Beyond Risk

by Connie Mann

  Hunter smiled. “That is definitely possible. We’ll just ask around at some of the other booths. We wanted to meet the Tool Man, too. Is he here?”

  Sammy immediately became wary. “He keeps all the rides working, so he never stays in one place.”

  “Is he working tonight?” Hunter asked.

  “Things break down all the time. People get really mad if the rides stop. One time, the one with the swings got stuck and kept going round and round, and people were throwing up, and it went all over.” He giggled. “It was really funny.” Then he sobered. “But people got mad at Tool Man. That wasn’t funny.” He turned to Charlee with a hopeful expression. “Do you want to play?”

  Charlee glanced at Hunter, a question in her eyes. They were on a mission tonight.

  He smiled, nodded. “Let’s see what you’ve got, cher.” He pulled out several bills and handed them to Sammy.

  Air rifle in her hands, Charlee sent Hunter a saucy grin, then took aim and hit every single little yellow duck without stopping.

  Sammy clapped, and Hunter whistled. “Not bad…for a girl.”

  “Now there’s a challenge if I ever heard one. Your turn, Boudreau.”

  Hunter took the rifle and hit every duck…except the last one. Chagrined, he set the rifle down while Sammy and Charlee exchanged high fives.

  “You beat him, Charlee!” Sammy crowed.

  Charlee just raised an eyebrow and smirked.

  Hunter looked from one to the other and grinned. “I think I’ve been set up.”

  Charlee shrugged, and her grin grew wider as Sammy held up a stuffed elephant and a bear. “Which one do you want, Charlee? Or do you want to play again and try for the big bears?” He pointed overhead.

  Charlee reached for the elephant and tucked it under her arm. “I think this is just perfect.” She leaned over and kissed Sammy’s cheek, making him blush. “Thanks, Sammy.”

  Hunter stuck out his hand to Sammy. “Thank you. That was fun.” Then he led Charlee to the next booth.

  Charlee stopped in the middle of the crowd, gaped at him. “Wait. You don’t want to play again, try to beat me?”

  He shook his head, nudged her to keep moving. “We have more important things to do.” He shot her one of those killer grins. “Like ride the Ferris wheel and eat grease. As soon as we finish up here.”

  Charlee searched his expression. “I don’t understand you.”

  He swiped a finger down her cheek. “Stop confusing me with your brothers. That’ll help.” Then he kept walking.

  It took another hour for them to stop at every booth along the midway and show the pictures, but they got nothing. When they reached the end, they stepped away from the crowds to a relatively quiet corner.

  Charlee heaved out a frustrated breath. “That was a total waste of time.”

  “Not at all. It helps us narrow things down. Either none of them came here, or they blended in well enough that none of the carneys remember them. Let’s cruise by the rides, see if anyone has seen this Tool Man.”

  They made the rounds, but as before, all they got were blank stares and suspicious looks. Asking about strangers was one thing. Asking about one of their own? Nope. Nobody had anything to say.

  “That went pretty much how I expected it to,” Hunter said. “Let’s go get you some—” He stopped, looked beyond the fence to where the workers’ camp was set up. He took her hand. “One more stop.”

  They hurried along, and Hunter kept her hand clasped in his. When he smiled at her as they walked along, she felt it all the way to her heart and had the craziest urge to pull him close and kiss him, right there in the middle of the midway. To let the world know he was hers. She must have had a goofy look on her face, for he sent her a quizzical look. She shrugged. “I love carnivals. What can I say?” And I love you, you sexy man.

  She was still trying not to think about all that as they got their hands stamped for reentry and then hiked around to where the campers were. “What are we looking for? We didn’t find anything earlier.”

  Hunter kept walking until he came to an aging blue pickup truck. He glanced around, then pulled out his phone and took several pictures, including the license plate. Then he crouched down and took a picture of the tire treads and another of the imprint they’d left in the dirt.

  “Hey, what are you doing?”

  Charlee looked up to see a short, wiry man wearing a big Stetson bearing down on them. He had a cigar clamped between his teeth, and the scent of alcohol reached them several paces before he did.

  “Lieutenant Boudreau, FWC. Is this your truck?” Hunter asked. He stood in typical cop pose as he displayed his badge, looking very official.

  “Yeah. So?”

  “Were you driving it along SR-40 last Monday, late morning?”

  He spat near Hunter’s feet. “Maybe. Coulda been.” He seemed to consider. “Nah, I think I was here Monday. But it coulda been anybody.” He shrugged. “I leave the keys in it, so anyone who needs it takes it. The only rule is that you bring it back with the same amount of gas as when you borrowed it.”

  Hunter pulled out his notebook. “What did you say your name was?”

  The man crossed his arms. “I didn’t.”

  Hunter merely raised a brow and waited, pen poised.

  Finally, the man huffed out a breath. “Frank Graham. They call me Shorty.”

  Hunter wrote that down. “And what do you do for the carnival, Mr. Graham?”

  “Anything and everything. I’m the carnival boss, make sure things run smoothly while we’re here.”

  Hunter pulled up the photos. “Do you recognize any of these men?”

  Shorty scrolled through them and handed the phone back. “Never seen any of them before. But that don’t mean a thing with the kinds of crowds we get here, especially on weekends.”

  “How long are you in town?”

  “Two weeks. Every year.”

  “Do you know where I can find the Tool Man?”

  Shorty’s eyes narrowed. “He moves around a lot, fixes whatever needs fixing. Why?”

  “We know Sammy is staying with him. We just wanted to talk to him.”

  Shorty hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Check the rides.”

  “We will, thanks. Would he drive your truck?”

  “Tool Man? Sure. Sammy’s not supposed to. He doesn’t have a license.”

  “But has he taken the truck?” Hunter pressed.

  Shorty looked away. “I can’t say for sure, but I’ve heard he has, a time or two. I’ve told him not to. He’s a good kid.”

  Hunter stuck out his hand. “Thanks for your time.”

  As they walked away, Charlee glanced over her shoulder and saw Shorty whip out his cell phone and make a call.

  * * *

  After they showed their stamped hands at the ticket booth and headed back into the throng, Hunter smiled as he turned to her and asked, “You ready for that grease now?”

  Charlee grinned back and watched as he tucked his earlier seriousness away and prepared to enjoy himself for a little while. He seemed lighter, even though the cop was still there, just below the surface, ever watchful. She knew that part never really turned off. Even though she’d resigned, it hadn’t fully left her, either. It was simply part of who they were.

  He pointed to a food vendor. “Hot dogs first, or straight to elephant ears? Or maybe you want to go all out and get deep-fried Oreos, or deep-fried butter?”

  Charlee shook her head. “Eww. Why would I want to eat fried butter? Let’s go with dogs and then the good stuff.”

  They got in line. “Mustard or ketchup on the dog?” Hunter asked. “But think carefully, because if you say ketchup, we can’t be friends anymore.”

  Charlee laughed. “Deal with it, Boudreau. I put both on mine.”

  They managed to s
ecure one corner of a picnic table. Hunter kept his back to the tent, eyes casually scanning the crowd as he ate. Unlike Rick, who would ignore her completely, Charlee didn’t mind Hunter’s vigilance. She bit into her dog with gusto and let out a little moan as the flavors exploded on her tongue.

  He reached over suddenly and swiped at the side of her mouth. She leaned back, and one side of his mouth crooked up as he slowly licked his finger. “Had a blob of ketchup there.”

  Hunter’s eyes blazed green fire as he glanced down at her lips, then back up. The smoldering look in his eyes sent electricity sizzling between them, and Charlee felt the hairs on her arms stand on end.

  “I may have to rethink my stance on ketchup,” he drawled. He took her chin and slowly ran his thumb over her bottom lip, eyes never leaving hers. He pulled his hand back and slowly licked his thumb, eyes hot on hers. “You taste good, cher.”

  Charlee felt his words all the way to her core, where a warmth spread out through every nerve ending. Two could play this game. She crooked her finger and leaned closer, then closer still. His eyes flashed fire as he did the same. Closer, closer. Charlee’s heart rate sped up, and she was desperate to feel her lips against his.

  A child’s sudden cry made them both turn in that direction and broke the spell. The mother calmed the child, and everything settled back to normal.

  Except none of it was normal. There was a killer on the loose.

  And Charlee knew she’d lost her heart to the complicated lieutenant, who was completely oblivious to her feelings.

  * * *

  Hunter had to keep reminding himself that this wasn’t a date, and Charlee wasn’t his. He was on duty, for crying out loud. He couldn’t flirt with Charlee or hold her hand except as part of their cover, or lean over the table and kiss those luscious lips as he’d almost done a few minutes ago. He shoved a hand through his hair. He had to get his head back in the game and fast.

  “Let’s ride the Ferris wheel,” he growled, leading her in that direction.

  Her quick, anticipatory smile vanished at his tone, and he felt like a jerk.

  “Do you not like heights?” she asked.

  “Heights are fine. We should be able to get a good look at the whole place from up there.”

  Charlee nodded. “Right. Got it.” It was as though she was having as much trouble as he was keeping her mind on this mission.

  They busied themselves watching the crowd as they waited. When it was finally their turn, Charlee slid to the outside, but he stepped around her and sat so she was on the inside. “Just in case.”

  A grim understanding dawned. “You think someone might shoot at us up here?”

  The attendant slammed the bar over their laps, and seconds later, the wheel started moving, sending their car up, up, up.

  Hunter reached over and gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. “We should be fine. Enjoy the view.”

  Charlee hunched lower in the seat. “That was easier before you reminded me we’re sitting ducks up here.”

  They inched their way higher and higher, the car swinging to a stop every time the attendants unloaded another car below them. Hunter scanned the crowds milling around, looking for anyone who was paying too much attention to them. This wheel wasn’t as high as some, so he could still make out faces pretty well. Children pointed and laughed, older couples smiled fondly.

  He skipped over those, focusing instead on the loners, the odd single man, anyone lurking near dark corners. He didn’t see anyone who looked out of place, but he knew they were being watched.

  Beside him, Charlee shivered. “Are you cold, cher?” He moved closer, put his arm around her shoulders.

  “I think someone is watching us, but I can’t figure out who.”

  He leaned closer. “I can’t spot them either.”

  They stopped again, and Charlee looked around, annoyed. “This is not how I like to do the Ferris wheel. Takes all the fun out of it.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. We’ll have to come back after all this is over.” The sudden notion that he wanted to come back, as a real date next time so he could kiss her all he wanted and proclaim to the whole world that she was his, shocked him to his core. This was Charlee. They were friends. Okay, more than friends, way more. But when had he started thinking of them as a couple?

  Before he could say another stupid thing, the wheel started moving again. Something bounced off Charlee’s arm, and she yelped in surprise, rubbing her arm. He tried to grab the projectile, but it slid out of the bottom of the car.

  Another thwack and something hit his arm. On instinct, Hunter grabbed it and ended up staring at a bean bag. With a note tied to it.

  Leave Charlee alone.

  * * *

  Oh, no. This was not how this was going to go. That stupid cop just didn’t get that Charlee was off-limits. Yet that didn’t seem to keep him from making eyes at her, putting his hands all over her.

  No. He would pay for that. Charlee was his. They had a date with destiny.

  He slipped farther into the shadows. If Boudreau wanted to be with her, then fine. He would be. He could die with her.

  But first, Charlee would watch the others die.

  And then the fish cop would watch her die.

  Perfect.

  It was time.

  Chapter 25

  Charlee clutched the safety bar as the car headed back down. Someone had thrown bean bags at them? Between the conflicting signals Hunter kept sending and whoever was bombarding them with freaking bean bags, her emotions were all over the map, and she hated it. Suddenly, that hot dog didn’t feel so good in her stomach.

  After they got off the Ferris wheel, Hunter called in what had happened and snagged a paper bag from a food vendor. He tucked the bean bag inside as evidence, and then they walked up and down the carnival grounds several more times. Charlee still felt they were being watched, but she doubted they’d find any more clues. From the look on Hunter’s face, she figured he thought the same.

  They stopped by to talk with Sammy, but a young teenager said Sammy was on break. He didn’t know when he’d be back.

  “Let’s call it a night,” he finally said, and Charlee breathed a sigh of relief. At least in the darkened truck, she wouldn’t feel like she had a target painted on her back.

  As Hunter wove through the grassy parking area toward the exit, Charlee glanced out the window and hissed out a breath. “I can’t believe he’s still following me,” she muttered.

  Hunter’s gaze was sharp. “Who’s following you?”

  Charlee hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “I think I just saw Rick’s blue pickup, not far from where we parked.”

  Hunter slowed, studied the truck in the rearview mirror, then did a U-turn. He pulled into an empty spot beside it, grabbed his cell phone. He slid out of the truck and took pictures of the tire treads, then climbed back in again, all without saying a word.

  “You think Rick shot Brittany and me?”

  “I could see him grazing you to play the hero later, but he didn’t show up on scene afterward to do that. And I can’t see him shooting Brittany.”

  She glanced at him as they drove away, sorted through what he’d said, and had to agree. Rick would have had no reason that she could see to shoot Brittany. “But bean bags? Seriously? That doesn’t make sense at all.”

  “I don’t think it’s the same person. My money’s on Rick or Sammy for tonight’s warning.”

  Charlee chewed the inside of her cheek. “Rick, maybe, even though it’s totally creepy, but Sammy?” Charlee asked. “Why would he do that?”

  “He sees me as a threat to his crush on you. Makes sense.”

  Understanding dawned. “That’s why you didn’t search all that hard for whoever threw the bean bags. You think it was Sammy.”

  Hunter shrugged. “He doesn’t need any trouble in his life
.”

  Charlee cocked her head, frustrated that she couldn’t see his eyes. “You feel for him.”

  “I guess I do.”

  Once back at the cottage, Charlee went into her room to get ready for bed, but the quiet of the cottage only magnified the volume of her fear and frustration. She paced her bedroom, but her frantic thoughts chased each other like hamsters on a wheel, every turn increasing her worry until her heart hammered in her chest and she was breathing like she’d run a marathon. Finally, she marched to the kitchen, too agitated to be quiet. She poured a glass of milk and had a cupcake halfway to her mouth when Hunter stepped up behind her. She jumped in surprise as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his bare chest, rested his chin on her head. “We’re going to get whoever is behind this, cher.”

  Charlee nodded and let herself sink back into his embrace, as she slowed her breathing and rubbed the ache where her heart pounded. She was so tired. So worried. What if she couldn’t find this nut job before he hurt someone else in her family? She couldn’t let them down. She had to stop this cowardly piece of trash. Visions of her mother under the water and both brothers in the water flashed like strobe lights. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  Her head snapped up. “I need to call Natalie.”

  When she would have leaped into action, Hunter tightened his hold, rubbed a hand over her arms. “It’s 1:30 in the morning, cher.”

  Charlee pushed at his arms, and he instantly let go. “She might be up studying. Or partying. But either way, she’ll get my text. Or she’ll see it as soon as she wakes up.” Charlee grabbed her phone, texted: Check in as soon as you get this. Need to know you’re ok.

  She gripped her hair and started pacing. “We have to figure this out. I’m afraid she’ll be next.”

  * * *

  Hunter caught her on her next pass, ran a hand down her arm. “We have someone watching her, remember?”

  Charlee stopped, turned to him, eyes bright with panic. “What if it’s not enough? What if he gets to her? She’s not as strong as Pete or Josh. She won’t—”

  Hunter cupped her cheeks in his hands and silenced her with a kiss. He couldn’t bear to hear the terror in her voice. He’d never seen her this way. She exuded calm in crisis situations, had been incredible every second of this whole ordeal, even after this SOB had gone after her mother. But it was thinking about Natalie in danger that pushed Charlee over the edge.