Page 19 of Lethal Danger

Fascinating. What an intriguing background to grow up at a fair. Hawthorne wanted to see Jazz even more now. He’d been looking for her all morning. The duty roster at the Public Safety Center listed her as working starting at eight a.m.

“Do they have any idea how the Ferris wheel car fell like that?” Freddie lowered his tone slightly as he aimed the question at Hawthorne.

“It appeared to be an accident.” Best not to spread his own suspicions around. He didn’t have any proof it had been intentional. “I understand fair ride accidents are more common than I’d realized before.”

“Maybe so.” Freddie didn’t look or sound convinced. “But they still shouldn’t happen. Not at all.”

“I’m sure they didn’t let it happen on purpose, Freddie.” Molly sent him a chastising glance. “No one wants anyone to get hurt, especially Joan and fair management. It wouldn’t do their business any good.”

“Doesn’t do anyone any good, Molly.” Freddie shook his head.

“Exactly. It’s just one of those things nobody can do anything about. Though I knew.”

Hawthorne swung his gaze to her face. “You knew?”

“I most certainly did.”

How could she have known? Unless she’d done something to—

“My cotton candy machine stalled.”

Hawthorne’s flurry of suspicions screeched to a halt. “What?”

“Yep. It just stalled. First morning, twenty minutes before opening. Terrible omen.”

Oh, brother. If only leaving the cult behind meant Hawthorne never again had to hear nonsense about omens and superstitions.

“Good grief, Molly.” Freddie said the words Hawthorne held back. “You don’t think omens are a real thing, do you?”

“Of course I do. They are real. Like two years ago.” She looked from Freddie to Hawthorne. “Neither of you were here then, but a boy died. Right on the fairgrounds.”

Hawthorne’s breath caught. Was she talking about Sam Ackerman? He worked to keep his features still as she shook her head, her hazel eyes darkening.

“Awful thing. He was only seventeen. He died on the Logboat Adventure ride.” She lifted her index finger. “And I knew something bad was going to happen that day.”

Did she have evidence the police hadn’t known about then? Hawthorne chose his words carefully. “How did you know?”

“My oven broke that morning.”

“Oh, Molly.” Freddie’s exasperated tone matched the feeling rising in Hawthorne’s chest.

“Really.” She glanced back and forth at the men. “It was a brand-new oven. Mint condition. No reason for it to have problems. But it just broke down. I knew something bad was going to happen after that.” She stared at them as if the truth in what she said was obvious. And like she wanted some kind of response.

Hawthorne glanced away to think. “I don’t—”

A slim woman with a long, dark ponytail caught his attention. Was that Jazz?

She turned from the dart balloons game, giving him a glimpse of her face as she took the hand of a small child. Not Jazz.

Disappointment sank to his stomach. He’d been doing that all morning, thinking he saw her. Which was pretty dumb. All he needed to do was look for the dog. And glossy red hair. And beautiful features.

Not that he knew what he’d say if he did see her. Any way he could think of to explain he wanted to study her, to write about her in his next novel, made him sound like a creep or a guy with the worst pickup line in history. The last thing he needed was for her to think he was interested in her romantically.

But the ideas for stories surrounding her as the heroine of his new series were taking flight. He’d already jotted down several he’d thought of in the shower that morning.

“Honey, are you okay?” Molly’s gentle touch on his arm halted the flow of plot ideas rushing through his mind. Another occupational hazard.

“Sorry.” He smiled down at the short woman.

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