Page 11 of Lethal Danger

“I mean something this serious.” Aunt Joan’s eyes flashed. “With injuries that could have been fatalities.”

“But you said yourself, accidents happen on rides a lot more often than people realize. Didn’t you tell me there are about twelve hundred accidents a year?”

“Yes. But the public doesn’t realize that. This could make people feel our fair is no longer safe.”

“Okay.” Jazz looked at her aunt, trying like always to figure out what the woman wanted from her. She’d never figured it out yet. “So what can I do?”

“You can make sure the security team, staff, vendors—anyone you talk to—understands this was a rare accident that could happen at any fair. It’s an anomaly. The Tri-City Fair is perfectly safe.”

Jazz nodded. “Got it.”

Aunt Joan stared at Jazz like she didn’t believe her. “I know how rumors start and gain legitimacy among people who seem to have close access to the truth. If the people who work here spread a false story, that this was intentional or due to some negligence, the fair could be in jeopardy.”

“I understand. I care about this fair as much as you do.” Maybe even more. It was the only thing Jazz and her aunt had in common. For Aunt Joan, it was her life, her pride and joy. But for Jazz, it was the only place she’d felt special, accepted, and happy. She wasn’t going to let anything happen to the fair on her watch. “I’ll make sure no one is spreading harmful rumors.”

“Excellent.” Aunt Joan glanced around one more time, as if checking for eavesdroppers. “I wanted to catch you today. We’d like to invite you to Sunday brunch after church.”

The swallow Jazz had been in the midst of stuck in her throat. She coughed, covering her mouth with her hand like her aunt had drilled into her as a girl. “Sorry.” She coughed again.

Aunt Joan was inviting her to the house? With her and Uncle Pierce? Disbelief threatened to choke Jazz again. “Brunch?” It was the only thing she could think to say.

“Yes.” Aunt Joan’s eyebrows gathered as she watched Jazz like she was being the weird one. “Come at eleven.”

“Um.” Jazz swallowed back the tickle in her throat. “Okay.”

“Good.” Aunt Joan stepped around Jazz without so much as another glance and stalked away.

Jazz stared at her retreating figure before letting her gaze travel over the crowded bystanders, the medics, and the smashed Ferris wheel car.

She didn’t know which of this morning’s events surprised her more. Her Tri-City Fair—the safe haven of her childhood—becoming dangerous or her aunt inviting her to a family meal, voluntarily.

The nerves that tingled in her belly gave her the answer. Definitely brunch with Aunt Joan and Uncle Pierce.

Four

Rebekah let out a low whistle as she preceded Hawthorne through the hallway that opened into a large, open concept space with a living room, fully equipped kitchen, and a white spiral staircase that climbed to the balcony and bedrooms.

Hawthorne smiled at his sister as he moved past her into the living room decorated in a modern style with white furnishings and gray and black accents. “Welcome to my temporary home.”

Rebekah’s big blue eyes found Hawthorne, the wonder in them reminding him how young she was. Or how old he was. “I’ve never seen a Floatbnb like this one. Well, only in pics, I guess.” She slipped her oversized bag from her shoulder and let it drop on the wood floor. Kicking off her flip-flops, she scurried onto the white shag rug.

She giggled as she curled her bare toes into the soft fabric. “Wow. Is this how you always live?” She whipped out her smartphone from the pocket of her barely there jeans shorts, probably planning to take pics, as she called them.

Yep, thirty-one had never felt quite so old until being in the presence of this nineteen-year-old sprite.

He was glad all his personal belongings were tucked away in his suitcase upstairs, so he didn’t have to interrupt her frenzy of photos. Which she was probably already posting to her social media accounts in the next five seconds that she tapped on her phone.

“Not exactly.” He pressed the button on the espresso maker to start the drink he’d prepped before Rebekah had arrived. “I got a good deal on this rental.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” She turned her bright eyes on him and hurried to the island in the kitchen where he stood on the opposite side. “The stuff online about you is pretty crazy. You’re really famous.” And rich, her big grin probably meant. “Don’t try to be all humble about it.”

He closed his mouth, stopping the response she would probably deem too humble. “I’ve been blessed to have some success.”

“It’s so unbelievable you’re a writer. I’d love to do something like that.”

“I don’t think you told me what your major is.”

She paused before answering, giving Hawthorne a moment to study her face. Strange that his own sister was so unfamiliar to him. But she’d only been six years old when he’d left.

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