Chapter Three
Cassidy watched as the man who’d once been the boy she loved walked away from her.
Again. She scowled as Jake and his four-legged partner leaped from the ride and took off at a jog.
Refusing to give in to nostalgia, she turned her back resolutely on the action and slumped in her seat, clamping down on her lip to keep from sinking into a full-fledged sulk.
“Two minutes.”
The words echoed in her memories. It was the exact amount of time her grandmother had used to allow Cassidy to feel sorry for herself as a child. Two whole minutes to play “Oh, woe is me” before getting up and getting on with things.
But before she was even a minute into her pity party, her phone buzzed. Dread pooled in her stomach as she looked down at the notification on the screen. Another unknown number with an all-knowing message.
High noon. Glad you could never resist playing the hero.
Midnight’s going to be the real banger.
High noon. Midnight.
Twelve.
A dozen.
Cassidy sucked in a sharp breath and waited for the puzzle pieces to slot into place.
She read the text twice more before pressing the button on her two-way.
“Thompson, I need you and our guys to do everything you can to clear any extraneous personnel from the grounds. Tell the vendors to pack it in for the day. Cancel competition judging. Livestock and creative arts.” She rubbed her forehead between her thumb and forefinger.
“We need to do something about evacuating the exhibitors camping on site.”
“On it,” came his response.
She waited a beat then called Bud again. “And if you see Colonel Aronson from the State Police, tell him I think we have a ticking clock situation here.”
Thompson’s reply was terse. “Ten-four.”
Setting her phone and the radio beside her on the bench seat, she tucked her chin to her chest in a vain attempt to ease the tension gathered there. It was no use. The knots forming in her shoulders only seemed to solidify the more she rolled them.
“Ma’am?”
Cassidy turned to see a fresh-faced young trooper in uniform hovering inside the cordoned area. He wore his hat pulled down to shade his eyes. Lifting a cardboard carryout container high with one hand, he took a step closer as she whirled back around.
“Captain Donovan told me to bring these to you,” he said, holding a bulging plastic bag dangling from his fingers aloft.
But she lost what he said as she circled away from him. “What?”
The minute she came back around, the trooper called out, “He said you needed food and water on hand.”
Cassidy stared at the younger man as she glided past. Jake sent someone to check on her in the middle of all this? The ride was moving slowly, but it was still enough to push her hair into her face. She brushed it away as she circled back to the officer.
“I, uh…” she stammered. “I don’t think I can eat,” she confessed. “I’m…” She made a vague circling gesture. “Yeah, probably not a good idea.”
“Manny at the corn dog stand said to tell you you’re better off with something in your stomach.
” He took a tentative step closer, then slid the container onto the nonslip metal platform between the benches with the impeccable timing of a sharpshooter.
“There’s some pretzel bites in here. You probably need the salt, too, ma’am. ”
“Trooper, you’re sounding as bossy as Manny,” she warned as she whirled away.
The next time she came around, he slung the bag into the same opening. “Here’s the water, ma’am.”
Plastic bottles wet with condensation spilled from the sack. When one attempted to roll away, Cassidy lunged, blocking the wayward bottle’s escape with her foot. “Thanks. What’s the situation at the north gate?”
The young trooper’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t have enough time to get a good read on his expression before she spun away again. “I’m not sure, ma’am. I’ve been assigned to stay near you.”
“By your pal Donovan,” she said as she came around to the front again.
“Captain Donovan. Yes, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat like a cowboy in an old Western, then hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll be within shouting distance if you need anything.”
“I need information,” she retorted. Leaning down to collect the water bottle, Cassidy used the cool moisture to slick her hair from her overheated face. He took a step back, preparing for retreat. “Hey, what’s your name?”
“Rhodes, ma’am.”
“No word of anyone hurt, Trooper Rhodes?”
“All I know is the area seemed to be clear, ma’am. The device was outside the gate.”
“Damage?” she prompted.
“I can’t say, but I heard the ticket booth is a goner.”
She nodded as she cracked the seal on the bottle. She toasted him with her water. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
Cassidy took another sip of water, snatched up the food container, and turned resolutely back toward the center of the carousel.
Manny wasn’t wrong. She’d either feel better with something in her stomach or have something to toss up if she didn’t.
Either would be better than simply trying to tough this out.
Besides, it sounded like they should plan for a long day and evening.
“God willing.”
She opened the box and the scent of fresh bread wafted up from the container, setting her salivary glands into overdrive. Her stomach gave an ominous gurgle, but she soldiered on. The pretzel bite was still warm and pillowy. The tang of salt on her tongue made her hum in appreciation.
“Good call, Manny,” she mumbled as she chewed a second nugget.
On the next rotation, she spotted Thompson speaking to the food vendor himself, both men staring worriedly at the carousel, their legs spread wide and arms crossed over their chests.
She picked up her radio. “I can see you, you know,” she said through a mouthful of dough. “Get Manny out of here.”
Thompson raised his radio to his mouth the next time she spun into view. “Working on it, boss.”
“Tell him I’m glaring at him.”
The last thing she saw as she coasted to the back of the ride was the older men raising their hands in farewell. By the time she emerged, Thompson was walking Manny and two of the other midway regulars in the direction of the south gate.
“Cass, you read me?”
The sound of Jake’s new-but-all-too-familiar voice coming from her radio was disorienting. She dropped the packet of mustard she was squeezing into a pool at the corner of the container and scowled at the handset.
She narrowed her eyes, then took her time licking a smudge of mustard from her thumb before answering.
“Walker here.”
“Max and I are on our way back.”
She scowled and pressed the talk button hard. “Don’t mind me. You go do your thing.”
“This is my thing.”
“Don’t you have things to go sniff with your dog?”
Jake didn’t respond and Cassidy immediately regretted her flippancy.
She wasn’t usually one to lose her cool in the midst of an emergency, but she couldn’t play it cool with Jake Donovan.
Hadn’t been able to pull it off when she was seventeen, and apparently she hadn’t developed the skill at age thirty-two.
The thud of boots hitting the metal deck followed by the scratch of toenails alerted her to their arrival. “I’m fine, Jake,” she grumbled grouchily without turning around.
“I need to talk to you about the message,” he said, matching her stubborn tone.
“No, I need to talk to this Aronson guy about the message.”
“He sent me,” he insisted.
“You must be expendable.”
He appeared at the end of the bench, and she sighed heavily as she set the to-go box aside, holding a pretzel pinched between her fingers.
“I am, but Max isn’t,” he said in a surly tenor. “They’ve invested a good deal of time and money in training him.”
Cassidy lowered her head, figuring it was easier to look at the dog than the man. But Max’s amber gaze locked on the nugget and his jaw dropped, allowing his pink tongue to roll out like a cartoon carpet. She couldn’t help but smile at the hopeful gleam in those sober eyes.
She stretched her hand out to offer the dog the tidbit, but Jake’s clipped command stopped her.
“No.”
She and Max tipped their heads up at the same time. Cassidy honestly wasn’t sure if the word was meant for her or the dog or both. “No?”
He gave his head a quick shake. “Max doesn’t eat people food. Some boiled chicken once in a while, but mostly no. It’s not good for him.”
The pleading look in the German shepherd’s eyes said he was more than willing to experiment, but she quickly palmed the treat. “Sorry.”
In one swift but not too subtle move, she tossed the pretzel over her shoulder. But rather than sailing forth onto the asphalt, it landed with a soft plunk on the metal platform. Max’s yearning eyes followed the morsel’s trajectory, but he made no move to go after it.
“Sorry.” She spoke directly to the dog. “You are well trained.”
Jake stroked the fur between the dog’s enormous ears. “He’s a good trooper.” He dropped beside her on the bench and nodded to her phone. “What did the message say?”
“Your boss scared of merry-go-rounds or something?” she challenged.
“I think he has his hands full with the governor.”
Her brows shot up. “The governor is still here?”
“Refuses to leave. Both Aronson and Hastings are coming unglued.”
She sat up straighter. “He needs to listen to them. We need to get everyone who isn’t security or law enforcement as far away from here as possible.”
“What did the text say?”
Inhaling deeply, she held the phone between them as she read aloud. “‘High noon. Glad you could never resist playing the hero. Midnight’s going to be the real banger.’”
Jake stared back at her. “High noon. Midnight? What do you think they meant with the hero part?”