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It wasn’t funny enough.

Troy saw me and grimaced.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you too.”

“You should have stayed where you were assigned, especially after Justin corrected you.”

“I know.”

There was no point making him say it again.

O’Shea took Troy a few steps away to finish the conversation. I checked the performer roster and reassigned a late arrival who had been put in the wrong rotation.

Work remained beautifully indifferent to murder suspects.

By the time I reached the entrance again, the first public crowd had begun gathering behind the barriers. Steam rose from cups of cider. Children darted between adults carrying pumpkins. The low sun had already disappeared behind the tree line, leaving the farm washed in the colder blue light that came before true evening.

My radio clicked.

“South queue ready.”

Another call followed.

“Bypass staffed.”

I answered both, then looked at Damien.

“Front gate, production, bypass, two adjacent sets. Same route we marked.”

He nodded. “You lead.”

The words should not have affected me as much as they did.

Friday, I had spent half the shift trying to convince him that following me was not the same thing as letting me do my job.

Saturday, he fell into step beside me without trying to redraw the map.

We checked the guest entry together.

At the bypass, I watched three test groups move through with staff instead of visitors, making sure the turn remained readable under operating light. Damien stood far enough back to leave the lane clear while keeping me in sight. When I changed one employee’s position by a few feet to keep people from clustering near a barrier, he moved with me without asking why.

The closed figure structure remained dark and inaccessible.

The sealed final room stayed beyond the live route.

Nothing else moved where it did not belong.

That should have calmed me.

Instead, every ordinary thing felt slightly sharper because I knew Grant had been here Thursday after telling O’Shea he had not.

At the front gate, I paused long enough to text a copy of last year’s plan to the sheriff’s secure number, then put my phone away.

Damien watched the crowd beyond the barrier.

“Do you want to leave?”

The question surprised me enough that I looked at him.