by Amie Denman
“You’re not in danger,” she said.
“I can’t see in the dark,” he replied. “I could fall and break both elbows, and then the new ride would be behind schedule.”
“Hard to believe you can’t manage in the dark when you wandered all the way to the construction site without a flashlight.”
He stopped, faced her and smiled. “You got me. How about taking a lap around the peninsula?”
“No.”
“It might tire me out and cure my insomnia. Then you’ll know I’m snoring away in my tent the rest of the night.”
Caroline pointed down the Western Trail and started walking again. “Not negotiable. I’m depositing you in the camping zone where one of my colleagues is on guard. I’ll have Big Kenny keep an eye on you.”
Matt sighed. “You’re no fun.”
“Not in my job description.”
They crossed the train tracks where an old-fashioned steam engine chugged past dozens of times every day, pulling passengers through a shoot-out with animatronic characters in a Western ghost town. Caroline enjoyed a mellow trip around Starlight Point in the open train cars on days when her feet were tired or she wanted to unwind, but most days she preferred buckling in for a heart-stopping ride on the roller coasters Starlight Point was beginning to be known for.
“I love roller coasters,” she said aloud. “And I’m still curious why a guy who builds them doesn’t.”
“I don’t just build roller coasters. I’m a construction engineer, which means I build whatever’s on the blueprints. I’ve built everything from playgrounds to senior citizen housing. This summer and winter, my job’s a roller coaster. I make sure it gets done correctly and on time.”
“Which is why you have insomnia,” she observed.
“Exactly. At this stage of the game, it’s like being in an abstract painting. And I think it’s only going to get worse.”
As they made their way along the Western Trail, they started seeing tents.
Matt stopped and whispered, “This is my tent. I think. They all look alike.”
“Oh,” Caroline said. She was almost disappointed. Of all the things she’d thought might happen during the overnight campout, she hadn’t expected a pleasant stroll under the stars with a mislabeled trespasser who built rides he didn’t plan to enjoy. He was charming, but she wished she hadn’t had to surrender the Loose Cannon folder as soon as she’d finally gotten her hands on it.
“Good night, then,” she said.
He smiled and leaned too close. “You’re going to stand here and make sure I go inside, aren’t you?”
“Just watching out for lions,” she said. She crossed her arms and watched him slide the zipper up and quietly crawl through the opening. As she walked away, she paused a moment and scratched on the slippery nylon tent.
CHAPTER TWO
MATT DUNBAR SHADED his eyes and peered through the surveyor’s scope. The project was massive. And unique. Mixing a kiddie coaster with an adult coaster could be genius. Or a total flop. Would little kids line up for a ride that looked scary even if it wasn’t?
That wasn’t his problem. Starlight Point knew its customers better than he did. His responsibility was to make sure the intertwined coasters were built according to the blueprints, the code, the budget and the calendar.
One year. The ride had to open next May, and it had to be perfect. Perfection in a roller coaster meant it had to seem deadly when in reality, riders wouldn’t break a fingernail. He shook his head. Such a paradox.
Millions of dollars were on the line, as well as his company’s reputation and his own hopes and dreams. He had to prove himself. Not many twenty-six-year-olds got an opportunity like this. The media attention at the groundbreaking ceremony a few weeks ago was enough to remind him how high profile Starlight Point was. He’d seen his own picture on the front page of the Bayside Times with a caption saying the top secret project was all on him. Great.
Matt looked up when something caught his eye across the construction zone. A tall man, suit coat flapping, made his way over the mud and around the equipment.
Jack Hamilton. He and his sisters, Evie and June, were co-owners of Starlight Point. He was a nice enough guy and they had something in common—Jack had inherited the park from his parents, much like Matt believed he might inherit Bayside Construction someday. Perhaps sooner than he’d ever thought. His chest tightened when he thought of his stepfather’s declining health.
“How’s it going?” Jack asked.
“Good,” Matt said. He shoved his hard hat back and wiped sweat from his brow. “This part of the project isn’t much to look at, but it’s necessary. Even though it seems like we’re just making a mess.”
“I remember when the Sea Devil site looked like this four years ago. I had a hard time picturing it ever becoming a ride. My sisters still claim I don’t have any imagination, but the problem is usually just that I’m hungry. Want to get a doughnut?”
Matt glanced at his watch. He’d been on-site for three hours now and the midmorning belly rumble was slowing him down. “I could eat a doughnut.”
Jack slapped him on the back. “Let’s go to the bakery just down the midway. But you might want to take off your hard hat so you don’t attract attention. The park’s open, and people are dying of curiosity because of this fence. Of course, it’s our strategy to build excitement and that’s why we swore your company to secrecy.”
“Is the strategy working?”
“I get media requests for details and the ride name every day. And our police department has already chased at least one trespasser out of here, so I’d say yes,” Jack said.
Jack’s face betrayed nothing, and as far as Matt knew, Jack wasn’t talking about him.
“Gawkers,” Matt said.
Jack shrugged. “It’s a pain, but I’m glad people are excited about the ride. It’s a huge investment for us and we could lose our shirts if it fails.” He grinned. “No pressure or anything.”
Matt followed Jack through the mud zone to a gate partially obscured by a tree. He hung his yellow hard hat on a nail before he left the construction area.
“Pink awning,” Jack said, inclining his head down the midway. “Land of sweets.”
Matt didn’t see a pink awning. He saw a tall, slim police officer all in black. She stood, shoulders squared, watching the crowd. Her posture said don’t mess with me.
It was too much temptation. As he and Jack neared Caroline, Matt stopped.
“Excuse me, miss. Can you tell me what they’re building?” He pointed toward the long fence around the coaster project.
Caroline crossed her arms and cocked her head. She recognizes me for certain.
“They’re building a swinging bridge that will connect Starlight Point to the mainland,” she said with straight lips and a professional tone. “It will be the longest bridge built from licorice in North America.”
“That’s what I heard,” Matt said. “I’ll be sure to spread the word on social media.”
Jack laughed. “We’re getting doughnuts, Caroline. You want one?”
The owner knows her first name and is offering her doughnuts? Matt glanced at her silver name tag which only displayed her last name. Bennett.
“Of course I do,” Caroline said. “Cinnamon roll. Maple frosting. I have a break coming up, and I’m a lot nicer to teenagers with sugar in my bloodstream. This place is crawling with school groups.”
“I’ll bring two,” Jack said.
Jack and Matt strode toward the far end of the midway. When they had gone a few steps, Jack grinned. “My sister-in-law,” he said. “Interesting lady.”
“Really?”
“Her brother, Scott, just got married to my sister Evie a few weeks ago. Caroline was a bridesmaid.”
As t
hey approached the pink awning with Aunt Augusta’s Midway Bakery spelled out in script, a woman leaned across the counter. Jack gave her a quick kiss on the lips.
Matt began to feel as if he was in the twilight zone.
“My wife, Augusta,” Jack said.
Matt shook hands with the dark-haired woman and turned to Jack. “Are you related to everyone here?”
Augusta drew her eyebrows together and looked at her husband.
“We just talked with Caroline,” Jack explained. “She wants two cinnamon rolls.”
“With maple frosting,” Matt added. Augusta and Jack both turned their attention to Matt and he felt his ears get hot. So I pay attention to detail, so what? “Could you also box up a dozen for my crew? I can’t go back there and eat in front of them unless I bring enough to share.”
They ate their doughnuts while they walked back toward the construction site. Matt gave Jack the progress report, which didn’t differ much from the week before. Things were moving along on schedule, but it was still early. And worrying about the project really did keep Matt awake at night.
Jack’s phone rang as they passed the Kiddie Land motorcycles chasing each other on a track. He answered, listened and dropped the phone back into the pocket of his suit coat. “I need to go to my office,” he said. “Will you deliver Caroline’s doughnuts?”
“Sure.”
Jack handed over a white pastry bag, waved and left the midway with long strides. He cut through Kiddie Land, his steps keeping time with the beeping horns and flashing lights.
Matt headed toward the long fence where Caroline stood like a post, arms crossed. He held out the bag and was gratified to see her posture relax as she reached for it with a hint of a smile.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Anytime.” He balanced his crew’s box of doughnuts on his hip. “If you’re going to be out here all summer, we should get to know each other. So far I know you don’t like spiders or camping, you’re merciless with a flashlight and you like pastries more than teenagers.”
“Everyone likes pastries more than teenagers,” Caroline said. She opened the bag and looked inside, nodding approval at what she saw.
“I can’t believe you doubted me,” Matt said.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on the other side of the fence?”
“Yes. But I get out every now and then. Like when we’re waiting for a fresh truckload of licorice.”
Caroline smiled. “Sorry about that. While I’m standing here, I make up ridiculous answers to the question about what we’re building, but I can’t use my snarky answers with actual guests. I don’t think the Hamiltons would be impressed.”
“But you’re related to them. Jack said your brother married his sister.”
She nodded. “They met last summer.”
“And Jack met his wife here, too?”
“Yes. That was before I worked here.”
“Must be something in the air,” Matt said.
Caroline raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything.
“You could probably have your pick of jobs with family connections like yours. Why are you standing in the hot sun warding off gawkers outside a construction zone?”
Her jaw tightened and she turned steely eyes on him. “I’m willing to work my way up and earn my stripes. Justice is a serious business.”
Matt cleared his throat. “So is building stuff. I should get back to work. We’re digging out some old roller coaster footers.”
“From the Loose Cannon,” Caroline said.
Matt bit his lip and goose bumps lifted along his back. When Bayside Construction had won the bid to build the new coaster practically on top of the one his uncle had built, he’d asked his stepfather for more information. The older man had muttered something about letting sleeping dogs lie. Bruce Corbin’s heart was delicate, and Matt hadn’t pushed for details.
Why was Caroline so quick with the coaster’s name? She seemed to be a few years younger than he was, and the Loose Cannon was gone long before either one of them was born.
“How did you know about that?”
“I...studied a little park history. It’s no secret. A roller coaster named the Loose Cannon was built on this site back in the 1980s.”
Did she sound defensive?
“I’ll have to come find you if I ever need a history lesson on Starlight Point,” Matt said.
Caroline shifted her gaze to the side, refusing to meet his eyes.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to find a giant man in a black uniform.
“Is this guy bothering you?” the man asked Caroline.
“No,” she said. “He was asking directions.” She turned and pointed to the tree that concealed the entrance gate into the construction site. “That’s where you want to go.”
She walked away, leaving Matt with the giant police officer.
“Guess you ought to move along,” the man said. “Before she comes back and finds you hanging around.”
Matt let himself through the gate, shoved his hard hat on and went back to work. He considered opening a conversation with Caroline—or anyone—about the Loose Cannon. His stepfather brushing him off had been out of character. It made Matt wonder if there was more to the brief story in the family archive of things-we-don’t-talk-about. Considering his stepfamily’s connection to that ride, he was tempted to find out how much Caroline knew, just to be on the safe side.
Right now, he had work to do. This project would make or break Bayside Construction. And in the process, it would determine the fate of the people he loved most.
* * *
CAROLINE CLOCKED OUT, changed out of her uniform and headed for the filing cabinets in the corner of her chief’s office.
Some of her friends from the rides and foods departments were meeting up to play volleyball and picnic on the beach. Wasn’t the wide swath of sand in front of the Lake Breeze Hotel much more inviting than musty old files?
But she had a mission. Impress her boss and get his recommendation for the limited police academy class beginning in September. Just as important, she wanted answers about the Loose Cannon roller coaster.
She’d heard the rumors last summer, and she’d been curious about what had caused the accident. Then a few weeks ago, she’d discovered that the reclusive older couple who lived down the street from her parents had lost their daughter to the accident, but they’d never gotten any answers. The scars were so deep and wide, they’d moved away from Bayside to Yorkville where Caroline had grown up.
Caroline knew what it was like to lose someone senselessly. Perhaps that’s why the quiet Knights had finally shared their story with her.
She’d known them for years, stopping by their porch on her paper route, shoveling their sidewalk in the winter. She remembered walking past their house on the way to school one spring day when she was in sixth grade. Mrs. Knight had stood on the porch and stared at her sadly but kindly. “You remind me of my daughter,” she’d said.
Caroline had always wondered where the daughter was, expecting her to appear out of nowhere when she dropped off misdirected mail or stopped by with cinnamon bread her mother made on snowy days.
But Jenny Knight had died, her death on the Loose Cannon ruled accidental. It was hard to believe a life could be erased like a chalk drawing with no one to blame.
Somewhere in these rusty filing cabinets, there could be answers. But to find them, she’d have to spend hours scanning all the files.
“Are you sure you want to do this on your own time?” the police chief asked. “We could work it into your shift and cover you out on the midway.”
She shook her head. “It’s good experience.”
Chief Bert Walker sat in a roller chair and used his heels to shove the chair back and forth. “Rak
ing leaves is good experience, but I still pay the neighbor kid to do it so I don’t have to. This is a lousy job.”
Caroline sent him a quick smile and opened the second drawer of the cabinet on the far left. Folders with dates ranging from 1974–1978 filled the drawer.
“Should I throw these away after I scan them?” she asked.
Walker shrugged. “Seems like it would be safe to do that, but you never know when someone’s going to want to see the real thing. And these are actual public and criminal records.”
Caroline’s heart thumped in her chest. “Do people request old records very often?”
“No. Big city departments, maybe. But not here, not in years. Especially not records from before you were born.”
She pulled out the first folder in the drawer and turned on the scanner. “Am I going to find anything interesting in here?”
The chief rolled back and forth in his chair, watching as she carefully laid papers inside the marked area on the scanner glass. She closed the lid, pressed a button and a blue streak of light slid out.
“Probably not,” Walker said. “In my career here, I’ve only seen a few things that would make it onto the evening news.”
“Such as?”
“Rash of car thefts in the 1990s, right from the parking lot. People stole cars and stereos.”
“Pretty bold.”
“They were,” the chief agreed. “That’s why we have the tower in the parking lot. Used to be the worst job sitting in that tower watching the cars.”
“Worse than scanning all these files?”
“Tough call.” He leaned back in his chair. “We also had some fights over the years, some of them ugly like the one last summer, but you already knew about that one ’cause you were there. Employee theft from cash registers,” he continued, “thefts in the dorms or the hotel. But quiet for the most part. I’ve had years’ worth of petty stuff and general peace.”
“When was your first summer?” Caroline asked.
“1985.”
Her heart flipped again. “You’ve been the chief that long?”
