Until The Ride Stops. Amie Denman
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site. Matt gave Jack the progress report, which didn’t differ much from the week before. Things were moving along on schedule, but it was still early. And worrying about the project really did keep Matt awake at night.
Jack’s phone rang as they passed the Kiddie Land motorcycles chasing each other on a track. He answered, listened and dropped the phone back into the pocket of his suit coat. “I need to go to my office,” he said. “Will you deliver Caroline’s doughnuts?”
“Sure.”
Jack handed over a white pastry bag, waved and left the midway with long strides. He cut through Kiddie Land, his steps keeping time with the beeping horns and flashing lights.
Matt headed toward the long fence where Caroline stood like a post, arms crossed. He held out the bag and was gratified to see her posture relax as she reached for it with a hint of a smile.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Anytime.” He balanced his crew’s box of doughnuts on his hip. “If you’re going to be out here all summer, we should get to know each other. So far I know you don’t like spiders or camping, you’re merciless with a flashlight and you like pastries more than teenagers.”
“Everyone likes pastries more than teenagers,” Caroline said. She opened the bag and looked inside, nodding approval at what she saw.
“I can’t believe you doubted me,” Matt said.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on the other side of the fence?”
“Yes. But I get out every now and then. Like when we’re waiting for a fresh truckload of licorice.”
Caroline smiled. “Sorry about that. While I’m standing here, I make up ridiculous answers to the question about what we’re building, but I can’t use my snarky answers with actual guests. I don’t think the Hamiltons would be impressed.”
“But you’re related to them. Jack said your brother married his sister.”
She nodded. “They met last summer.”
“And Jack met his wife here, too?”
“Yes. That was before I worked here.”
“Must be something in the air,” Matt said.
Caroline raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything.
“You could probably have your pick of jobs with family connections like yours. Why are you standing in the hot sun warding off gawkers outside a construction zone?”
Her jaw tightened and she turned steely eyes on him. “I’m willing to work my way up and earn my stripes. Justice is a serious business.”
Matt cleared his throat. “So is building stuff. I should get back to work. We’re digging out some old roller coaster footers.”
“From the Loose Cannon,” Caroline said.
Matt bit his lip and goose bumps lifted along his back. When Bayside Construction had won the bid to build the new coaster practically on top of the one his uncle had built, he’d asked his stepfather for more information. The older man had muttered something about letting sleeping dogs lie. Bruce Corbin’s heart was delicate, and Matt hadn’t pushed for details.
Why was Caroline so quick with the coaster’s name? She seemed to be a few years younger than he was, and the Loose Cannon was gone long before either one of them was born.
“How did you know about that?”
“I...studied a little park history. It’s no secret. A roller coaster named the Loose Cannon was built on this site back in the 1980s.”
Did she sound defensive?
“I’ll have to come find you if I ever need a history lesson on Starlight Point,” Matt said.
Caroline shifted her gaze to the side, refusing to meet his eyes.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to find a giant man in a black uniform.
“Is this guy bothering you?” the man asked Caroline.
“No,” she said. “He was asking directions.” She turned and pointed to the tree that concealed the entrance gate into the construction site. “That’s where you want to go.”
She walked away, leaving Matt with the giant police officer.
“Guess you ought to move along,” the man said. “Before she comes back and finds you hanging around.”
Matt let himself through the gate, shoved his hard hat on and went back to work. He considered opening a conversation with Caroline—or anyone—about the Loose Cannon. His stepfather brushing him off had been out of character. It made Matt wonder if there was more to the brief story in the family archive of things-we-don’t-talk-about. Considering his stepfamily’s connection to that ride, he was tempted to find out how much Caroline knew, just to be on the safe side.
Right now, he had work to do. This project would make or break Bayside Construction. And in the process, it would determine the fate of the people he loved most.
* * *
CAROLINE CLOCKED OUT, changed out of her uniform and headed for the filing cabinets in the corner of her chief’s office.
Some of her friends from the rides and foods departments were meeting up to play volleyball and picnic on the beach. Wasn’t the wide swath of sand in front of the Lake Breeze Hotel much more inviting than musty old files?
But she had a mission. Impress her boss and get his recommendation for the limited police academy class beginning in September. Just as important, she wanted answers about the Loose Cannon roller coaster.
She’d heard the rumors last summer, and she’d been curious about what had caused the accident. Then a few weeks ago, she’d discovered that the reclusive older couple who lived down the street from her parents had lost their daughter to the accident, but they’d never gotten any answers. The scars were so deep and wide, they’d moved away from Bayside to Yorkville where Caroline had grown up.
Caroline knew what it was like to lose someone senselessly. Perhaps that’s why the quiet Knights had finally shared their story with her.
She’d known them for years, stopping by their porch on her paper route, shoveling their sidewalk in the winter. She remembered walking past their house on the way to school one spring day when she was in sixth grade. Mrs. Knight had stood on the porch and stared at her sadly but kindly. “You remind me of my daughter,” she’d said.
Caroline had always wondered where the daughter was, expecting her to appear out of nowhere when she dropped off misdirected mail or stopped by with cinnamon bread her mother made on snowy days.
But Jenny Knight had died, her death on the Loose Cannon ruled accidental. It was hard to believe a life could be erased like a chalk drawing with no one to blame.
Somewhere in these rusty filing cabinets, there could be answers. But to find them, she’d have to spend hours scanning all the files.
“Are you sure you want to do this on your own time?” the police chief asked. “We could work it into your shift and cover you out on the midway.”
She shook her head. “It’s good experience.”
Chief Bert Walker sat in a roller chair and used his heels to shove the chair back and forth. “Raking leaves is good experience, but I still pay the neighbor kid to do it so I don’t have to. This is a lousy job.”
Caroline sent him a quick smile and opened the second drawer of the cabinet on the far left. Folders with dates ranging from 1974–1978 filled the drawer.
“Should I throw these away after I scan them?” she asked.
Walker shrugged. “Seems like it would be safe to do that, but you never know when someone’s going to want to see the real thing. And these are actual public and criminal