call home again. Lou answered right away.
“Is Summer getting ready for bed?” she asked.
“Slowly. She’s being a pain.”
“Sorry, Lou.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Casey did worry. They couldn’t go out as much as they used to, or take off for romantic weekends.
“How’d it go tonight?” he asked.
“Awful. I was trying to get off the phone with Winifred when the rockhound struck. I couldn’t catch him,” she mumbled, glancing up and down the bus. “Wesley thinks I have a temper problem because of the Jasmine thing.”
“Yeah well, she’s the only woman in the world he likes. They’ve gone out a few times.”
“He told you?”
“Jasmine did.”
