Chapter Eight #2
“The mean man is responsible for keeping his partner as healthy as possible,” Jake said without rancor. “If I fell prey to puppy-dog eyes, this beast would weigh over a hundred pounds, easy.”
Cass chuckled as she chewed. “But he has such handsome puppy-dog eyes.” She beamed at her new best friend. “Tell me about the Swine Barn.”
Jake shrugged and sat back. “Not much to tell. The team found a duffel bag. Max confirmed the presence of explosives, but we had to back off before anyone could take a closer look.”
“Colonel Aronson told me your computer whiz got the file Vesta sent with information on the arrests I made,” she informed him. “They’re supposed to let me know if they have any questions or find a pattern.”
“Let’s hope they find a thread we can tug.”
“I hate thinking this is all connected to my past.” She gave a sort of laugh-snort, then shook her head ruefully. “I don’t even feel like I have a past, you know? All I’ve done is go from school to the service, and then to work.”
“No disgruntled exes?”
The question came out before he could check himself.
The last thing he wanted to hear about was her love life.
The only comfort he could take was in knowing she wasn’t about to start singing the praises of their old classmate, Robby Mc-Avoy.
Whatever they’d had going in college must have fizzled out quickly, Jake assumed.
Last he’d heard, Robby was married to someone else.
“I don’t know, you tell me,” she said, arching her eyebrows and fixing him with a pointed stare. “How disgruntled can a guy be if he’s the one who did the breaking up?”
“Depends—”
But Jake didn’t get to finish his thought.
A flash followed by an ear-splitting bang that went off way too close.
Everything around them shuddered. Max let out a sharp yip when Jake yanked Cass off the bench, covering both of their bodies with his.
The remnants of their half-eaten sandwiches littered the floor.
Jake found himself staring at a piece of cheese dangling from the edge of the bench where she’d sat.
A dozen dull blows rained down on his back.
Like someone was pelting them with tennis balls.
He lifted his head enough to peer out, but they were at the back of the ride, away from the fallout.
By the time they came around to the concourse again, the initial tremor was offset by a rush of footfalls. He turned his head and something yellow rolled out from under the bench.
Max growled, deep and menacing.
Cass panted, then pushed against him. “Let me up. I’m squishing poor Max.”
Jake eased off enough for her to push up but did not pull back enough for her to rise.
Not until he could wrap his head around what had happened.
Max growled again, and Jake forced himself to focus on what the dog might be warning them about.
Following the line of the shepherd’s snout, he spotted the yellow orb rocking listlessly on the metal platform.
It wasn’t a tennis ball. It was a rubber duck.
Cassidy fit the puzzle pieces together first. Pointing to a spot at the center of the stuffed-animal-strewn midway, she said, “I think they blew up the duck pond game.” She slid back onto the bench, battling her hair back from her face with impatient swats. “That’s six.”
“What? No. It’s number ten,” he corrected, catching hold of a nearby pole to steady himself.
She shook her head; her forehead puckered in concentration. “No, six blown,” she says, sounding a bit breathless. “They’ve detained half the devices.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Jake nodded as he surveyed the chaotic scene, every muscle in his body tensed in an effort to hold back.
All he wanted to do was hop off this infernal ride and run over to help.
They needed to put a stop to all this. Sooner rather than later.
“You’re right. But we’ve identified another four. ”
“Only two more to go,” she said with a decisive nod. Cass tilted her head in the direction of the assembled emergency workers. “Go find out how bad it is and if anyone was hurt. Give me your map and I’ll try to pinpoint some other likely locations.”
Jake unzipped the pocket on his vest and pulled out the crumpled map he’d been marking with each new discovery. “I haven’t had a chance to circle the Swine Barn,” he said as he handed it over.
She groped around in the crevice of the bench for the pen someone had brought to her. “I’ll do it. Go. Let me know what’s happening.”
Jake glanced down at his partner. “Max, stay.”
“You don’t… I don’t need a guard dog.”
“He stays with you,” he said without looking back. “I’ll only be a minute.” When he glanced down, he was surprised to find a bright yellow rubber duck clutched in his fist. The second he opened his fingers, the duck drew a deep squawk of a breath. “Here. Catch.”
Reflexes quick as a cat, Cass snagged the duck he lobbed to her from the air. To his surprise, she peeked at the bottom of the toy, then showed him the bright blue dot. “You picked a winner.”
“Everything’s coming up aces.” He jumped down. “Back in a sec.”
“Don’t forget to pick out your prize,” she reminded him.
Jake shook his head as he jogged away. Cassidy was crooning and cooing at the dog. When he looked back, he found Max gazing up at her adoringly, clearly enjoying the attention. Again, Jake pushed down the sharp spike of envy jabbing his gut.
“I am not jealous of a dog.”
Still, he couldn’t blame Max for being smitten by a beautiful woman lavishing attention on him.
His dog had lived the bachelor life alongside Jake in the years since he’d come to live with him.
Oh, the dog trainer they worked with was a woman.
And Jake dated every now and again, but he honestly could not remember the last time he’d brought a date back to his place.
“Hey, Donovan,” someone shouted as he approached.
Craning his neck, he spotted Evan Furst standing off to the side of the crowd, a small white rectangle in his hand.
He made his way over to the man, sweeping the scene as he stepped carefully through the mess of splintered wood, chunks of filler from prizes blown apart by the blast, and ducks scattered in the stream of water left from the obliterated pond.
“Hey,” he said as he approached the firefighter. “Anyone hurt?”
Furst shook his head. “Only the ducks.”
“Threw some as far as the carousel. I drew a blue one,” he said with a wry smile. “Not sure how big a prize that gets me.”
Evan gestured to the dozens of dismembered, sodden or smoldering carnival prizes scattered around them. “I think you can take your pick.”
Jake jerked his chin at the card in the other man’s hand. “What do you have there?”
“Could be nothing,” Furst said, frowning at the card then turning it around for Jake to see.
It was another one of the We’ll Be Back Soon signs they’d seen on other attractions. But on this one, the hands pointed to three o’clock.
“Do you think maybe…” Furst stopped on a wince. “Nah. Probably not.”
But Jake caught on to the other man’s line of reasoning and the thought took off like a match set to a line of kerosene. “May I?” He pinched the edge of the laminated card stock between his thumb and forefinger.
“By all means,” the other man said, sounding pleased to relinquish the possible evidence along with his suspicions. “Maybe we should see if some of the other locations have these, too?”
Nodding along, Jake pulled his mic from his vest. “See what time they’re showing.” He pressed the button to talk. “Hey, Chief?”
Aronson responded right away. “Copy.”
“I think Sergeant Furst from Fire may have found something. We’re on our way up to see you.”
Furst shook his head. “I’m a forensic specialist. I need to sift through some more of this.” He nudged a jumble of split two-by-fours and squashed teddy bears with the toe of his boot. “You go ahead. Give it to the colonel with the compliments of the LRFD.”
Fifteen minutes later, Aronson stood at one of the tall tables in the arena concourse, looking at a handful of Be Back Soon signs.
Some were pristine, like the one set for four o’clock.
It had been pinned to the doorjamb at the entrance to the Poultry Barn, not far from the spot where Jake and Max had found the storage container under the table.
Laid out beside the one from the gate, set to twelve, and the sign suction-cupped to the shattered glass door of the Arkansas Building, it looked fresh out of the package.
“Cattle Barn 1 is set to nine o’clock, and the Swine Barn to seven,” Jake pointed out.
“I sent a team down to the pirate ride,” Aronson told them. “You said you saw one in the cattle barn?”
Jake shrugged. “Pretty sure I did. It was set to six o’clock. I remember thinking the cows would get dinner before me,” he explained.
Colonel Aronson stared at him, his expression bland. “I take it your shift usually ends at seven?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Colonel Aronson?” The disembodied voice of a young-sounding woman interrupted a murmured debate about measuring time in meals.
The older man picked up his radio and spoke into it. “Go ahead.”
“We have the sign from the ride,” the woman on the other end informed him. “It’s showing two o’clock.”
Aronson straightened. “It’s as good a goose to chase as any. Go find some more of these cards.”