Page 28 of Lethal Danger

“So?”

“He’s a famous author.” Jazz lifted her hands to emphasize the obvious point. “He’s a celebrity, New York Times bestseller and all that. He probably only dates supermodels or something.”

Nev’s features scrunched in her you’re-being-weird expression. “I don’t think it works like that with writers.”

“It does when they look like that.” Jazz pointed an exasperated hand in Hawthorne’s direction.

“Okay. You might have a point.” Nev tilted her head to concede. “But in case you ain’t been lookin’ in the mirror lately, girl, you fit the bill.”

Jazz let out a disbelieving laugh. But her heart warmed at Nev’s encouragement. Now might be a good time to tell her about the attempted mugging or assault—whatever it was supposed to be—last night.

Jazz had wanted to call Nev after the attack, almost out of instinct, but she’d held back just in time. She didn’t want to be the annoying friend who kept getting in the way of Nev’s relationship with Branson. They were having a nice evening without Jazz’s drama. Branson was in the picture to stay well into the future, hopefully. And Jazz was happy for her friend. So she needed to get used to handling everything alone again.

All the more reason not to bother telling Nev about the incident now. Wasn’t a big deal anyway. The police had agreed it was an attempted mugging or assault. Jazz was just glad the thugs had picked her instead of some less-prepared woman alone.

She took a breath and donned a smile. “Before we get too far down this flattery rabbit hole, we should probably go see what Butch wants us to do next. And maybe I should tell him what Flash found, though Hawthorne will probably mention it.”

“Sure.” Nev and Alvarez fell in step alongside Jazz and Flash as they headed toward the others gathered under the slide. “And I think we should hold a PK-9 team meeting, even though Phoenix is gone.”

Jazz tossed Nev a surprised glance. “You think Sof will want to?” Didn’t seem like they ever did team meetings when Phoenix was away on one of her mysterious trips. Or disappearances. Who knew if she even went anywhere. Or where she went if she did.

“Now that it looks like this was intentional sabotage, I think we need to meet. We might have to change our protection strategy or something. I’ll ask Sof when she comes on shift at four.”

Learning the slide explosion was an intentional attack had already changed everything for Jazz. Maybe the Ferris wheel wasn’t an accident either.

And that meant one thing. Someone was trying to wreck the fair.

Why, she didn’t know. And she didn’t care. The Tri-City Fair was supposed to be a place of happiness, joy, safety, and sweet memories for children and families.

No one was going to destroy that. No one.

Nine

Hawthorne bypassed the line of visitors waiting to take the Logboat Adventure ride and opened the chain-link gate that blocked a concrete path. He closed the gate behind him and followed the walkway, but his mind was elsewhere.

The image of the Best Life pin, forever seared in his memory, now blocked his vision. What was it doing on the fairgrounds? Directly under the slide that had just blown up. Well, not exactly. The fifty-year-old slide itself was relatively undamaged. But the supports would need to be rebuilt, and the ride probably closed for the rest of this year’s fair. Was that the goal? Why?

Cult members weren’t even allowed to attend the fair. It was so-called worldly entertainment and included on the very long, unwritten list of activities and choices banned by the cult. Or, more specifically, by Desmond Patch, founder and leader of the Best Life cult. Destroyer of families. Thief of lives.

The staff entrance door stood in front of Hawthorne, and he halted the maddening train of thought he tried to avoid riding as much as possible. It always led to the same place. A dead end of frustration, sadness, and helplessness.

Hawthorne slipped his ID card into the reader and waited for it to beep and blink a green light. He pushed open the door and stepped into the darkness of the Logboat Adventure ride cave-like tunnel.

Whoever had dropped the pin had broken the cult’s rules to be at the fair. Like Sam had. Funny how breaking the cult’s rules seemed to go hand-in-hand with trouble. Though funny was probably the wrong word for the correlation. Frightening would be more appropriate.

Hawthorne walked along the narrow path that was a few inches below the faux riverbank. The riverbank continued to the middle of the tunnel where it met the manmade river that was bordered by another bank on its opposite side. The skinny path Hawthorne took allowed staff members to get where they needed to without damaging the foliage and rocks of the life-like riverbank.

Laughter and voices echoed in the cave as visitors coursed down the river in boats shaped like carved-out logs.

They passed Hawthorne without paying him any attention. Probably couldn’t see him in the darkness where he was.

Dim lights illuminated the river and shore with just enough light to appreciate the display but also keep the atmosphere slightly surprising and mysterious. That allowed for more excitement when they reached the rapids sections of the ride and the dramatic plummet at the end. Though one of the more sedate rides at the fair, visitors wanted some degree of thrill to keep it entertaining.

Hawthorne slowed as he reached the section he was looking for. The curve after the first rapids.

He stopped and watched logboats float past, most holding two or three visitors each. He waited until a few minutes passed and no boats appeared. Should signal the end of this batch of visitors. It would take at least ten minutes for those riders to finish the ride, disembark, and a new group to load up and start. Hawthorne shouldn’t need that much time.

He carefully stepped up onto the riverbank display. It was firm but pliable under his shoe.

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