Chapter Twelve #2
The moment the three dots appeared, she regretted engaging with them. The person or people doing this had them running in circles and they knew it. She curled her lips in and bit down as she waited for their response.
Sad to end it. Things are getting fun.
Sitting up, Cassidy typed as fast as she could.
How does this end?
She waited. And waited. But as the minutes passed, it became clear she was not going to get an answer. Ditching the phone for the new one, she placed a call to Jake. He barely got her name out before she started talking.
“Our guy texted,” she said without preamble.
“Our guy?” Jake replied, his surprise evident.
“Guy, gal, whatever,” she said dismissively. “Asked if I missed them, how I liked the fast lane, used my rank again,” she said, feeling breathless. And then a memory caught.
Baker. Or Baker’s brother. The guy behind the wheel of the shiny muscle car. His smirky smile. His mocking tone mimicking the formal tone of address Airman Baker had used when answering her questions.
“I think I know,” she said, almost speaking to herself.
“Know? Know what?”
“I think I know who we’re looking for,” she said, her words coming slow as she tried to focus on putting the pieces together.
“You do?”
“I think,” she cautioned.
Cassidy curled her fingers into a fist and squeezed as if she could physically hold on to the wisp of certainty she felt when she shifted her attention to Airman Baker’s brother.
What had his name been? They’d both testified against him in court, but she was having a hard time coming up with the details.
“Cass?” Jake promoted.
“Shh,” she snapped, afraid he might scare the supposition away if they didn’t approach with caution. “Let me work it all through. I’ll call you back.”
“Max and I are nearby. We’re going to check the Ferris wheel then the kiddie rides, but shout if you come up with anything.”
“I will.” Ending the call, she cast the phone aside, where it clattered against the other. “Come on, come on.” She closed her eyes and willed her memory to cooperate.
Baker’s brother. Older, she thought. Cocky. She remembered his smirk clearly. What was his name?
Rather than using precious processing time trying to come up with details, she grappled for the phone again and shot off a voice text to Jake. “Can you get the file Emma Parker had on Trevor Baker? I need to see if there’s any mention of his brother in there.”
The moment she spoke the words, she recalled Emma saying something about Trevor Baker not being the one they were looking for.
“I think it’s the brother. Emma was trying to tell us she suspected Baker’s brother,” she added to the message before tapping the screen to send it.
She grabbed her radio. “Hey, Bud? Any luck tracking down the manager from the attractions company?”
There was a crackle of static, then Bud Thompson’s gruff voice rumbled from the speaker. “On the horn with him now. I’ll touch base with you shortly.”
“Ten-four.”
Running her thumbnail over the plastic ridges of the radio’s speaker grill, she tucked her chin to her chest and focused on the toes of her shoes. “Okay…okay. What do we know?”
Speaking the question out loud helped to slot some of the possibilities buzzing around in her brain into place.
They knew whoever was doing this was familiar with her military background.
Their suspect apparently had an ax to grind.
They were dealing with someone who didn’t mind waiting to take revenge.
Maybe whoever it was couldn’t act on the desire for revenge until now?
She opened the note she’d started dictating and typed “Jail time?” under her account of the security check. Airman Baker had been found guilty of his violations and discharged. His brother had been convicted, she remembered, but what kind of sentence had he served?
She’d called in the local authorities, but since he’d been trying to access a military installation at the time of his arrest, the charges were brought in federal court.
She’d been subpoenaed to appear as a witness for the prosecution, but had done nothing more than deliver the facts as to the impetus for the search, seizure and arrest.
She was deep in thought when Bud Thompson pulled alongside the carousel in his cart. He swung his legs out of the vehicle.
“Hey, boss?”
Cassidy turned to look over her shoulder as the platform spun her around the rear of the ride. She waited for the thud of heavy-soled shoes on the metal deck, but it never came. When she circled back, she waved him in. “Come on up.”
She watched as Bud frowned at the painted steeds passing him, as if gauging the speed. Cassidy picked a spot near the control box and counted the seconds until she came around again. She was moving faster than she realized. The horses were definitely moving at more of a gallop rather than a trot.
When she circled again, Bud gave his head a shake. “I don’t think I can make it.”
“Well, it’s gonna be awkward trying to have a conversation like this,” she answered, raising her voice as she spun away from him again.
The older man’s scowl deepened. Sunlight glinted off the strands of his hair that were more salt than pepper. Then he pulled out his radio. “Let’s try this,” he suggested, taking a seat on the metal folding chair abandoned by the ride operator.
“Copy.” She raised her eyebrows as she sailed by him once more. “Whatcha got?”
“Spoke to Ben Whalen at Continental Attractions. He’s down in Florida, of all places. I guess there was an issue with a county fair south of Tampa.”
“Did you tell him he has a big problem with a state fair in Arkansas?” she shouted as she went around the bend again.
“I did,” Bud assured her. “The guy’s pretty squeamish about talking to cops. Colonel Aronson asked me to get what I could out of him.”
“And?”
“He said his site supervisor should be on the premises. I asked about controlling the ride and he tells me there’s a sort of command center parked somewhere over in RV parking.
Says they can do test runs remotely, troubleshoot some of the newer rides, sort of thing.
The site supervisor stays there for the duration. ”
“Do you have eyes on the trailer?”
“Not yet.” Cassidy didn’t have to see his face to hear his grimace. Bud liked to be the man with the answers. “Whalen told me their company vehicle had to go in the shop. Some issues with hydraulics. Anyway, they rented one for the duration.”
Cassidy pursed her lips as she took this information in. “I take it this rental RV has no markings identifying it as the Continental Attractions command center,” she said dryly.
“You are correct.”
They fell silent for a moment.
Then a new voice broke in. “Did they rent it here or out of state?” Jake asked.
Cassidy sucked in a surprised breath. She’d forgotten Jake had one of their radios clipped to his belt. “O-oh. Good question.” When she came around front again, she pointed to Bud and then spoke into the radio. “Most of the vehicles in RV parking should have Arkansas plates.”
“I’ll check to see if it’s in-state or not and let your commander know,” Bud promised. “But here’s what we found funny… Whalen said he called the site manager earlier and the guy didn’t report any issues. Certainly didn’t say anything about bombs or explosions.”
A cough of disbelief escaped her. “Are you kidding me?” She gaped exaggeratedly at Bud the next time she passed.
“Nope,” Bud insisted.
“You have got to be joking,” Cassidy said.
There was a short blip of static before Jake broke in again. “What’s the site supervisor for the amusement company’s name?”
“Hang on.” Bud pulled his notebook from his shirt pocket. When she swung past again, she saw him flipping through the pages. “I know I wrote it down,” he mumbled. When she flew past him a second time, he was looking up again. “Got it. His name is Troy.”
Cassidy repeated the name “Troy” in a whisper. Alarm bells clanged in her head. When Bud came into view again, she clicked the button and demanded, “Is that the guy’s first name or last?”
“Oh, sorry,” Bud said, juggling his radio and the notebook. “Musta cut out on last one. Troy is his first name. Full name on his employment record is Troy S. Baker.”