by Trudi Jaye
Rilla laid a hand on his arm. “It’s fine. We’re okay. She’s going to be back out at the Carnival very soon. In fact, I better head home to meet her.” She turned and headed toward the door, where she stopped and turned back to him, one hand on the knob. “Thank you for letting us open the gates again. You don’t know how much it means to us.”
“Don’t mess up. It’s on my head as well, now.”
“We won’t,” she promised.
Rilla closed the door behind her and headed out along the corridor of the sheriff’s offices. Her shoes clipped on the hardwood floor, the sound echoing around her.
At least she could report back to the Nine that they were open for business. It might make them a little less pissed off at her for the whole damn mess, including how friendly she was becoming with the Mark.
Garth was particularly upset with her. He’d gone along with the idea of Kara patting Martha or having a behind-the-scenes experience, but now that Rilla was going to put her up on a silk ribbon for a show, he was furious.
It was an unwritten rule: never get too close to the Mark and never put them in a dangerous position. If something happened to Kara while Garth was still in her head, it would end badly for both of them.
Added to the implicit physical danger to Garth, there was also the chance Rilla would have to do something to Kara that she didn’t want to, for the good of the Gift. She couldn’t afford to be her friend. Blago was a prime example of how getting too close to a Mark could ruin the magic.
Exiting the building, Rilla ran down the stone stairs two at a time, out into the sunshine, allowing it to warm her skin. Pausing for a moment at the bottom step, she leaned on the railing, lifting her face to the heat, trying to bring warmth back into her body. She felt like she’d been cold for days.
“Rilla!”
She jumped. Opening one eye, she saw Jack running across the road toward her. “How’s Blago?” she asked warily as he came closer.
He nodded. “He’s okay. Joey’s there with him now, and some of the thrills boys have been in to visit.”
“Will he be able to come back to the Carnival?” she asked, looking up into his face. She was still trying to understand why he defended her last night.
He nodded. “I can’t convince him to go back to the house.” Jack paused. “He’s adamant that I contest the Ringmaster title.”
Something shifted in Rilla’s chest. “You don’t want to do it?”
“My father could have done it. He knows the way things work. I’m not sure I can. I think you’d be a better Ringmaster.” Jack rubbed one hand over his stubble. He had matching dark stains under his eyes.
“You’re trying to keep your father happy?” Rilla watched him carefully, trying to decide if he was serious.
Jack shrugged. “I’m just doing what you told me to do. I’m trying to look after my father.”
Rilla couldn’t believe her ears. “The one time you decide to do what I tell you and it’s to run against me for Ringmaster?” She gave a snort of laughter.
Jack smiled down at her, a lock of hair falling over one eye. “It’s nice to see you laugh.”
Rilla pushed herself away from the railing. “Even if it’s me laughing at the irony of life?”
“Even then.” Jack fell into step beside her as she walked slowly down the street to her car.
“You need a lift?”
He shook his head. “I have my car.” He hesitated. “But maybe we could grab a coffee before we head back?”
Glancing up at him, Rilla’s heart thudded faster. When he wasn’t angry or annoyed or doing something underhanded to ruin her chances at becoming Ringmaster, Jack was actually rather appealing. And he’d defended her right to be Ringmaster last night. But he’d also been rather devious in the race for Ringmaster. She couldn’t let that go.
“I don’t think so,” she said.
“I know we haven’t gotten off on the right foot. But just spend some time with me. A coffee and a chat.” His hair had fallen across his eyes again, partially hiding his tawny gaze.
Rilla swallowed hard. “I don’t—”
Jack stopped on the sidewalk, forcing Rilla to halt next to him. “Look, I get that I was an asshole. I was too focused on trying to help my dad. I’m really sorry. But I think we can—should—be friends. Just let me try to show you that I’m not such a bad guy?”
Rilla took a deep breath, trying to find an answer in her jumbled thoughts. “Okay,” she said, surprising herself.
Jack grinned. “You won’t regret it.”
Rilla wasn’t so sure.
They sat across from each other in the small courtyard of the local cafe. Rilla sipped her hot lemon tea and ate a small spoonful of the carrot cake she’d ordered. The sweet cream cheese icing was velvety smooth in her mouth. “Did they say when you can bring Blago home?”
“They want to watch him a day or two longer.” Jack paused to take a sip of coffee. “He was telling Joey stories of what it was like when he and your father were young boys.”
“Filling his head with bad ideas, no doubt.”
Jack laughed. “Definitely. I hadn’t quite realized. They were best friends.”
She gave Jack an apologetic smile. “Dad never talked about Blago.” It had been a bolt from the blue when they both turned up.
Jack nodded. “Blago always talked about Abacus in the abstract. As the Ringmaster. Never with such… I don’t know… depth of feeling as he did today. It surprised me.”
Nodding her head, Rilla played with the spoon in her drink. “They’re so similar. They were either going to be inseparable or hate each other.”
“The Carnival’s too small for them to have hated each other.” Jack smiled, but it faded as he continued. “It’s a huge gap in his life that I don’t know anything about. I thought I knew him so well.” He pushed his finger along the ring pattern of their wooden table, watching it intently as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.
Rilla leaned toward him from across the table. “You do know him. Just a different aspect of him. The Carnival brings out things in us we don’t always expect.” She thought of Jack’s potential for being a blocker and the chaos that would mean if it were true.
“Speaking of the unexpected… Tell me more about this Frankie character.” Jack leaned his arms on the table, his eyes again focused on Rilla. She felt a burst of heat over her face and down her neck at the warmth in his tawny-brown gaze. It was the same look he’d given her just before he kissed her.
She cleared her throat, trying to remember his question. “Frankie’s a special case.”
Rilla had seen Jack’s reaction to Frankie the night before. He’d been angry and confused by his sudden appearance.
Frankie was a reminder of the darker side of the Carnival. Trapped by his abilities, Frankie wanted out, and he could never have it. It was in his blood, and he would pass it on to his children, if he had them, whether he wanted to or not.
“I just asked Blago about him, and he’d never heard of him.”
“Maybe you asked the wrong question. Frankie’s dad would have been Chancemaster back when Blago was last there. Drake wanted to be there, so his abilities affected him differently. It was a lighter load for Frankie’s father.”
“But why doesn’t anyone talk about Frankie? Why doesn’t he go to the meetings of the Nine?”
“He’s young, only twenty. He didn’t want to be Chancemaster. He was off in Vegas when his dad died unexpectedly, and he was dragged back here by the magic in his bloodline. He desperately wants to rebel against it, but he can’t. He’s compelled to be here. I guess that’s why we leave him alone. He has enough to handle already.”
“How did he suddenly appear last night?”
Rilla paused. Last night, Frankie’s presence had pulled her back from the edge of folding. But it really wasn’t a good thing he’d been able to emerge. “It means the Carnival is very weak. He’s been able to push out against the forces keeping him locked
in. It’s always been so strong, Jack. That’s the first time he’s been out since he came back from Vegas.”
“How long has he been trapped in his caravan?”
Tipping her head to one side, Rilla considered. “Almost two years. Since his father died.”
“Does no one visit him?” Jack sounded horrified.
“He’s not always open to visits,” said Rilla. It was a polite way to describe the angry fits Frankie sometimes threw if you arrived on his doorstep at the wrong time. “But, yes, I do visit him. So does Joey. He runs for him. Frankie still controls his division, like the rest of the Nine do.”
“Except he never leaves his caravan.”
“He has everything he needs there. Television, computer, phone. He has secret cameras set up around the place that he thinks I don’t know about. He has probably more contact with the outside world than the rest of us.”
“It’s not the same.” Jack shook his head. “He must be going crazy.”
Rilla nodded. Jack was probably right. “I think… he’s become accustomed to it. But the fact that he’s now out, it means we’re in huge trouble, Jack. Frankie’s power is like the temperature gauge in a car. At the moment, it’s in the red.”
Jack was silent for a moment, one finger tapping the edge of his coffee cup. “Alfie told me about the person sabotaging the Carnival,” he said after a while.
Rilla frowned. “What did he say?”
“That you’re taking up where your father left off in the investigation. That you think your father was killed by the same person.”
Rilla stared at Jack, her eyes narrowed, trying to understand why Alfie had told him. No one else knew about her suspicions.
She didn’t think he had anything to do with the sabotage, not anymore. But did she dare tell him what she was really doing with Kara? “I have to look for the saboteur. The Carnival will be destroyed if we don’t find them soon.”
“What have you been doing? What’s your plan?”
“I have Dad’s notebook of suspects. He was pretty thorough and marked everyone off.” Rilla thought of Blago’s and Jack’s names in the book. “And Kara’s helping me. She’s looking through the police reports from Dad’s accident.”
Jack leaned back, clearly surprised. “Is that normal, to get help from the Mark like that?”
Rilla shook her head.
“But then nothing about this situation is normal, is it?” Jack put his chin in one hand, tapping a finger against his cheek.
“Nope, nothing’s ever normal around here.” She grinned at him.
***
Rilla looked up, her neck stretched, her hand over her eyes as she tried to see Kara through the bright lights at the height of the big top. It was only Kara’s first lesson, but she was up there with Barb, her face beaming.
Barb had been pale when she arrived, but she was determined to be the one who showed Kara how to work the ribbons.
Rilla could only hope she recovered faster than expected. Christoph had been beside himself when he’d realized Barb had been one of those affected by the poisoning. Rilla had seen him pacing around the caravans that night, dark shadows on his face, hands clenched as if he wanted to punch someone.
Christoph was standing in the tent now, a few yards away, watching Barb intently. “She shouldn’t be doing that,” he said abruptly, not taking his gaze from her.
Rilla glanced over at his tall, solid form. He was a mountain of a man, literally a rock for the Carnival members to flow around. He was always steady, never getting angry, and always speaking sense. But today, he seemed off-center. Anger simmered near the surface and ricocheted off Rilla’s senses.
Barb must have been worse than she’d realized to make him act like this. She stared up at where Barb was dangling from the roof, talking to Kara as she leaned against the edge of the high-wire platform. “Was she very sick, then?” she said. “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have agreed to let her teach Kara today.”
Christoph let out a noise that was almost a growl. “She wasn’t supposed to get hurt.”
Rilla frowned. “No one was supposed to get hurt, Christoph. It’s not like anyone planned to get poisoned. Barb’s very careful up there. You know that.”
Christoph let out another sound, guttural and low. He pulled his hand through his hair, pulling at the ends, almost as if he were taking his frustration out on himself.
She stepped toward him. “What’s the matter, Chris? Are you okay?”
He backed up, not meeting her eyes, his movements jerky. “I’m fine. I’m just worried about Barb,” he said gruffly. His mustache twitched in agitation.
“It’s almost time for them to come down. We don’t want Kara getting too tired on her first day. We’ll work her on the trampolines tomorrow to get some of the movements and gauge how she balances with one leg. That’ll be easier on Barb.”
Christoph didn’t reply, just continued to scowl, keeping his eyes trained on his wife.
Rilla sighed and walked around to the base of the high-wire platform. She waved up at Barb and saw her nod before she gestured to Kara to climb down. Kara turned reluctantly and began the descent, using her arms and single leg as Barb had shown her.
As she climbed slowly down, Kara’s face was tilted upward, watching as Barb performed moves high above them. Barb’s body flowed as if it were part of the silk, moving in ways that seemed impossible but at the same time so fluid, it was mesmerizing.
“How was that?” Rilla said as Kara finally put her foot to the ground. A pair of crutches leaned against the bottom of the high-wire ladder.
“It was amazing,” said Kara as she positioned the crutches under her arms. “I didn’t want it to end. Barb is so graceful.” Kara’s face lit up.
In turn, it lightened a little piece inside Rilla that she hadn’t even realized was heavy.
Kara moved off toward her bag near the seating platforms where her prosthetic leg and other clothes were waiting.
Rilla followed behind her. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. When I put you on the spot with Jack and Garth, I didn’t know if you were really okay with it.”
“I promised to help, didn’t I? This way, I can be here to practice, and then we can go over what we’ve found out.” She was buzzing with excitement, and Rilla finally realized it wasn’t all to do with being up on the ribbons.
“You found something already?”
Kara nodded. “Let’s go to your caravan.” She smoothly strapped her prosthetic to her stump and pulled sweatpants over her spandex bike pants. She stood and waited for Rilla to lead the way.
Rilla walked ahead, thoughts boiling in her head. This was crazy. She hadn’t really expected Kara to come up with anything useful, at least not so fast.
A knot formed in her stomach. What could it be? Was it something she was ready to see? The truth was she was a little closer to the edge than she’d ever admit aloud. What if Kara had found something that would tip her over?
In the caravan, holding her hands around the warmth of her mug of tea, Rilla waited until Kara settled across from her on the bench seat. “What have you found?” she asked.
Kara smiled and took a sip of her coffee. “I checked the official records first thing this morning. There are some anomalies.”
Rilla frowned. “What do you mean?”
“They were so sure it was an accident they didn’t pay proper attention to the scene report. They ignored the clues of someone else being involved.” Kara pulled photocopied pages out of her bag. They were already a little ragged and well-worn, with highlighter marks over the lines of several pages.
“You did all that this morning?” Rilla asked in surprise.
“Sure. We don’t have much time.” She pointed at the photo and diagram on the second page. “Here’s the first major flaw. They didn’t analyze the skid marks around the scene of the accident.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” said Rilla uncertainly. She tipped her head to see the picture Kara poin
ted to.
“But what if you match it with the fact there were other skid marks from another car in the same place, from the same day?”
“Surely they would check out something like that…”
“The report says they believed the marks were from another car sliding out at a different time, and it was a dangerous part of the road.” Kara smoothed out the roughened papers in front of her and then glanced up at Rilla. “That’s not all. There was glass on the road, not all of it from your father’s car. But they wrote it all off as another accident.”
“Was there another accident the same day?” Rilla felt like she was thinking through glue. Her brain was trying to link together the information, but she couldn’t quite get it to make sense.
“Nothing was reported for the entire week before. I checked.”
“Was that all?” It felt like enough, far more proof than she’d ever really thought to find. Dark spots appeared in the corners of her vision, and Rilla blinked, rubbing her suddenly tired eyes.
Kara shuffled through the papers. “There was a scratch along the side of the car. They reported it as part of the assessment of the car at the crime scene, but the deputy who investigated it wrote it off as something that probably happened before the crash. Did your father’s truck have a scratch down one side the last time you saw it?”
Rilla shook her head. “He was proud of that truck. Kept it pristine.” She touched the papers in front of her, turning them around to face her. “Why didn’t all this add up for the sheriff’s office?”
“They weren’t looking for it. They see what they want to see sometimes.” She paused, her eyes fixed on the photo of Abba’s truck.
Rilla sharpened her gaze on Kara. “That’s not what happened in your case. You didn’t cause the accident. Someone planned and killed my father. That’s a crime. That’s what we focus on.”
Kara nodded, her eyes glistening for a moment before she wiped them with the back of her hand. “It’s not really enough to prove anything. And it doesn’t get us any closer to finding out who could have done it.”
