Deadly Accusations

 

 

For my sister, Val, who's been there for every chapter in my life.

CASEY HOLLAND LEANED BACK AGAINST
the wooden chair in her supervisor's office and fought the urge to pop a fat pink bubble while Stan spoke. She knew Stan didn't mind the gum chewing, but blowing bubbles was another matter. Still, the need to release a little hot air was soaring.

When Stan finished talking, she said, “I don't understand why you want two of us on the M10 bus when the kids aren't threatening passengers. Can't Jasmine handle a few twelve-year-olds alone for one shift?”

“She doesn't have your experience.”

True. This was only Jasmine's second undercover assignment. Sure, the woman had apparently worked in security before joining Mainland nearly four months ago, but hadn't Stan told the team that Jasmine was hired for camera surveillance and then a few mobile patrol shifts in the security vehicle? How had she landed undercover work so quickly?

“Listen,” Stan said, scratching his trim gray beard, “things have been heating up between the two groups lately, and some of the drivers think the situation could become violent fast.”

“Is this a race issue, or is there more to the story?”

“All I know is the white kids are feuding with the brown kids, and I don't want a bunch of twelve-year-old twerps brawling on my buses.”

Casey smiled. For a guy who didn't own Mainland Public Transport, Stan Cordaseto sure took it personally when something went wrong on one of Mainland's buses. For ten years, she'd seen him work his butt off for staff and passenger safety. He would have been promoted from security manager to vice-president ages ago, if he hadn't been so anti-technology until recently.

Stan's phone rang. “Don't leave yet,” he said as he picked it up.

Casey stood and ambled toward the open window. A gust of wind ruffled her loose perm. She didn't like the way it tickled her shoulders. Time for a haircut soon. Maybe she'd try a deeper shade of brown this time, too. Lou might find it kind of sexy. From this second-floor view, she easily spotted his truck in the parking lot below. Beyond the lot, a bus pulled out of the yard. She looked up at the overcast sky and felt the humid, late-September air. Forecasters were predicting a thunderstorm. Vancouver had few storms, so when the thunder rolled in, people paid attention. Some were even willing to get off the golf courses.

When Stan hung up, Casey returned to her chair and said, “It's supposed to rain tonight, and it's been a week since the rockhound's last strike. I guess you'll want me on the M6?”

“Definitely.” Stan started tapping a pencil. “The jerk must be getting antsy.”

“Yep.” The elusive rock-throwing nut apparently loved cracking bus windows on rainy nights.

“The kids board the M10 at five past three and you'll be back here by four. Your shift on the M6 doesn't start till eight, so you'll have plenty of break time.” Stan stopped tapping the pencil. “Your face is all scrunched up. What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Except she hated the idea of working with Jasmine Birch. When Jasmine joined Mainland, they'd gotten along fine for a few weeks. Casey had no idea why Jasmine had stopped talking to her.

“Come on,” Stan said, “out with it.”

“It's just that I don't think Jasmine will want to work with me.”

“Why not?”

Casey ran her finger over the pits and rivets scarring his ancient mahogany desk. She'd sat in front of this desk so many times that she could locate every flaw with her eyes closed. “We don't click.”

“I don't get it. You're both young, divorced, and working in security.”

“Marie's divorced too, and she and Jasmine both have kids.”

“So what? You're a parent now as well.”

“I'm a legal guardian who's only been at it since the end of May. Maybe I haven't paid enough dues to join their club.”

And she wasn't going to tell Stan how Jasmine always showered attention on Lou, when she damn well knew he was attached. If Jasmine had asked around, she would have heard all about the “Lou and Casey story,” as coworkers called it.

Stan swept his hand over his brush cut, something he always did when he needed to think. Casey was amazed that he hadn't developed a bald spot over the years.

“Casey, I've got a busload of kids whose feuding is scaring passengers enough to lodge complaints. We can't afford to lose customers, so my team needs to work together, okay?”

“Understood.”

“You're too much of a pro to let personal stuff interfere.”

Casey focused on the dwarf jade bonsai in the corner of Stan's desk. His wife had bought the miniature tree with the bright green leaves six months ago to help Stan manage stress. Casey could use a little help herself.

“Does the bonsai help keep you calm?” she asked.

“When I'm clipping and trimming, yeah.”

After a quick rap on the door, Jasmine stepped inside. She barely glanced at Casey before she turned to Stan. “You wanted to see me?”

He clasped his hands behind his head. “How come you don't like Casey?”

Casey cringed and took a deep breath. She should have seen this one coming. Subtlety wasn't Stan's strong suit. She could almost feel Jasmine's sapphire eyes searing her flesh.

“We're just different people. No biggie.”

Casey chomped on the gum.

“Good, then you'll work with her this afternoon. Marie has some sort of dental emergency with one of her kids.”

Jasmine examined her shiny blue nails. “No problem.”

Casey wanted to tug the liar's long black braid until she told the truth.

“Be on the M10 in fifteen minutes, ladies.”

Jasmine left the room. Casey didn't follow.

“Okay, I sensed the strain,” Stan said, “but you'll do your job, right?”

“The only gripe you'll hear from me is about that tie.” She headed for the door. “Yellow and black polka dots don't go with the red and blue shirt, Stan. I'm just sayin'.”

“As did my wife.” He snorted. “At least I'm not a fashion slave.”

Casey smiled as she left the department and jogged downstairs, catching up with Jasmine.

“So, Little Miss Perfect's been whining about me,” Jasmine remarked.

“Miss Perfect? You're joking, right?” Casey followed her down the steps. “Stan told me to ride with you and I said you'd probably want to work alone. He wanted to know why.”

“Just stay out of my way, super-cop.” Jasmine gave Casey the finger and hurried down the remaining steps.

“Un-friggin'-believable.”

At the bottom of the staircase, Casey tossed her gum in the garbage, crossed the corridor, and exited the glass double doors. On the other side of staff parking, Jasmine was sharing a laugh with Roberto.

If anyone could improve a girl's mood, it was Mainland's coolest mechanic, Roberto de Luca. His well-defined muscles, brilliant smile, and green eyes brightened the day for most of the female staff. Roberto was the only man Casey knew who made denim overalls and the silver strands in his dark hair look hot.

“Hi ya, Casey,” Roberto said as she approached. “How's the Tercel running?”

“Great.” To Casey's amusement, irritation spread across Jasmine's face. “Thanks again for the new spark plugs. What do I owe you this time?”

“One lasagne, extra cheese.”

“You got it.” Their bartering had worked well over the past five years. All Roberto ever asked in payment was a home-cooked meal and the occasional relationship advice.

“So, what are you up to today?” he asked.

“Filling in for Marie on the M10.”

“I'm surprised. Lou's driving that one today.”

“Stan's made an exception, I guess.” Or maybe he hadn't realized. Stan believed that office romances distracted staff from their tasks, so he rarely scheduled her to work with Lou.

Roberto turned to Jasmine. “Want to go dancing tonight?”

“I wish I could, but I've made plans.” She clasped his hand. “Why don't you come for dinner tomorrow? Jeremy would love to see you.”

“Sounds good.”

While Jasmine beamed, Casey sighed. Roberto owned three address books filled with women's numbers. He could do far better than a bitchy woman with a two-year-old. On the other hand, Roberto was shallow enough to only see Jasmine's slim build, waist-length hair, and a heart-shaped face guys seemed to think was cute.

“Hi.” Lou joined the group and kissed Casey's cheek.

She loved the way his eyes filled with warmth when he looked at her. She swept back strands of thick brown hair from his forehead. “You and I are riding together.”

“Really? Cool.”

“Hi, Lou,” Jasmine said. “Our fourth shift together this week. I'm a lucky girl.”

“You sure are.” Casey put her arm around him and grinned at Jasmine's souring expression. The sweetie-pie act wouldn't get her anywhere with Lou.

“See ya, babe.” Jasmine wrapped her arms around Roberto and planted a lingering kiss on him.

Lou chuckled as he and Casey headed for the M10. “I hope Stan's not watching.”

“I hope he is. That was completely unprofessional.”

Jasmine followed them onto the bus and sauntered to the back. Casey chose a seat in the middle. Unzipping her jacket, she checked her pockets to make sure her
ID
and handcuffs were within easy reach. Thankfully, she didn't need the cuffs often. Most kids were pretty scared when she caught them committing some petty crime, but adults with drug, anger, or mental issues were another story. After five years in security, she had to admit that she still loved this job. The only boring part was waiting for the police to show up. Petty offences were a low priority and she'd clocked many hours waiting to transfer offenders into police custody.

Casey opened a window to get rid of the sweat and garbage smells. Since management started cutbacks two months ago, Mainland's fleet wasn't as clean as she would have liked. Fifteen minutes later, five sullen white kids—two of them female—and all wearing a ball cap on backward, slumped into seats near the front of the bus. A group of South Asian preteens, including one girl, all sporting black leather jackets, boarded next and strutted past Casey. The last boy in their group gaped at Casey's chest. She glared at the twit until he got the message and joined his friends in seats behind the center exit.