Fear pricked Casey’s arms with the force of dozens of tiny needles. “Maybe we should wait.”
Roberto pushed the door open. “Holy shit!”
Casey nudged him to the side, looked in, and gasped. Gabrielle was sprawled on the double bed. Her blood-soaked T-shirt clung to her ribs. Dull eyes stared up at the ceiling, her mouth set in a grimace. Sweat broke out on Casey’s back and torso. She tried to speak, but her gum slid to the back of her throat, causing her to choke.
Casey yanked the door shut while Roberto pressed digits on his phone. Her stomach convulsed. Dashing to the bathroom, she collapsed in front of the badly stained toilet bowl and heaved. By the time she’d lost everything, her eyes were watery and she was shaking so hard she couldn’t stand. Lowering her head, she rested her arms on the bowl’s cool porcelain. Bile burned her throat. Tears seeped out from her closed eyes.
“Feeling better?”
Casey flinched and looked up. Corporal Lundy was staring down at her. She wiped her eyes and reached for the toilet paper roll.
“Did you touch anything?” he asked.
“Doorknobs, toilet seat.” She tore off two squares of toilet paper, wiped her mouth, and flushed the toilet. As she got to her feet she said, “I only saw Gabrielle. Was Jasmine’s little boy in there too?”
“No one else is here.” She noticed that he’d already put on latex gloves. “Let’s go before you contaminate more of the crime scene. And don’t touch anything.”
Casey shuffled down the hall on unsteady legs and saw Roberto leave the trailer with another officer. She followed Lundy to an unmarked vehicle.
“Okay, Miss Holland, tell me what happened from the moment you reached the trailer.”
After Casey described everything she did and saw, Lundy said, “When was the last time you talked to Miss O’Reilly?”
“In Parksville.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Her mother. She didn’t want me talking to Hannah again.”
“What else?”
After Casey gave him the highlights, Lundy said, “Quite the confrontation.”
A cruiser pulled up and blocked the entrance.
“Well, no one threw punches.”
He flipped through his notes. “The last conversation you had with your ward’s grandmother before her attack was also confrontational, was it not?”
“Yes.” He knew it was. They went over this last night.
“And you argued with Jasmine Birch before she died?”
“Your point, Corporal?”
“I’m just wondering why people die, or nearly do, after they argue with you.”
“I have alibis, you know.”
Lundy closed his notepad and tried not to smirk. “If I value my life, I’d better not argue the point.”
Casey rolled her eyes. Cops, death, and dark humor. She’d heard them deal with the bad stuff through sarcasm and lousy jokes before, but she never thought she’d be the joke.
“Corporal?” A third officer, who looked about seventeen years old, appeared behind Lundy and handed him a sheet of paper. “I found something.”
Lundy turned his back to Casey, blocking her view.
“Look for a computer or typewriter,” Lundy told his colleague.
Casey moved closer. As if aware of her action, he lowered his voice so she could only hear him say something about picking up Birch. The young cop headed toward the cruiser parked near the entrance, while Lundy turned his attention back to Casey.
“So tell me, what do you really think Miss O’Reilly wanted to see you about?”
“Maybe to tell me she saw who shot Jasmine. I’m betting hers was the silver car in the church parking lot that day.”
Lundy nodded. “We knew the first three letters on the license plate. They match the plate number you gave us.”
She should have known he’d keep that information from her. “I think one of the Gallenskis killed Jasmine, and that Gabrielle recognized the shooter. Given what her mother told me about Gabrielle’s greed, it’s possible she was blackmailing one or both of them, although I have to say that after my talk with the Gallenskis yesterday, I would have thought that Ursula was the one doing the blackmailing, but it must be the other way around.”
“Why can’t I go in!” a familiar voice shouted.
Casey turned and saw Marie trying to slip past the police by the entrance. She hoped they’d make her leave.
“You invited another friend?” Lundy asked.
“No, Marie Crenshaw’s butting in again.”
She followed Lundy as he strolled up to Marie. “What brings you here, Mrs. Crenshaw?”
Marie squinted at Birch’s trailer. “What happened? Is Jeremy okay?”
“He’s not there. What did you want to help Miss Holland with?”
“Confronting Gabrielle.”
Casey shook her head. How had she found out about the meeting?
“Why would you need to confront her?” Lundy asked.
“Because Gabrielle’s a horrible bitch, and Roberto told me she’s hooked up with Birch who’s the real killer, not my brother.”
Casey spotted Roberto talking to two officers. His hands were in his pockets and his head lowered.
“What makes you think Mr. Birch is guilty?” Lundy asked Marie.
“I just know, and I believe you’re about to arrest my brother, which would be a huge mistake.”
“Go home, Mrs. Crenshaw.”
“Why won’t you tell me what happened?” Her voice rose. “Obviously, Casey knows or she wouldn’t look so green.”
Funny, her face felt flaming hot.
“Casey, what’s going on, damn it?” Marie asked. “I have a right to know.”
“Better not argue with Miss Holland,” Lundy remarked. “I have all the homicides I can handle.”
Casey glared at him so he’d know he wasn’t funny.
THIRTY-ONE
CASEY SCARCELY NOTICED HOW COLD it was on the empty M6 bus. The Kevlar vest was keeping her warm enough; so was the adrenaline rush as she anticipated the rockhound’s appearance. He was overdue for another strike and conditions were perfect tonight. She wanted more than a rock-throwing nut, though. She wanted Jasmine’s killer. Violence had escalated since her return from Parksville, and enough was enough. As Wesley drove toward New Westminster, Casey fidgeted in her seat, eager to reach the rockhound’s turf minutes from here. She sat in front for a better view of the sidewalk and intersections.
Before she left the trailer park this afternoon, Corporal Lundy inadvertently confirmed that they’d found a suicide note next to Gabrielle. Judging from Lundy’s abrupt manner and monosyllabic replies to her questions, the corporal had decided he’d already said too much. Unfortunately, Roberto and Marie had overheard them.
“That’s it then,” Marie had said to everyone with earshot. “Gabrielle and Birch stole the guns from Wesley’s place, and one of them shot Jasmine so Birch could have Jeremy. Birch then killed Gabrielle and forged the note to save his lying ass.”
Lundy’s chilly response hadn’t surprised Casey. “That note is confidential, Mrs. Crenshaw, and accusing someone without knowing all the facts is begging for trouble.” He then asked Marie if she knew where her brother was at that moment. Marie had assured him he was home, at which point she took off.
Lundy wouldn’t reveal the type of gun found in Gabrielle’s hand, but Casey had a hunch it was Wesley’s Glock twenty-seven. She hadn’t told Wes about the shooting. Didn’t have the stomach for it. Besides, Rude Wesley Axelson looked grumpier than usual. Thanks to Marie and Roberto’s love of gossip, he might have heard the news anyway.
Wesley pulled up to the stop where the plainclothes officer was waiting. Casey recognized the guy from last night’s shift, but couldn’t recall his name. Undercover Man wasn’t a big talker and he usually mumbled. The cop climbed on board, nodded to Wesley, and then took his usual seat behind the center door. As he ambled past Casey, he barely gave her a glance. He’d hardly looked at her since they met. Maybe the guy didn’t think much of female security officers, or just her. His behavior made her even more determined to catch the rockhound, but it wouldn’t be easy.