Ahead of them, someone yelled, “Whoa! He smashed the window!”
Casey spotted a man running toward her. The blondes were too busy laughing and staggering down the sidewalk to notice the approaching man.
Casey jumped in front of the pair, ID in hand. “Ladies, step out of the way, please. You’re in danger.”
The runner spotted her and slowed down. He wasn’t the bearded man. This one was short, sported a ball cap, and carried a white plastic bag.
She flashed her ID card at him. “MPT security! Stop right there!”
The blondes scurried away; the suspect stopped moving.
Casey edged closer to him. “Put the bag down.”
Behind the suspect, a uniformed officer jogged toward them. Farther down, Undercover Man talked to witnesses. Casey edged closer to the suspect until she was only two strides away from the suspect. She’d put in too many hours to let New Westminster police bust her rockhound.
“Get away!” He began pinwheeling his arm, swinging the bag in a circle.
Judging from the way the bag moved, there had to be at least one more rock inside. Curious that he’d brought a spare. Had he planned two strikes to make up for lost time? While the bag was high above his head, Casey rushed the guy and tackled him to ground. The man’s cap fell off, exposing a bald head fringed with scraggly gray hair. Casey was about to handcuff him when the uniformed cop caught up to her.
“I’ll take over from here, Miss.”
She grabbed the bag from the suspect.
“Give me my bag!”
Peering inside, Casey saw a large rock. The suspect lifted his head. Lines creased his brow and bracketed his mouth. The guy had to be at least forty-five, but he was fit enough to run up and down hills.
“I ain’t done nothin’!”
“You broke a window on one of our buses.” Casey noticed Wesley marching toward her. “Police are interviewing witnesses now.”
“Prove it!” he shouted.
“Let’s see some ID, sir,” the officer said.
“It’s at home.”
“What’s your name?”
“Avery.”
“Last or first?”
“I’m Avery Watts.”
Wesley caught up to her. “You okay?”
“Yeah, he ran right toward me. Go figure, huh?”
He mumbled something about a lucky break. “We found a good-sized rock on the sidewalk.”
Casey knelt down near Watts. “Yours, by any chance, sir?”
“No, I just found that bag a couple minutes ago.”
The officer helped him to his feet.
“It’s amazing how technology can lift fingerprints off practically anything these days,” Casey said. “Seeing as how you aren’t wearing gloves, I wonder what the technicians will find?”
She had no idea if prints really could be lifted off a rock, but he didn’t need to know that. The officer started to read the rockhound his rights, but Watts cut him off. “Your lousy buses got what they deserved! I’m a good driver, I shoulda got a chance!”
The cop warned him about saying anything, but Watts didn’t even look at him.
“Are you talking about working for MPT?” Casey asked.
“Damn straight. I sent in an application, but they didn’t even call. It’s not fair!”
“Mr. Watts,” the officer tried again. “I caution you not to say—”
“I deserve a shot at driving.” An approaching police siren caught Watts’ attention. He turned to the officer. “Let’s make a deal. I got information ’cause I saw the guy who shot the bus the other night.”
Wesley and Casey exchanged wary glances.
“He shot the stupid door and took off,” Watts went on. “He shouldn’t have been on my turf.”
“Did you see his face?” Casey asked. “Could you identify him in a police line?”
“That depends on what I get out of it.”
When Undercover Man joined them, the uniformed cop filled him in on what was happening.
“I doubt this loser could pick anyone out of a line,” Wesley said. “The shooter wore a wide-brimmed hat.”
“True.” Casey’s hopes sank.
“I saw him! The moron nearly knocked me over when he ran into the station. I was standing at the entrance.”
“Did you see the weapon?” Undercover Man asked.
“It was a handgun.”
The uniformed officer opened a notepad. “What did he look like?”
“About my age. Average height and weight.”
Casey stared at Watts. “A middle-aged man?”
Two police cruisers pulled up.
“Yeah, with dark watery eyes, and he had a big nose.”
Casey’s mouth grew dry and the adrenaline soared. “Oh.”
“I ain’t saying more till I see a lawyer.”
Undercover Man didn’t look pleased. “Get him out of here.”
The officer escorted Watts into a cruiser.
“I know someone who fits that description,” Wesley murmured to Casey. “He was at the funeral, and I’ve seen him a couple of times when I was at Jasmine’s place.”
“Me, too.”
“The apartment manager, right?”
“Yeah.” She shivered in the cool night air. “Paval Gallenski.”
THIRTY-TWO
DAMN IT, ANOTHER BLOODY COP had dismissed her. Casey had lost track of the times she’d busted someone, called police to process the suspect, then once they arrived, had been brushed off in countless irritating ways. Tonight, Undercover Man had said, “We’ll take over from here, Miss. Go back to your bus, and stay away from Mr. Gallenski.” She was almost sorry she’d told the New Westminster police about Paval. Corporal Lundy was the one who needed to know. Although Undercover Man assured her he’d contact Lundy, Casey had left her own message for the corporal.
Traffic was sparse now at ten-thirty, so Casey sped through the intersection, anxious to get home and then go see Summer. After a brief chat with Stan a half hour ago, she’d called Summer to tell her she’d caught the rockhound. She’d left out any reference to Paval.
“That’s awesome. You won’t have to work nights for a while,” Summer had said. “Can we celebrate with some double chocolate fudge ice cream? There’s still a full carton in the fridge, and you could pick it up before you came over, right?”
Since it was Friday night and Casey felt like celebrating herself, she’d agreed. When she called Lou to give him a more detailed account of events, his response was less positive.
“For god’s sake, Casey, you were in Paval’s apartment yesterday. You could have been killed.”
“Only if I’d accused him of murder, and I’m not that stupid.”
“This freak passes himself off as a gentle guy who loves kids and pets, when he actually killed two women, beat up a senior, and threatened kids’ lives. God knows what he’s done to the babies he looks after.”
After Lou’s tirade, he told her that his sister had brought his truck back from Parksville and that he insisted on picking her up. “Pack a bag,” he’d added. “We’re not staying there until the bastard’s caught. I’ll be there in twenty
