Chapter 26

Jazz had never been so uptight on a patrol in her life. Terrorists hidden in the desert wilderness had nothing on Phoenix Gray.

The boss and her equally silent K-9 Dag had accompanied Flash and Jazz since nine thirty. Meaning Jazz had survived two hours so far with only her and Phoenix. Two hours for the boss to observe how Jazz did patrol. And probably note everything she thought Jazz was doing wrong.

But the boss hadn't said anything critical yet. She'd said almost nothing at all. Not even when Jazz had shown her the sites of the sabotage.

At the Skyride, Phoenix had only asked if Jazz had seen which portion of the exploded pod was left and how much of her uncle's pod had been damaged.

She hadn't remarked on anything. Hadn't given Jazz a clue to what she was thinking.

But Jazz was sure she was thinking. A lot. She just didn't like Jazz well enough to tell her anything.

That made two of them. Jazz didn't trust Phoenix either.

So they walked the fairgrounds in silence for most of the time.

Jazz checked her watch as they took the curve of the main path that led to another section of rides.

Flash's panting sounded loudly next to Jazz, thanks to the absence of the usual fair noises.

The music from the rides had ended about thirty minutes ago when the operators started closing them down for the night.

The attendees of the country music concert had left around that time, as well. They should all be out by now, though they wouldn't have been in this sector of the grounds anyway.

Dag kept his mouth closed at Phoenix's side. Probably not allowed to pant like normal dogs or he'd ruin the mystery.

Jazz stifled a chuckle at her own joke. She kept her gaze moving at the same time, not about to be caught slacking by the boss.

Phoenix set a steady pace, slightly quicker than Jazz's usual patrol speed but not too fast. The woman's posture had stayed confident and strong, not showing a moment of tiring after two hours of walking.

Jazz had expected nothing less. She couldn't deny Phoenix was in perfect physical shape. Toned and slim without an ounce of weakness or softness aside from her feminine curves. Jazz had wondered more than once what Phoenix did for workouts. But she wasn't about to ask a personal question of the boss.

She could ask the question that had been burning on her tongue all night. The boss wouldn't object to her wanting to know information that could help their investigation, would she?

Jazz took a breath and risked it. "Did Cora find anything on Sam Ackerman's father?"

Phoenix didn't so much as glance her way or pause her movement, clearly not as startled as Jazz was that she'd initiated conversation. "Gary Ackerman. Fifty-one. Caucasian, brown on brown. Location unknown."

"She can't find him?" Surprise lifted Jazz's voice. Cora could usually find people within hours.

"Not yet." Phoenix seemed to increase the pace as she talked, still not looking at Jazz, her head slowly rotating side to side as she scanned the surroundings. "He ended a lease on an apartment in Wisconsin three months ago. The last use of his credit card. No trail since."

"Oh. Too bad."

"We'll find him." Phoenix's trademark confidence. Nothing seemed to shake her certainty about everything. An admirable quality if it wasn't so unnerving. And suspicious. As if she'd figured out a way to rig life. To cheat it.

"Cora learned Desmond Patch has a criminal history."

Jazz cut Phoenix a look to see if she'd been reading Jazz's mind.

The boss kept her gaze moving, checking for threats without a pause or indication of anything amiss. "He was arrested for vandalism as a college student during a protest rally. He was an active member of the Students for the Environment Society."

The radical environmental group that had spawned the Twin Cities river dam bomber that Bristol and PK-9 had caught before Jazz joined the agency. Yikes. "So he's probably not a peaceful pacifist like he claims." Which would totally fit what Hawthorne had told Jazz about the cult leader.

"He's a viable suspect for the sabotage and your aunt's death. He's taken credit for violence in the past, when he felt it was for a worthy cause."

Jazz would need to tell Hawthorne as soon as she could. They'd bumped into him earlier on patrol, but their conversation had been brief. Jazz didn't blame him for not wanting to stick around with Phoenix eyeing him in her intimidating way from under the bill of her charcoal cap.

A rumble interrupted her thoughts. Dag.

Flash almost instantly added his own growl.

Jazz peered in the direction of their gazes.

A tree and grass.

Phoenix picked up her pace, her attention locked somewhere ahead and to the right.

The Logboat Adventure ride was around that corner.

Jazz lengthened her stride to keep up.

They rounded the corner where the tree had blocked their view.

A shadow moved in a doorway. The staff entrance of the Logboat ride.

"Hold it." Phoenix's cold voice would've stopped Jazz in her tracks. Especially accompanied as it was by two K-9s' warning growls. "Step out, slowly. Hands where I can see them."

The shadowy figure shifted, coming into the light cast from the lampposts along the main path.

"Freddie?" The word popped from Jazz's mouth as the food vendor stepped into view, his hands lifted in front of him.

"Fred Blain." How Phoenix knew who he was, Jazz couldn't guess. But like Nevaeh always said, the boss seemed to know everything. "Step over here." Phoenix angled her head toward the main path as she kept her hand on her hip. Close to her holstered Glock.

Freddie's eyes were wide as he stared at Phoenix and slowly followed the narrow offshoot that led away from the staff entrance. He stopped on the main path, about six feet from the women and their K-9s.

"Are you carrying any weapons?"

"Weapons?" Genuine shock overtook his features at Phoenix's question. "Oh, my goodness. No. I don't own any weapons." He started lowering his hands, probably involuntarily. Poor guy looked scared to death.

He'd been so friendly with Hawthorne and Jazz. She knew anyone could be guilty of anything, but it didn't seem likely Freddie was violent or the killer she and Hawthorne were looking for. "What were you doing here, Freddie?"

His gaze jerked to her face as his hands lowered completely. "Molly visited Christy here tonight, and she thought she dropped her reading glasses somewhere on the path."

"From the staff entrance?"

He nodded. "She and Christy left together that way at closing."

Jazz fought to keep from narrowing her eyes at him. Better to keep an open and non-judgmental expression. Especially to compensate for Phoenix's stony silence. "It's well past closing now, Freddie. Why are you still here?"

"One of the kids royally messed up the count for the night, so I had to redo it twice myself. But I'd promised Molly I would look for her glasses before I left. She said she had to get home to watch Murder She Wrote."

Sounded exactly like Molly. Jazz glanced at Phoenix. Would the boss think it was a false alarm, too?

"You're free to go." Phoenix's deep voice projected command through her sheer lack of emotion. "Be sure you leave the grounds immediately."

"Of course." Freddie glanced at the boss with widened eyes as he turned and hurried off in the right direction to reach the fair's main entrance. Poor guy probably wouldn't sleep a wink tonight.

"Not sure you had to spook him so much." Jazz wanted to snap the criticism back as soon as it escaped her mouth. Irritation must've given her the courage. To be stupid. Phoenix could fire her in a second.

The cap turned in Jazz's direction, bringing the stare that was probably impossible to read if Jazz could see it in the shadow the bill cast over the woman's eyes. She suddenly flicked on a flashlight Jazz didn't know she had and shined the blinding beam on the closed staff access door. "Do you know where he was?"

"The Logboat Adventure ride." Don't tell her Phoenix thought Jazz didn't know her way around the fair.

"Where Sam Ackerman's body was found."

"You okay?" Hawthorne glanced at Jazz as he walked with her out the main entrance of the fair at the end of their shift. He gave Barry a wave over his shoulder as the guard swung the gate closed behind them, then returned his attention to the redheaded beauty.

She was awfully quiet tonight. Not full of her usual spunk and smiles. "I guess I should've asked you for more details about Sam's death. I didn't realize he was found at the Logboat Adventure until Phoenix told me. I don't even know how she knew." Jazz muttered the last words as if to herself.

"Yeah, sorry. I guess everything's been going so fast, I didn't share all the information with you. He was found there, but Rebekah and Sam's dad don't think he died there. They think he was killed somewhere else and moved."

Jazz turned her big eyes on him, and something thumped in his chest.

Couldn't be his heart. He wasn't emotionally involved with Jazz. He couldn't be.

"What do you think?"

He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. "I was skeptical at first. I know how strong the desire is for people to make sense of their loved one's death. But there is the fact that Sam was so afraid of water he'd refuse to even take baths."

"Oh." Her eyebrows rose as she stopped on the sidewalk outside the fairgrounds, turning to face him. "That does make it unlikely he'd be on that ride."

"Autopsy showed he was intoxicated, so that might've overcome his fears. That was the detectives' theory at the time."

"But you don't buy it." She was starting to read him well. Or maybe it was that intelligence he'd admired in her from the beginning.

"Well, the ride operator that was on that night showed me her closing routine. She does a thorough inspection of the entire interior of the ride. I don't think she'd have missed Sam's body lying there."

Jazz glanced down at Flash who sat next to her leg, looking a little weary from his long shift. "So that would back up the theory he was killed elsewhere, then moved after the ride was closed."

"Exactly."

"Who could do that? Are you saying someone with staff access would've had to do it? Someone who works at the fair?" The way Jazz's features contorted showed how horrifying she found the idea. Of course, she would. The fair was like her home.

"Could be. But I think it's just as possible that someone else could've found a way to hide and wait for the ride operator to leave before putting Sam in there."

"But how could someone else get in?"

Hawthorne lifted his shoulders. "Picked the lock? I don't think the police had reason to check for that. Or tried different rides until they found one that had been left unlocked by accident. If Sam was killed, it doesn't seem like a very well-planned crime. More like an unplanned murder that made the killer have to punt the best he or she could."

"So you think any visitor could've done it." She pressed her lips together. "Or a vendor."

Hawthorne nodded. "I was sorry to hear about Freddie, too. He's a nice guy. Or at least he seems to be."

"Yeah. He's new this year, so I suppose I shouldn't feel so disloyal for suspecting him. I think it's because Molly's taken such a liking to him. And he reminds me a lot of his cousin Jim who used to come with the food stand. He was a great guy. Always nice to me and Nevaeh." She glanced toward the parking lot. "I guess I'd better get going, or Nev will wonder what happened to me."

"The two of you share your apartment?"

"No." She turned away from him with the hasty reply. "I'm staying at her house just for…fun." Jazz stepped off the sidewalk onto the blacktop.

"I'll walk you to your car." He fell in step beside her, Flash on her other side.

Jazz shot him a glance, her eyebrow quirked.

"Though I know you absolutely do not need my protection."

She smiled at him and moved a bit closer, letting her arm brush against his. "Doesn't mean I don't want it."

His pulse picked up speed as heat flared in his belly. A natural reaction of any red-blooded male. Didn't mean he was losing control of his emotions. Or that he had to act on any of the attraction he had to admit he felt for this woman. Like when she'd surprised him by putting her arm around his waist and taking his hand at the commune.

He should've pulled away instantly. But he'd had to keep their cover, which he knew was the only reason she'd initiated the touches anyway. Trouble was, the longer he'd kept the connection with her, the more he had started to like it. Way too much.

Kind of like now. It felt pretty good—almost natural—to walk her to her car.

Good grief. He could throttle himself for the romantic sentiments. He didn't even like to include romance in his novels, let alone his personal life. It was after midnight, and he was clearly feeling the effects of fatigue. He needed to wrap this up.

"Do you think Freddie was up to something, being by the Logboat ride?" Jazz was apparently doing a better job focusing on something other than their proximity.

Hawthorne cleared the thickness out of his throat. "I don't really know. It is strange. From what I've seen, the vendors usually close as quickly as they can at eleven and head straight out."

"But his excuse could've been legit." Hopefulness laced her tone.

"True. And, honestly, I'm not sure what he could've been doing related to Sam at the Logboat Adventure. It's two years too late to tamper with any evidence. But sabotage? That's a real possibility."

"Phoenix seemed to think it could be related to Sam's death." Jazz turned into the row where her SUV must be parked. "Though I'm not sure how. She just told me it was where Sam was found. Like it was important." Jazz cast him a glance. "She never really explains any of her riddles."

"Not too surprising. She seems very…" Hawthorne should be able to find the perfect word to describe Phoenix Gray, given he used words for his profession. But Jazz's boss somehow evaded his search for the perfect descriptor. "Enigmatic." Best he could do for someone he couldn't figure out, let alone describe. At least not from a first meeting.

Jazz's musical laugh floated in the cool night air. "That's perfect. Most people say ‘intense' or ‘intimidating' after they first meet her."

He nodded. "Those work, too." He gave her a smile as they slowed by the rear bumper of Jazz's SUV. "I assume she must be more relaxed around the agency with people she knows."

"Nope."

"Oh?" Intriguing. His writer's imagination started to percolate.

"You're curious about her, aren't you?"

He pushed his hands into his pants pockets and shrugged. "She does seem mysterious."

"She is that. She'd probably make a better heroine for your novels than I would." She looked away, but he caught the disappointment in her voice. Like she expected to get dumped for someone else.

"Not at all."

That brought Jazz's attention back to him in a quick jump. Her eyebrows lifted.

"I don't think a heroine based on her would be relatable enough. A little mystery and a few secrets can go a long way. A lot can be too much."

"Too much, huh?" Her smile flashed in the shadows that competed with the light from the nearby lamppost. "Then I'd better be sure to tell you everything about me so you can choose how much to keep secret."

"I'd like that." His gaze locked on hers, dipping into the pool of her emerald eyes. Until he realized what he'd said—how it sounded. "We'll need to have another interview so I can get more facts…for the character." He still couldn't pull his gaze away from those hypnotic eyes. Maybe because of the way they were fixed on him. Like she couldn't look away either.

A car door slammed.

They both startled and jerked back. He hadn't realized how close they'd been standing to each other. He twisted to look toward the noise.

Only Dan Harris getting into his sedan to leave. Hawthorne had thought Dan had the overnight shift. Must've gotten him confused with someone else.

"Well…" Hawthorne turned to Jazz, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck while he tried to get his ragged heart rate to settle down. "Thanks for telling me about Patch. Not surprising he has a criminal background."

"Yeah. I'm glad I have the meeting with him tomorrow. I'll let you know what I find out."

"If there's even a hint of danger or anything off, text or call, and I'll be there as fast I can."

"Thanks. But I've got it, remember?"

"Right." He grinned. "I keep forgetting I'm talking to a thriller heroine."

"Dangerous thing to forget." Her eyes twinkled as she laughed.

"Yes, it is." Almost as dangerous as forgetting to keep his guard up and keep his distance. Women didn't usually worm their way past his defenses. He was in and out too quickly for that at any location. Especially since he'd become a Christian, he wouldn't go in for short flings, and he knew he was better off single. Meant to be single.

He couldn't let a woman even as special as Jazz interfere with what he knew was best. Having a spouse would limit what he could do. And he could end up like his parents, tied down to someone who would up and decide to do something insane like join a cult. And he'd be trapped. Or she could suddenly change personalities, reject God, turn out not to be a real Christian at all. He'd seen it happen to friends.

Jazz wasn't even claiming to be a Christian, so what in the world was he getting all worked up about?

He was going to tell her about the names Rebekah had given him of guys Sam could have stayed in touch with outside the cult. But the urge to get while the getting was good welled up inside him. He could tell her later, if the leads amounted to anything.

"Well, have a good night." He spun on his heel.

Her faint, surprised, "Goodnight," reached his ears as he kept walking away. Running away was more like it.

But isn't that what the Bible told him to do? Flee from temptation?

His quick flight landed him by his car in fifteen seconds when it probably should've taken him twenty. He unlocked the driver's door and slid in behind the wheel.

Something white and square caught his eyes, stuck to the windshield.

He paused. A hasty move to get out of the car right away could be just what someone wanted. Reaching for the paper without checking his surroundings would make him vulnerable to ambush.

He checked the side and rearview mirrors. Nothing but quiet parking lot, dotted by the ten cars that remained there for the overnight security guards.

Hand going to his holstered Glock, he slowly stood, checking in all directions.

An engine started.

Jazz's SUV pulled straight ahead through the empty stall in front of her and drove at an angle across the parking lot to leave.

Hawthorne reached for the paper on the windshield.

Blank.

He turned it over.

Typed letters stared up at him. Curiosity killed the writer. Go somewhere else for research. Or it's The End for you.