“Jake, I’m not feeling anything near rational at this moment.”
He wanted to push back. He wanted to insist she speak her mind here and now so they might figure out what had happened way back then. But Cassidy was right. They had more pressing matters to attend to than a teen romance mired in ancient history.
Without another word, he stood, Max’s lead gripped tight in his hand. Max, perceptive boy he was, darted one last worried glance in Cass’s direction. Jake could only wonder about what his partner might have seen there, because he would not allow himself to look back.
He and Max hopped down, found their balance on solid ground again, then started up the incline to the fair’s main artery. Jake clenched his back teeth, keeping his jaw taut and his eyes moving, taking in everything that lay ahead of them and refusing to indulge in a single backward glance.
The best thing he could do for Cassidy was find a way to put an end to this madness. And then, once they had Baker or whoever was doing this to her in custody and Cass off that nightmare of a ride…then they would talk it out.
But at the moment, his mind felt cluttered and his emotions chaotic. Cassidy was right; they needed to set their past aside and concentrate on the task at hand. They were closing in on five o’clock and none of the signs they’d found so far were set to the hour. Aronson had put out a call for all available officers to be on the lookout for any indication of where their bomber would strike next.
He needed to stop focusing on why Baker was targeting Cass and figure out a way to get her out of the crosshairs.
True to his word, he headed for the children’s rides.
Because the fair was a popular family activity, Kiddie Land made up a decent portion of the midway attractions. Small-scale rides and games where smaller patrons could win small trinkets and stuffed toys. Jake and Max crossed under a colorfully painted archway and made their way to a miniature carousel that featured shiny motorcycles and sidecars.
Hanging back, he gave Max enough lead to move from one shiny cycle to another. While his partner did this thing, Jake turned in a slow circle, taking in his surroundings and searching for any Be Back Soon signs. There wasn’t one posted near the operator’s stand. He flexed the fingers of his free hand as he swiveled in the opposite direction. If he hadn’t been so attuned to the particular shade of sky blue used for the background on the yardstick, he might have missed it. He was smirking at the cutout of a llama warning all riders to wait until the ride came to a complete stop, remembering all the times he’d hopped onto and off a moving carousel in the past few hours.
The warning seemed ridiculous. The kids who were small enough to enjoy these rides were likely too young to read, impervious to safety warnings and accompanied by a parent who wouldn’t think twice about jumping off if their kid didn’t like the ride. He was about to turn away when he spotted it.
It was thumbtacked to the llama’s rear like someone’s funny idea of a pin-the-tail game. Jake took a step closer, squinting to be certain he was processing what he saw correctly.
The clock hands were both directed at the twelve. If their theory held true, any explosive on the ride would have already detonated, or wouldn’t for hours. He scanned the area again, taking in all the other rides and booths they needed to search, and huffed out a sigh. Clicking his tongue to signal Max, he pushed the button to take up the slack in the retractable leash.
The shepherd turned to him, looking mildly annoyed to have his inspection interrupted.
“Not here.” When the dog hesitated, he gave his fingers a snap. Max countered with an impatient whine, Jake rolled his eyes, taking note there were only two more mini motorbikes to be checked out. “Fine. But make it quick.”
Figuring they could cover the area faster, Jake released the breakaway on Max’s lead as they approached the hot-air balloon ride. “No funny business at the petting zoo,” he warned his partner.
Max bounded through the aluminum fencing and went straight to the base of the ride. He watched as Max moved under the arms holding each basket-shaped gondola two feet off the ground. Satisfied his partner was focused on his due diligence, Jake circled the ride, checking for the familiar clock signs. This one was tacked to the front of the operator’s control panel with a magnet.
Also set to twelve o’clock.
Jake skipped ahead to a similar setup featuring brightly colored propeller planes. Same sign, same time. He spotted Max trotting across the cable-strewn lane between rides. The fairgrounds were oddly quiet. Sure, every once in a while, a helicopter swooped overhead. And there were more than the usual number of blaring horns up on Roosevelt Road. But the teams were quiet. Only the occasional chirp of radio static cracked the silence on the channel to break the monotony.
The search was on in earnest.
Jake had no doubt his fellow officers were as sick of this game as he and Cass were. They’d been at it all afternoon, and the sense they were looking for what could be a needle-size bit of plastic explosive in a carnival-colored haystack was not lost on anyone.
By the time he approached the twirling apple ride, his dog was giving a bench near a miniature roller coaster with cars painted to look like the segments of a caterpillar a thorough sniff. Jake made a mental note to check the signs posted near each of those rides on their way back to the center of the action.
He and Max made it all the way through the toddler rides and were working through the line of less-challenging arcade games when a crackle of static undercut the song Jake had been whistling tunelessly.
“Ten minutes until five. Fall back,” Aronson ordered.
Jake turned away from the last two booths, muttering as he reattached Max’s leash. “We’re getting forty minutes out of every hour. Less, with informational meetings.”
“You’d have more time to work if you spent less time ‘checking’ on Ms. Walker,” Colonel Aronson chastised. “And move your mic lower on your vest and turn your radio up. You keep unintentionally keying in.”
Heat rose in Jake’s cheeks. “Ten-four. Sorry, sir. Didn’t realize it was me.”
Aronson’s response was brusque. “Come up here. I want to run something past you.”
Jake yanked the radio clip from his vest and glared at it as if it had purposefully set out to make him look the fool. But as he reattached it to one of the loops, he looked down and found his partner staring up at him.
The dog’s sympathy was more than he could stand.
