“Yes, sir.”
“Colonel Aronson?” The disembodied voice of a young-sounding woman interrupted a murmured debate about measuring time in meals.
The older man picked up his radio and spoke into it. “Go ahead.”
“We have the sign from the ride,” the woman on the other end informed him. “It’s showing two o’clock.”
Aronson straightened. “It’s as good a goose to chase as any. Go find some more of these cards.”
Chapter Nine
Cassidy’s mind swam with confusion. Between the blast, the near confrontation with Jake about their past, and hours spent spinning on this never-ending merry-go-round, she was completely undone.
She was so tired of watching him walk away. She was sick—literally sick—of being stuck on this ride. She was also feeling fairly fed up with the teams working the site looking at her like she was some kind of helpless heroine. She was working this case as hard as any of them.
And with a bomb strapped to her back.
Maybe not her brightest idea, but she’d acted on instinct. And she’d do it again. Probably.
The click of toenails on metal dragged her out of her sulk. She turned to find Max standing at the edge of the platform,
“You’re right,” she said, addressing the dog as if he were holding up his end of the conversation. “I would. I couldn’t let an innocent kid walk around with it, could I? What if he’d gotten on the bus? Who knows what this lunatic might do.”
Max opened his mouth as if to speak, but then he simply started panting.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, dismissing his nonverbal commentary with a wave of her hand. “Well, sometimes someone actually has to step up and be the hero, you know?”
The dog’s eyebrows twitched, then he turned and plopped his rump down, staring out at the midway, his eyes bright and ears standing at attention.
“Don’t be cute.”
Max cast her a pitying glance, then smiled his doggie smile and returned to his surveillance. Cassidy decided to take a cue from the dog and get busy finding something else to do.
“Fine. You can’t help it.”
She picked up the map Jake had left behind and unfolded it on the bench beside her, smoothing the creases. Jake had marked each of the locations where a device had been located, but they were still on the hunt.
Cassidy was afraid the tormentor may have thrown out any plan they’d originally had when she hadn’t played by the rules, but there must have been one at the start. They’d taken a gamble in giving the bag to Darien to start but, given the tone of the messages sent, they’d seen it as a calculated risk. They’d assumed—correctly—she would step between the boy and danger.
But why scatter bombs around the fairgrounds to start? Simply intent on causing as much mayhem as possible? Was it a mind game? Most likely both, she decided.
The teams had been lucky so far. Despite the sheer number of explosions, only minor injuries had been sustained. And Cassidy wanted to keep it that way.
The sound of a helicopter approaching made her heart drop into the depths of her belly. She knew any daydreams she might have entertained as far as keeping this confrontation under wraps was shot. The fairgrounds were surrounded by residential neighborhoods. Even at midday during the work week, someone had undoubtedly heard the blasts and called the police. Local law enforcement was already on the scene, of course, but the neighbors didn’t know what was happening.
Bud and the rest of her security team had done their best to dodge the questions of the reporters on site at the time of the initial threat, but now… It was only natural for the public to turn to the media for answers. She purposefully avoided thinking about social media. It was beast no one could contain.
Still, she was hopeful. If they could get through this and find out who exactly was responsible, they might be able to get the grounds in good enough condition to open the fair to the public.
But they had to get through it first.
In one piece.
Maybe if she could find the pattern, they could locate the rest of the devices before things got any more out of hand.
Staring down at the map, she let her vision go blurry. Then she blinked it into focus. The second time she did this, she thought maybe she’d spotted a possible pattern.
Without taking her eyes off the map, she grappled for the pen tucked into the crease of the bench. Drawing lightly, so as not to mark up the document too much, she started sketching a loose arc connecting the north gate to the buildings lining the outer perimeter of the fairgrounds proper. When she completed the circle, she was gratified to see it encompassed many of the bomb sites already identified.
