Danger On the Midway (Arkansas Special Agents #4)

Chapter One

Cassidy Walker was having a good morning. A surprisingly good morning.

The alarm went off with enough time to grab a coffee and a sausage biscuit on her way in to work. She hadn’t spilled any of her breakfast on her top. Her hair was cooperating. And so was the weather. For the past few years, the Arkansas State Fair had been mostly rained out.

Not this year.

Tipping her head back, she checked the bright blue October sky. Nope. Not a single cloud. The forecast for the next ten days showed clear skies and pleasantly cool temperatures.

So, yes. Things had been going exceptionally well for the day before the opening of the fair. The weeks leading up to this day had been a scramble. Media Day was usually a complete circus, too, but here they were. Everything that could be done was done.

Their PR team had sent passes to news outlets all around the state.

The food vendors had spent hours prepping for the VIP tasting scheduled for early afternoon.

Arcade barkers had decorated their booths with tempting plush animals.

The ride operators, having completed final run-throughs, had provided good b-roll for the news cameras.

So far, so good. Cassidy couldn’t help but feel optimistic as she hung back, allowing the group of elementary school children who’d earned a morning at the fair with perfect attendance to scurry to get close to the man leading the way to the fair’s carnival midway—Governor James Henry Beauford.

The kids were props for a photo opportunity with the governor. And for once, the big man was running on schedule. Maybe even a little early. Shocking for a politician known for stopping and chatting with anybody who dared to make direct eye contact.

He smiled and chatted with the children as they lined up to pose in front of the gilt-painted carousel. He flashed his spotlight of a smile at each child, knowing the cameras captured every moment. The snowy-haired gentleman charmed both the schoolchildren and the media.

“Born to glad-hand.”

The man beside her chuckled. Special Agent Ryan Hastings from the Arkansas State Police led the governor’s personal protection detail.

They’d met the previous day at a security briefing, and Cassidy had liked the man right away.

He didn’t have any of the overinflated self-importance she’d come to expect from many of the men in his position.

“This is all for nothing,” he said. “They’re not even old enough to vote.”

“Can we get some shots of the governor and the kids on the carousel?” the media director shouted over the high-pitched music.

Hastings groaned as the children cheered and Beauford gave his own hearty cheer of approval.

Cassidy shot a pitying glance at the harried teacher who’d been charged with shepherding the group of overstimulated first graders through the morning’s schedule. “You get your guy, I’ll help herd the little ones,” she said to the special agent. “The sooner we do this, the quicker it’s over.”

They managed to get everyone on the merry-go-round with surprisingly little fuss. One boy, a skinny little slip of a kid with huge eyes and an even bigger backpack strapped to his back, opted to sit on one of the ride’s stationary benches. The hairs on her arms rose.

She eyed the bag with a puzzled frown. It was well over the limit they imposed on bags at the entry points. Reaching for the two-way radio clipped to her belt, she said, “Stanford, you read me?”

The man who oversaw the security checkpoint at the south gate answered right away. “Copy.”

“Y’all are checking bags, aren’t you?”

“Ten-four.”

“I’m seeing some that shouldn’t have gotten by.”

There was a pause. “Yes, ma’am. Of course, there’s a lot of camera and audio equipment coming in today.” Static crackled. “I’ll make sure we tighten it up.”

“Ten-four.”

Cassidy winced as the operator also cranked up the canned calliope music.

The same syrupy-sweet tunes would play in her sleep for weeks after the fair ended.

Grimacing, she grasped the pole closest to her.

Why couldn’t her brain latch on to the thrash metal they blasted at some of the scarier rides?

As the carousel picked up speed, she clung to a nearby horse.

The scent of oil and sugar carried on the breeze.

Her stomach flipped even as her mouth watered.

Cassidy sighed. She was prepared for the next ten days.

The hunger for junk food edging out nervous nausea.

The scents of hay and animals from the barns.

The temptations of the concessions offering everything from fresh-squeezed lemonade to deep-fried butter.

She was unashamedly partial to those huge smoked-turkey legs.

A glance over her shoulder told her the governor was in his element.

Standing beside a blonde girl riding a white horse with a glittering gold mane and tail, she watched a boy stand up in the stirrups of his trusty gray steed and give a whoop of excitement.

A grandfather of eight, Beauford threw his head back and laughed heartily.

The footage would play beautifully on the evening news.

Smiling, she turned her attention to the midway as they whirled past. Media Day was a busy one, but nowhere near as chaotic as Opening Day. She should enjoy this relative calm before the storm.

But she couldn’t wait for it all to get started.

The weeks leading up to the fair were a grind of endless meetings and walk-throughs.

Once the gates opened to the public, the action kicked into high gear.

Parking-lot fender benders. The constant competition and sometimes outright sabotage between vendors.

Fights breaking out in the lines for the carnival rides.

Tearful reunions between frightened parents and their wandering kids.

The neon lights. The obnoxious cajoling and taunts of the barkers running the games.

These ten days encapsulated the kind of mostly harmless bedlam she thrived on.

Instinctively, she checked the sky again. Still no sign of rain clouds. This year would be different. Exhaling long and soft, she allowed her shoulders to relax. There’d be no torrential storms dampening attendance numbers and setting tempers on edge. Conditions looked to be optimal.

The grounds should be crowded during the day. On the weekdays, office workers would come for lunch and teenagers would rule the nights. The weekends would be packed with families.

It was a good day, and if her luck held, it would be an even better week.

Cassidy’s phone vibrated in her jacket pocket. She pulled it out and saw a text from an unknown caller. Not unusual. Nearly every exhibitor, vendor and fair worker had her mobile number. Still, if anyone truly needed her, they’d call over the radio.

“Should we go again?”

The governor’s suggestion was met by the cheers of the children. Between them and her exaggerated groan, they almost managed to drown out the familiar calliope music blaring from hidden speakers.

There were ten thousand other tasks she should be handling.

But she couldn’t bail with the governor on the ride.

Not for anything short of an emergency. Gripping the pole tighter with one hand, she pulled her radio from her belt with the other.

She needed to check to be sure things were good to go for the rest of the day’s events.

Pressing the button, she raised it close to her lips. “Bud, you read me?”

A moment passed before her second-in-command answered her call. “Thompson here.”

She turned away from the other adults on the ride and spoke quietly. “Hey, the big guy is having a good time down here. Looks like we’re going around again. Everything good up there?”

“We’re set up for the tasting. A few media types have wandered up here. I think they’re afraid they’ll miss out on the…” he paused for dramatic effect “…Cream-filled, Strawberry-dipped, Deep-fried, Chocolate-drizzled Funnel Cake on a Stick.”

“Holy cow,” she said with a chuckle.

“Nope, I think the cow would be the BBQ Bacon Pineapple Cheeseburger.”

Cassidy smiled. Bud Thompson’s affinity for fair food oddities was a running joke between them. “Well, you’ve got a good thirty minutes before they set up. Someone checking to be sure everything is under control in RV city?”

“Ten-four, boss.”

Smirking, she hooked her radio on her waistband.

She cast a glance at the livestock barns as they spun past. The first rounds of judging had started the previous weekend.

Many of the exhibitors camped within the fairgrounds so they could care for their animals while in competition.

It wasn’t unusual for there to be territorial disputes between families, and while the temps they hired for security were enthusiastic, they lacked Bud’s experience in deescalating tense situations.

Resolved to enjoy this moment of peace, she closed her eyes and focused on the feel of the warm breeze on her face. She refused to think about what the constant swirl was doing to her once-cooperative hair.

Her phone buzzed again.

She reached into her blazer pocket and pulled out the device. Sure enough, missed messages from unknown numbers were stacking up. Sighing, she opened the app to the green bubble of an SMS message.

Do not stop the ride.

What the hell… She looked up and down the midway. Aside from the merry-go-round, only a handful of carnival rides were active.

A moment later, a second message appeared.

Do not get off the ride.

Her heart dropped into her stomach as she reread those chilling words, and her grip tightened as she stepped closer to the edge of the platform, scanning the area as she turned.

She scrolled back to the first of the messages.

Hang on tight. I have a surprise for you.

Her mind racing, she thumbed through the rest of the texts she’d put off reading. One from a food vendor looking for a lost delivery, another from the woman who was overseeing one of the arts and crafts competitions. Then there was one that made her breath catch in her throat.

I’ve planted explosive devices throughout the fairgrounds.