Chapter 1
Excitement and anticipation buzzed through Jazz Lamont's veins, taking her back to when she was eight years old, and she believed dreams could come true.
Jazz couldn't help it. The first day of the Tri-City Fair was always full of hope, the promise of fun times and reliving memories, and—she inhaled deeply—the mouthwatering aroma of fried foods.
So what if she was an adult, part of the fair's security detail this year, instead of a kid hanging with her best friend for the greatest time of their lives? She was still determined to enjoy the fair as much as she always had.
"Help! Stop him!"
Jazz jerked toward the woman's shouts as Flash growled.
She let the Belgian Malinois tug on the leash to hurry them toward the source of the yells. Jazz stretched her neck to see above the moving people on the midway. Good thing it was early in the morning and not very crowded yet.
"Stop him!" A middle-aged woman flailed her arms as she pushed through people like she was trying to follow someone.
Jazz darted her gaze ahead of the woman.
Fast movement caught her eye. Someone running.
A slim male darted through the crowd, something in his hand.
Purse snatcher.
Jazz took off, Flash easily kicking into gear beside her.
"Out of the way!" She barked the order as she tried to run around the people congesting the paved path. No use. She'd never catch him this way.
She dropped Flash's leash. "Flash, halt schnell."
The Malinois took off like a bullet, darting through pedestrians and vanishing from sight.
Jazz picked up her pace as much as she could, navigating the crowd as she strained to see Flash. Didn't really matter if she had eyes on him. He'd get the job done.
She pushed past a group of visitors, reaching a clear space she could sprint through. Until a group of teens slowed her down.
Then she spotted him.
Flash stood on top of his fallen target, paws on the purse snatcher's back as the guy sprawled on the blacktop.
Jazz slowed her pace and grinned at the magnificent dog, standing so tall and proud on his quarry.
A small cluster of bystanders gathered to stare. And record everything on video with their phones.
Good thing she hadn't had Flash bite the guy, or there'd no doubt be some objections.
"Good boy, Flash." Jazz tossed him a treat as she stopped beside the perp. "Pass auf."
Flash gulped his treat and dashed off the perp's back to get into guard position as she'd commanded. He swung back to face the thief, feet planted as he stared, ready for any wrong move.
"You can get up now." Jazz looked down at the brown-haired guy who twisted his head toward her. "But I wouldn't try to run. I might have to tell my K-9 to use more force next time."
The perp, probably about eighteen, slowly planted his hands on the pavement and pushed himself up. He swiped a long patch of brown hair out of his eyes. Eyes that widened as he stared at Flash.
"Hands behind your back."
"What for?"
"Don't think that purse belongs to you." Jazz shot a pointed glance at the beige purse the thief had left lying on the ground.
She activated her coms earpiece. "Base, this is PT3. I've caught a purse snatcher in Sector Two, near Judy's Sweets and Treats. Respond an officer to this location."
The three police officers on loan to the fair during daytime hours meant she shouldn't have to wait long for one to show up.
"Officer 1 to Base." Jazz recognized the voice of Officer Davis Leeland. The guy had already had a busy morning. "Will respond. ETA two minutes."
The perp shoved his hair back off his sweaty forehead again and moved his gaze away from Flash, scanning the surroundings. Not good.
"Don't even think it, pal. My K-9 can run circles around you." Jazz stepped closer to the perp and gripped his slim arm. "Did I mention he's a tracker, too?" She could zip tie the thief's wrists, but she'd rather let a cop with cuffs do the honors. Better to keep the bystanders from getting rankled in defense of the criminal.
"You caught him." The breathless statement drew Jazz's gaze to the heavyset woman who approached, her chest heaving beneath the low neckline of her tank top.
"Yes, ma'am. Take it easy." Jazz held up a hand toward the victim to discourage her from acting on the anger that flashed in the eyes behind her glasses. "It's a hot day." And the woman looked like she could drop from heatstroke at any moment.
"I want him arrested." She pointed a finger at the teen past Jazz's shoulder.
"Yes, ma'am. He will be." Jazz glanced at the bag on the ground. "Is that your purse?"
"It most certainly is." The woman huffed as she stomped over to her discarded purse and started picking up the contents that had spilled onto the blacktop.
"Is anything missing?"
The victim's face was bright red as she stood and marched toward Jazz with the recovered property. "Well, my wallet's still there, but everything's filthy now, thanks to this criminal." She moved close to the kid, lifting a fisted hand.
Jazz shifted to block the woman with her body. "I need you to back up, please."
"Why should I?" The victim's sweaty face pressed close to Jazz's shoulder. "He thinks he can rob innocent people without any consequences."
"Ma'am, please step over here." Officer Leeland appeared behind the woman in his police uniform, shooting Jazz a commiserating glance.
The irate woman swung toward him. "The police. Good. I want to file a complaint or whatever I need to do so this thief is arrested."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll get your statement after I secure the suspect. If you'll head for the main entrance to the grounds, you'll see the Public Safety Center. Go inside and have a seat until I get there." The fifty-something cop guided her with a hand close to her shoulder, not touching her as she walked with him six feet away. He said something to her that Jazz couldn't hear, and the woman left, hopefully agreeing to do as he'd directed.
Leeland headed back to Jazz. "Lamont, right?"
She nodded.
"Good work." He stepped behind the suspect and cuffed his wrists.
"My K-9 gets the credit for this one. Chased him down when the crowd blocked my way."
Leeland cast Flash a glance, the K-9 still in his ready stance, intensity shining in his eyes. "Duly noted."
"Flash, in ordnung." Jazz put her hand on the Malinois' smooth head as he relaxed his stance with her release command. She stooped to pick up his leash and watched the stocky officer lead the perp away.
"Well, back to patrol, bud." She turned to continue the patrol pattern that had been interrupted by the theft. "Nothing like a little excitement to start the day, huh, boy?" She glanced down at the K-9.
His mouth was open unusually wide, and his tongue extended out farther than normal. "On second thought, maybe a water break is in order." Flash had gotten used to intense heat during their tour in Afghanistan, but the cooler climate of Minnesota was probably undoing that. And the dog had just sprinted in the sun in humid, eighty-degree weather.
She headed for umbrella-shaded tables near the Zilly's fried cookie dough stand, reaching for the strap of her slim backpack where she kept his water thermos.
She glanced down at Flash. "Maybe I'll grab—"
A scream rent the air.
She spun toward the sound.
Just in time to see a Ferris wheel passenger cabin freefall.
"Coming through!" Hawthorne Emerson barreled through the crowd to reach the Ferris wheel.
Screams and shouts fell from the cabins of the giant wheel like an echo of the cabin that had crashed to the earth two seconds before. Had anyone been inside?
Please, God, let no one be badly injured. Somehow.
He hadn't noticed a long line for the wheel when he'd passed by ten minutes ago. Maybe it was early enough in the morning that some cabins were empty.
He broke through the bystanders gathering along the fence that bracketed the waiting line for the ride. Thanks to his security guard clearance, he didn't have to weave through the maze to reach the wheel.
He unlatched the gated shortcut and dashed through, sprinting for the downed cabin.
The enclosed capsule lay on the pavement beneath the ride, not quite as cylindrical as it had been a moment ago. The lower half had smashed into the blacktop, bits of glass and metal pieces spread around the carcass like confetti.
Were any human bodies inside it?
He reached the door, now aimed toward heaven, and peered through the cracked window.
Couldn't see anyone.
He yanked on the door.
The safety latch must still be in place. He flipped the latch and swung the door open.
"Is there anybody in there?" An anxious voice behind him drew Hawthorne's gaze.
A young man, probably early twenties, watched from a few feet away. His name badge and terrified expression identified him as the ride operator.
Hawthorne stuck his head into the cabin to verify what he hoped was true.
It was empty.
"Thank you, Lord." He breathed the prayer as he backed out and swung toward the operator. He pressed the button on his coms. "This is S4, I'm at scene. No casualties or injuries. The cabin was empty." He glanced at the ride operator as one of the security dispatchers acknowledged his transmission.
The young guy stared at the crushed cabin without moving.
"Go back to the controls. We have to get the remaining people off."
The operator's gaze slowly drifted toward Hawthorne. "Okay."
Movement by the secured access gate caught Hawthorne's eye.
A tall woman with a leashed K-9 walked toward him at a quick clip. She seemed to scan him as she approached. Probably checking to make sure he should be there, similar to what he was doing with her.
She wore a gun holstered on her hip and a black T-shirt that had the word, Security, printed on the front. Her dog's vest was labeled PK-9 Security. He'd met a team from the Phoenix K-9 Security and Detection Agency when he'd come on duty that morning. A shorter lady with a German shepherd. He assumed the back of this agent's T-shirt would also read, Phoenix K-9.
"Any victims?" The woman stopped a few feet away, her attention skipping past Hawthorne toward the fallen cabin.
"None. It was empty."
She gave him another long look, then nodded and glanced up at the Ferris wheel. "Let's get these people down before another one drops."
"You want me to do it?" The operator's voice nearly squeaked as he stared at the new arrival.
Hawthorne considered pointing out the kid was the only one there at the moment who knew how to operate the ride, but the K-9 agent beat him to responding.
"That would be best, yes." Was that a twitch at the corners of the woman's mouth? Amusement?
"But slowly." Hawthorne added the direction as he followed the operator to the controls. With how nervous the kid seemed, he might spin the wheel fast enough to produce more casualties.
"Yeah. These people have been scared enough for one day." The woman stepped to the other side of the operator and gave Hawthorne a quirked smile that definitely communicated humor.
A woman who was cool and calm in the face of disaster. Didn't encounter that every day.
As if to prove her point, raised voices cut through the air above them. The passengers were probably more than a little frightened and eager to get off.
Hawthorne glanced at the operator's nametag. "Go ahead and bring them down, Kenny. A little slower than you usually would at the end of the ride."
The kid nodded, moistening his lips with his tongue as he put the ride in gear.
Hawthorne glanced at the attractive woman as the cabins started to lower.
She watched the action with a confident gaze, her thick red ponytail tilting with her head. Slim and fit with curves in the right places, she was taller than most women. Probably about five nine in her flat sneakers. On her left thigh, the side he could see now, a black leather sheath rested against her jeans. Was she packing a knife?
The ride stopped, drawing Hawthorne's attention to the middle-aged couple and young girl Kenny let out.
They clung to each other as they hurried from the cabin as if they couldn't get away from the ride fast enough.
A muffled yell came from above.
Hawthorne peered up into the bright sunlight. Hard to tell which cabin.
More shouts. Sounded like a male voice. Getting louder. Panicked.
The ride started to move again.
"Hold it, Kenny." The redhead echoed the thought Hawthorne had been about to voice.
The operator paused the wheel.
A smacking sound broke the air. The door of a cabin near the top of the wheel flung open.
"Help! Get us down!" A head stuck out the opening along with the man's hysterical shout.
A woman shrieked.
The man's leg protruded from the cabin. Then his whole body.
Was the guy crazy?
"No!" A woman yelled from inside the cabin.
"He's trying to climb down." The redhead's voice lifted with disbelief.
Hawthorne couldn't tear his gaze away from the man above. "Kenny, do not move the wheel, whatever you do."
The young guy didn't answer, so Hawthorne threw him a glance.
Kenny stared up at the panicking passenger with his mouth hanging open. At least his hand wasn't anywhere near the controls.
Hawthorne jerked his attention back to the man above.
He seemed to be trying to navigate directly down to the next cabin along the rim. There weren't many handholds there. He'd have a better shot climbing onto the spokes that were doubled on this Ferris wheel with X-shaped support beams between them.
"Fool's going to get himself killed." A new female voice pulled Hawthorne's attention to the petite Phoenix K-9 agent he'd met earlier and her German shepherd on leash.
The redhead gave the new arrival a quick glance. "Yeah, not—"
A scream cut her short and yanked Hawthorne's gaze back up the wheel.
The man lost his grip. And fell.
Hawthorne's breath stopped.
The guy landed hard on the support beams between the spokes below.
"Base, this is PT3." The redhead spoke into coms, her tone steady. "A passenger tried to climb down the Ferris wheel and fell. He's still on the wheel. Appears to be unconscious. Call a rescue squad."
Hawthorne stared at the man. He hadn't moved. The Phoenix K-9 agent was probably right. And it could be a good thing if he was out. At least he wouldn't panic and do something additionally foolish.
But he could wake up at any moment. And fall to his death, if he wasn't already terminally injured.
They couldn't wait for the rescue squad.
"I'm going up."
"What?" Both women said the word at virtually the same time. They stared at Hawthorne but didn't actually look like they thought he was crazy. More like they doubted his ability to do it.
"Can you free-climb?" The redhead's expression was intense, her eyebrows lowered.
The rational question took him by surprise. He'd expected her to protest or try to stop him.
"I do it all the time." Normally on rocks or climbing walls, but a Ferris wheel shouldn't be much more challenging. He hoped.
"You know that's fifteen stories up?" The agent with the shepherd appeared to be assessing him with her dark eyes.
He chuckled. "Yeah, I've heard."
"I'll call for some rope so we can lower him down."
He gave the redhead a nod. "Good idea." He turned and walked past the controls toward the base of the wheel, eyeing the best place to begin the climb. At least he'd worn his broken-in tennis shoes today. Should be fairly flexible with a bit of grip.
He scanned the massive base of the wheel. Not the best handholds there. He glanced back toward the cabin that had just been vacated in the loading dock. That should be easier.
He went to the enclosed pod and clambered up to stand on top of it. No sweat.
From the roof of the cabin, he reached for the X-shaped beams that crisscrossed between the vertical spokes. Gripping the middle of the X, he found footholds where the beams connected with the spokes.
He pulled himself up, switching out his handhold to put his foot in the middle of the X as he climbed. He continued the same pattern, sweat moistening his forehead with the effort. The holds were pretty good.
He looked up beyond the next beams. Might as well keep climbing vertically until he reached the center of the wheel.
The passenger had fallen onto the support beams and spokes that were locked horizontally at the moment. So long as Kenny didn't bump any controls.
Hawthorne grimaced at the thought as he pushed on. By the time he reached the center of the wheel, sweat dampened his skin under his blue security uniform T-shirt.
Thanks to the interconnecting spokes and beams at the center, it wasn't hard to climb from there out onto the horizontal spokes.
He stayed in the prone position, essentially crawling as he carefully gripped the crisscrossed beams between the spokes with his hands and wedged his feet in the corners to be sure he didn't slip through. The parallel spokes were much farther apart up here than they'd appeared from the ground. Too widely placed for him to grip them instead.
He looked up from his holds as he neared the fallen passenger.
The man didn't move. Was he alive?
Hawthorne picked up his speed to close the distance between them.
"Sir?" Hawthorne braced his knee against the beams, ignoring the discomfort of the metal digging into his bone as he let go with one hand to reach for the unmoving passenger.
He pressed his fingers to the guy's clammy neck, feeling for a pulse.
Soft beats thumped against his fingers.
Thank the Lord.
Hawthorne leaned forward to get a better look at the man's head where it had slammed against the spoke.
Blood oozed onto the steel from an apparent wound. Not good. Was it still actively bleeding?
Hawthorne mentally cycled through the First Aid course he'd received years ago in basic training.
He should apply pressure, but with a clean cloth. Given how sweaty his clothes were by this point, a torn scrap from either his shirt or pants wouldn't suffice. Maybe he should wait for the rescue squad to try it.
Hawthorne glanced down below.
Wow. Way below. Glad he hadn't looked down earlier. And he was especially glad heights didn't bother him.
Wait a second…
Something moved, but not on the ground. On the Ferris wheel.
A person in a black T-shirt climbed up the spokes and beams exactly as he had done. Was that the redhead?
Sure enough, a dark ponytail swung as she shifted her body toward a spoke.
A strange feeling stirred in his chest as he watched her. She moved quickly—faster than he had climbed, actually. Her movements were fluid and strong. No hesitation or caution. Only athleticism and skill, not missing a hold in her almost rhythmic climb.
She disappeared under the cluster of connecting beams at the center. But only for a moment.
Then her head appeared above the horizontal spokes where he waited with the injured man.
She sprang onto the beams and crawled toward him nearly as fast as the monkeys he used to watch at the zoo where he had volunteered. Coiled rope hung from her shoulder and angled across her shirt.
"How is he?" She didn't even sound out of breath as she came up beside Hawthorne, close to the passenger's head.
Hawthorne turned toward the injured man. Probably should've been watching him instead of the remarkable woman who'd just free-climbed halfway up a 156-foot Ferris wheel without breaking a sweat.
He rechecked the man's pulse. "Pulse is steady but weakening a little."
The redhead crawled closer and pushed up to sitting, balancing on the middle of the crossbeams' X with her feet braced on the two beams where they angled away. She aimed big eyes at him. "The rescue squad is on the way. ETA ten minutes. But one of the onsite nurses is waiting below. If we can get him down, she can start treating him."
The woman was fascinating. With only a few feet between them, there was no missing she was even more beautiful than he'd first thought. And she wasn't slathered in makeup like so many women her age who wanted to be attractive.
Her smooth, creamy skin was sun-kissed to perfection, and the rays glinted off her shiny red hair. Her full lips didn't need more than the gloss he guessed she wore. But her eyes were her most stunning feature. A brilliant emerald green that made him rethink his statement that he'd never seen a green as intense as the color of the fields in Ireland.
The woman had beauty, brains, courage, and toted a gun and knife he was sure she knew how to use. It couldn't get any better than that.
"I'll get on his left side here. You can go on his right, and I'll pass the rope under him to you." Her directions brought him out of his observations to see she was hefting the coiled rope off her shoulder and over her head.
Occupational hazard to get lost in observations and imagination. But he couldn't help it this time. He'd been searching for weeks for the right idea for his next book series. And now, she was staring him in the face.
"What's your name?"
"Excuse me?" She shot him a glance with raised eyebrows as she unwound one end of the rope.
"Sorry." He scrambled for an excuse for the oddly timed question. An excuse that would also get her to answer. "I just want to know what name to yell if I'm about to fall."
His joke earned a charming laugh that sounded like she was hitting the notes of a musical scale.
She bent over the passenger to slide the rope under his back. "Jazz Lamont."
Jazz. Even her name was perfect. Though she'd probably never agree to let him use that in print, too. But either way, he'd just met the heroine of his next bestselling thriller novels.
A groan screeched his excitement to a halt.
The injured man's hand moved as he moaned.
He was waking up.