Page 10 of Lethal Danger

Two EMTs rushed toward Bob where the man lay on what looked like a blanket.

Sofia and Raksa went to join a line of other security guards at a perimeter they’d established outside the fence.

A larger crowd than Jazz would’ve expected gathered there, given how many entertaining activities they could be enjoying at the fair instead. But some people apparently thought injuries and disaster were always the best entertainment.

Jazz slowed as Aunt Joan stopped near the fallen car.

Butch Klika gave Jazz a gruff nod as she approached. But everything the head of security did was gruff. Even the way he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his large hand was gruff.

“Well?” Aunt Joan looked at him, then glanced toward the two police officers crouched by strewn parts from the damaged cabin.

He tilted his broad head toward the officers who must have come from an offsite department. “They have a theory.”

Aunt Joan took three steps to stand over the officers. “Hello, officers. I’m Joan Cracklen, General Manager of the Tri-City Fair.” Her tone cooled to the patient and pleasant one she used for public relations. “Have you found anything?”

The men stood and faced her, their expressions calm but serious. The taller of the two men gestured to the shorter guy. “Officer Burns. And I’m Sergeant Wentworth.”

Aunt Joan nodded. “A pleasure, though not under these circumstances, perhaps. Have you been able to determine why the car fell?” Her features relaxed as if she wasn’t worried at all. But Jazz spotted the barely perceptible vertical depressions on either side of her mouth. They only showed when she was tense or upset.

The sergeant pointed down at small bits of something on the blacktop. “These rivets have come apart. They’re nearly rusted through.”

“Hmm.” Aunt Joan kept her face as unreadable as she could.

“If you’ll come this way, I’d like to show you something.” The sergeant picked up a long piece of flattened metal and headed toward the crushed car.

Aunt Joan shot Jazz a look before she followed. A look that said Jazz was supposed to come, too. Though why her aunt wanted her there was beyond Jazz. She usually had the opposite desire where Jazz was concerned—to get rid of her as soon as possible.

Jazz kept a couple feet between them, preserving what Aunt Joan called the polite personal space window, as they stopped at the rear of the car.

“See here?” The sergeant bent to place the metal piece against the indented section of the cabin that seemed to be fitted for that part. He pointed at holes that aligned with other holes drilled in the metal piece. “Looks like the rivets were there.”

“I see.” Another careful answer from Aunt Joan. She needed to be cautious. Couldn’t leave the door open for accusations or liability.

“So the rusted rivets broke off and allowed the cabin to fall.” A man’s voice drew Jazz’s gaze over her shoulder.

The security guard.

Her pulse hopped at the sight of the tall, very swoony guy. How long had he been nearby?

Flash apparently didn’t consider him a threat, since he hadn’t given any warning.

Aunt Joan looked at the handsome guard but didn’t appear impressed.

The sergeant nodded. “Looks that way.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.” Aunt Joan stepped closer to the policeman to shake his hand. “We’ll have an inspector come immediately to conduct our own accident investigation, as well. Accidents with fair rides are sadly common, though we’ve had very few at the Tri-City Fair during our long history.” She sounded like she was warming up for the press conference she’d have to hold soon. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to contact the inspector and begin necessary reports.”

The sergeant said a polite goodbye and went back to his fellow cop.

Aunt Joan turned toward Jazz with a stern expression that twisted Jazz’s insides in a knot like she was still a little kid under her aunt’s roof. “I need to talk to you.” She said the words under her breath as she brushed past Jazz, clearly intending Jazz should follow her again.

The hunky security guard watched Jazz as she passed.

She gave him a small smile that she hoped didn’t look too nervous or desperate.

As soon as they were out of earshot of others, Aunt Joan swung toward Jazz. “You need to help me with damage control.” She kept her voice low and glanced around. “We haven’t had an accident like this in decades.”

“There was the time the kiddy train got stuck on the bridge.”

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