Chapter Eleven
Cassidy stood at the edge of the platform, one hand wrapped around a pole, the other resting on the seahorse’s head.
She pressed the phone to her ear, but she couldn’t concentrate on what the woman on the other end of the call was saying.
Not when Jake was stuck between her and a hard-faced superior.
She ended the call she’d been on without another word. She wouldn’t have to worry about getting a call back. Within minutes, every news outlet in the region would be blowing up her phone. She smiled, thankful for the new phone she was using.
Craning her neck to look back, she caught Jake looking down at the hunk of smashed electronics in his hand as if he wasn’t exactly certain how it came to be in his possession.
“What the— What were you thinking?” Colonel Aronson shouted as he closed the distance to Jake.
Cassidy ached to leap from the carousel and run up to join them.
“Sir, I—”
But Jake didn’t get a chance to utter another word of explanation. The colonel thrust a cell phone into Jake’s face. Cassidy’s own cheeks burned as he took a step back. He tilted his head as if trying to get the screen to come into focus, but she knew exactly what he was watching.
Because Emma Parker had forwarded the same video sent to her phone mere minutes before.
Sinking back down onto the bench, she caught snippets of the man’s shouts as he dressed Jake down for endangering himself and everyone around him by acting so impulsively.
Every so often, Jake would attempt to interject and explain, but it was clear the commander was having none of it.
Words like “payload” and “clearance” and “renegade” were sprinkled with some mild expletives and served cold.
Though she’d planned to give him a piece of her mind for acting in such a reckless, impulsive way, she didn’t like hearing him take it from someone else.
Drawing a deep breath, she focused on the toes of her shoes as she waited for the colonel to wind down.
Oddly enough, the increased speed of the ride helped with the nausea she’d suffered earlier.
She eyed the balled-up wrapper containing the remnants of the sandwich she and Jake had attempted to share, and wondered if she could get the fire department trainee to bring her another.
Colonel Aronson’s decibel level dropped significantly by the time she made her next trip around to the concourse.
Now the two men stood examining the remains of the drone and what appeared to be a collection of parts contained in a plastic evidence bag.
The next time she saw them, she noticed Jake was still wearing bright blue latex gloves.
She knew in an instant what had caused the calm, cool, collected man she’d encountered earlier in the day to grab a long wooden pole and go Luke Skywalker on the drone. He’d believed he was bringing down the camera their perpetrator was using to watch them. Watch her.
And if his assumption had been correct, she may have had the chance to ditch the backpack and jump off this wild ride.
But he’d been wrong.
The drone was piloted by a seventeen-year-old boy named Bryce, who lived a few blocks away from the fairgrounds and wanted to get a better look at whatever was causing the commotion.
When he’d seen the wreckage left by some of the explosions, Bryce did what any seventeen-year-old in possession of some cool footage would do—he live-streamed the drone’s flight.
The local news affiliates had picked up the stream and were showing it live on the air.
That meant a good portion of the Central Arkansas viewing audience got to see a State Trooper in full tactical gear taking a grand-slam-worthy swing at a teenager’s toy.
Biting her lip, Cassidy pressed Play on the video again. There was Jake, looking handsome and dead serious, swinging a ridiculous pole like he was going after a pinata.
Though she had to admit his final swing showed much better form. It was high, for sure, but the follow-through was major-league. She paused the video at the spot where his strong arms coiled around to his shoulder and his long legs twisted around each other.
Gorgeous form.
Pressing her mouth into a flat line, she calculated the short time it would take for Jake Donovan to transform from hapless cop flailing at a drone to internet hunk intent on saving the day.
A wry smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she envisioned his baffled reaction to viral attention.
But it disappeared the moment she saw Jake turn in her direction.
His brow was lowered, his expression thunderous.
He wasn’t the sort of man who’d readily take criticism for doing what he thought was right.
This flash of stubborn insubordination appealed to her more than she wanted to admit.
Her personal phone rang and she winced. Glancing down, she saw she had a number of messages from unknown callers piled up in her voicemail and text app.
Heaven knew how many more calls she’d miss.
These days, with witnesses eager to play reporter and wielding their own camera crews, it was impossible to outpace the press.
She was thankful for the privacy setting that sent unknown callers to voicemail. Her new phone rang and she saw Emma Parker’s name flash on the screen.
“Walker here,” she said, her gaze straying to the two men caught up in heated conversation.
“You get my message?” Emma asked without preamble.
“I did. Jake’s getting chewed out as we speak.”
“Poor guy. I’d have done the same thing,” the special agent said.
“Any luck with the files?” Cassidy asked, purposefully turning away from Jake’s dressing-down.
“I think Baker is our guy,” Cassidy said.
The hum on the other end told her Emma had been thinking along the same lines, but might not be entirely convinced. “Based on? All we have is a lot of conjecture and a strong hunch.”
Cassidy laughed. “Oh, well, it’s a lot then. Book him.”
“Ha. If I could be a jury of one, I would. I am on my way over to his house to feel him out, though.”
Cassidy’s brows shot up. “He still lives here?”
She didn’t bother to mask the surprise in her tone. Most people assigned to the base were transplants. Military personnel who went wherever they were assigned. They were deployed when necessary, but unless they had some tie to Arkansas outside of their time in the service, they usually moved on.
“Is he an Arkansan?”
“He was born in California, but it looks like the family moved to Texarkana when he was young.”
“I wonder why he stayed after being discharged.”
“Married a woman from Jacksonville not long after he got out. Everything I find points to a residence in Southwest Little Rock.”
“And you’re heading over there yourself? What are you going to do, ring the doorbell and ask him if he’s been setting off bombs at the fairgrounds?”
“Heck of an icebreaker,” Emma said with a chuckle. “No, I found out he applied to join the Little Rock Fire Department a couple times. Looks like he didn’t make the cut. But that doesn’t mean I can’t follow up as part of a, uh, background check.”
“Do the State Police perform background checks for municipalities?” Cassidy’s brows drew down into a frown.
“No, but I doubt Baker knows how the process goes. I flash my badge, tell him I saw where he’s applied to the LRFD, and I want to talk to him about his discharge—both true—and see if I can get a read on him.” Cassidy caught a long gust of an exhale. “He worked in munitions, remember?”
“Right.” Something itched at the back of her mind. Something Cassidy had wanted to tell Emma when they’d discussed Baker before, but she couldn’t recall what it was.
“Okay. I’ll check back with you after and give you the rundown.”
“Sounds good.”
She looked up in time to see Jake step back, thrusting the bag and the disabled drone at Aronson, a mutinous set to his jaw. The beeps indicating the end of the call sounded in her ear as the angry colonel turned on his heel and marched back up the hill.
Cassidy couldn’t take her eyes off Jake. His back was ramrod-straight and his chin angled up in defiance, but still he looked…lost. Cassidy scooted to the edge of the bench, but she lost her line of vision. But by the time she came out the other side, he was heading straight for her.
When he stepped around the gate, she graced him with her widest smile. “Way to go, slugger.”
He shot her a glare. “Don’t you start, too.”
“Your boss didn’t look happy with you,” she commented as he and Max jumped onto the ride.
Jake grabbed the nearest pole, planting his feet wide and keeping his knees bent until he grew accustomed to the ride’s velocity. “He’s not exactly my boss, but no, he’s not happy with me.”
She gave Max a welcome pat, then peered up at the man looming over her. “My phone has been blowing up. Good thing I’m not answering it.”
He grimaced. “Sorry.”
She gestured to the bench across from her. “Sit. I can’t keep looking up.”
He dropped onto the seat. “Nauseous?”
“Crick in my neck.” She rolled her shoulders and the nylon straps of the backpack chafed against her bare skin. “Our cub reporter was streaming on YouTube and chatting live with one of the local anchors when you made your debut.”
“I hear it was a teenager.”
“A kid named Bryce,” she said with a nod. “You’re going to owe him a new drone.”
“He shouldn’t have been flying it over an active crime scene,” Jake responded through clenched teeth.
“Agreed, but this is the world we live in these days.” Then she grinned at him again. “The footage is awesome. I bet there are at least a dozen memes already.”
He quirked a single brow. “I was aiming for GIF status.”
“The way you took aim at the drone? I have no doubt you’ll be swinging through the interwebs like a guy bitten by a radioactive spider by the end of the night.”
“I always liked Superman better.”
“I know. You like the real-deal heroes, not the guys who have a bone to pick with the world.”
“I’m not hero enough to willingly strap a bomb onto my back,” he shot back.
“Nah, only antiheroes do things like run down a dock with a big smoking bomb.”