Until The Ride Stops

CHAPTER TWO

MATT DUNBAR SHADED his eyes and peered through the surveyor’s scope. The project was massive. And unique. Mixing a kiddie coaster with an adult coaster could be genius. Or a total flop. Would little kids line up for a ride that looked scary even if it wasn’t?

That wasn’t his problem. Starlight Point knew its customers better than he did. His responsibility was to make sure the intertwined coasters were built according to the blueprints, the code, the budget and the calendar.

One year. The ride had to open next May, and it had to be perfect. Perfection in a roller coaster meant it had to seem deadly when in reality, riders wouldn’t break a fingernail. He shook his head. Such a paradox.

Millions of dollars were on the line, as well as his company’s reputation and his own hopes and dreams. He had to prove himself. Not many twenty-six-year-olds got an opportunity like this. The media attention at the groundbreaking ceremony a few weeks ago was enough to remind him how high profile Starlight Point was. He’d seen his own picture on the front page of the Bayside Times with a caption saying the top secret project was all on him. Great.

Matt looked up when something caught his eye across the construction zone. A tall man, suit coat flapping, made his way over the mud and around the equipment.

Jack Hamilton. He and his sisters, Evie and June, were co-owners of Starlight Point. He was a nice enough guy and they had something in common—Jack had inherited the park from his parents, much like Matt believed he might inherit Bayside Construction someday. Perhaps sooner than he’d ever thought. His chest tightened when he thought of his stepfather’s declining health.

“How’s it going?” Jack asked.

“Good,” Matt said. He shoved his hard hat back and wiped sweat from his brow. “This part of the project isn’t much to look at, but it’s necessary. Even though it seems like we’re just making a mess.”

“I remember when the Sea Devil site looked like this four years ago. I had a hard time picturing it ever becoming a ride. My sisters still claim I don’t have any imagination, but the problem is usually just that I’m hungry. Want to get a doughnut?”

Matt glanced at his watch. He’d been on-site for three hours now and the midmorning belly rumble was slowing him down. “I could eat a doughnut.”

Jack slapped him on the back. “Let’s go to the bakery just down the midway. But you might want to take off your hard hat so you don’t attract attention. The park’s open, and people are dying of curiosity because of this fence. Of course, it’s our strategy to build excitement and that’s why we swore your company to secrecy.”

“Is the strategy working?”

“I get media requests for details and the ride name every day. And our police department has already chased at least one trespasser out of here, so I’d say yes,” Jack said.

Jack’s face betrayed nothing, and as far as Matt knew, Jack wasn’t talking about him.

“Gawkers,” Matt said.

Jack shrugged. “It’s a pain, but I’m glad people are excited about the ride. It’s a huge investment for us and we could lose our shirts if it fails.” He grinned. “No pressure or anything.”

Matt followed Jack through the mud zone to a gate partially obscured by a tree. He hung his yellow hard hat on a nail before he left the construction area.

“Pink awning,” Jack said, inclining his head down the midway. “Land of sweets.”

Matt didn’t see a pink awning. He saw a tall, slim police officer all in black. She stood, shoulders squared, watching the crowd. Her posture said don’t mess with me.

It was too much temptation. As he and Jack neared Caroline, Matt stopped.

“Excuse me, miss. Can you tell me what they’re building?” He pointed toward the long fence around the coaster project.

Caroline crossed her arms and cocked her head. She recognizes me for certain.

“They’re building a swinging bridge that will connect Starlight Point to the mainland,” she said with straight lips and a professional tone. “It will be the longest bridge built from licorice in North America.”

“That’s what I heard,” Matt said. “I’ll be sure to spread the word on social media.”

Jack laughed. “We’re getting doughnuts, Caroline. You want one?”

The owner knows her first name and is offering her doughnuts? Matt glanced at her silver name tag which only displayed her last name. Bennett.

“Of course I do,” Caroline said. “Cinnamon roll. Maple frosting. I have a break coming up, and I’m a lot nicer to teenagers with sugar in my bloodstream. This place is crawling with school groups.”

“I’ll bring two,” Jack said.

Jack and Matt strode toward the far end of the midway. When they had gone a few steps, Jack grinned. “My sister-in-law,” he said. “Interesting lady.”

“Really?”

“Her brother, Scott, just got married to my sister Evie a few weeks ago. Caroline was a bridesmaid.”

As they approached the pink awning with Aunt Augusta’s Midway Bakery spelled out in script, a woman leaned across the counter. Jack gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

Matt began to feel as if he was in the twilight zone.

“My wife, Augusta,” Jack said.

Matt shook hands with the dark-haired woman and turned to Jack. “Are you related to everyone here?”

Augusta drew her eyebrows together and looked at her husband.

“We just talked with Caroline,” Jack explained. “She wants two cinnamon rolls.”

“With maple frosting,” Matt added. Augusta and Jack both turned their attention to Matt and he felt his ears get hot. So I pay attention to detail, so what? “Could you also box up a dozen for my crew? I can’t go back there and eat in front of them unless I bring enough to share.”

They ate their doughnuts while they walked back toward the construction 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 records.”

Caroline’s heart thumped in her chest. “Do people request old records very often?”

“No. Big city departments, maybe. But not here, not in years. Especially not records from before you were born.”

She pulled out the first folder in the drawer and turned on the scanner. “Am I going to find anything interesting in here?”

The chief rolled back and forth in his chair, watching as she carefully laid papers inside the marked area on the scanner glass. She closed the lid, pressed a button and a blue streak of light slid out.

“Probably not,” Walker said. “In my career here, I’ve only seen a few things that would make it onto the evening news.”

“Such as?”

“Rash of car thefts in the 1990s, right from the parking lot. People stole cars and stereos.”

“Pretty bold.”

“They were,” the chief agreed. “That’s why we have the tower in the parking lot. Used to be the worst job sitting in that tower watching the cars.”

“Worse than scanning all these files?”

“Tough call.” He leaned back in his chair. “We also had some fights over the years, some of them ugly like the one last summer, but you already knew about that one ’cause you were there. Employee theft from cash registers,” he continued, “thefts in the dorms or the hotel. But quiet for the most part. I’ve had years’ worth of petty stuff and general peace.”

“When was your first summer?” Caroline asked.

“1985.”

Her heart flipped again. “You’ve been the chief that long?”

He laughed. “No. I started out just like you. Nonbond without a gun for a few summers, then the academy, then bonded officer for a few years before I moved up the chain.”

“Wasn’t 1985 the year of the accident on the Loose Cannon?” she asked, trying for a casual tone. This was the opportunity she’d been waiting for, a chance to bring up the old case with someone who was there. Who better than a police officer?

The chief spun his chair around so she couldn’t see his face when he said, “Yes.”

“And you were a nonbond?”

“I was.”

He completed the spin and met her eyes. “That was a real shame.”

“The accident?”

“All of it,” he said.

“Were you part of the investigation?”

He shook his head. “No. I was low man in the pecking order. And ride accident falls under the state anyway. They came out and did the inspection, wrote it up.”

“Did they find out what caused the accident?”

He scratched his head.

She waited.

Jenny Knight’s parents had already told her it was ruled as undetermined. But Caroline didn’t want to show her hand. She was more interested in hearing what he knew.

“It was an accident, they said. Sometimes you never know exactly what goes on.”

Caroline slid the paper off the scanner, replaced it in the folder and put it back in the drawer. She took out the next folder, marked February 1974, and began scanning the thin file of documents.

Chief Walker got up abruptly and his chair rolled into the wall with a solid clunk. “Happened a long time ago.”

Caroline finished the February folder quickly. Not much action in the winter.

“The Loose Cannon was in the same place the new ride’s going, wasn’t it?” she asked, as if she were just killing time with conversation. “It’ll be nice to have something fun there instead of just concrete and benches.”

The chief grunted. “You seem awfully interested in this,” he said.

She smiled at him, trying to make her curiosity seem innocent. “I want to be an investigator someday. I have to practice asking questions.”

“And learn when it’s best to stop,” the chief said. He shuffled out to the dispatcher’s desk, said something to the officer on duty and left the station.

Caroline watched him leave and wondered how many questions she should risk asking. Was he right about learning when to stop? Or was he issuing a warning?

CHAPTER THREE

TRAFFIC DUTY. Not her favorite. There was no shade on the Point Bridge. There was no end in sight to the line of cars flowing across the bridge for a Saturday in the park. And why couldn’t people understand how to follow the orange traffic cones? Was it rocket science?

Last summer, she’d watched her partner bounce off the hood of a car whose driver wasn’t paying attention. That was an experience she’d never forget. Or repeat.

Caroline kept her eyes on the incoming cars, their drivers distracted by digging through purses and wallets for the parking fee or for their season pass. One more hour and she could hand this job to someone else and take up her post along the midway where she usually guarded the construction zone. A shade tree with her name on it was waiting for her.

A heavy-duty pickup truck, loud diesel engine rumbling, pulled up in front of Caroline’s post near the tollbooth. The driver cut the engine. What was he doing? There was a line of cars a mile long behind him and he was blocking an entire lane.

She tried to give him the move-it-along look she’d been practicing, but bright morning sun reflected off his window and she couldn’t see his face.

The window slid down a moment later and Matt Dunbar rested his elbow on the frame.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked. “I can’t work unless I know you’re outside my construction fence keeping me safe.”

“I don’t always work in that zone,” she said. “Nobody likes traffic duty, so we have to take turns.” She approached his truck so she wouldn’t have to shout over the traffic noise. “You have to move along. You’re blocking a lane.”

Matt drew his eyebrows together, erasing his easy smile. “Seems dangerous out here with unpredictable drivers. You don’t know what they’re thinking.”

Caroline crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head.

“I know,” he said. “Like me.” He reached onto the floor of his truck and picked up an orange hard hat. “At least put this on, just in case.”

Caroline had already noticed Matt was wearing his safety yellow hard hat with Dunbar written in black marker on the side.

“I never go anywhere without mine,” he said. “Grocery shopping, golf course, piano lessons. I tell you, it’s a dangerous world.”

Caroline did not want to smile. She was supposed to be threatening him with the letter of the law if he didn’t get his giant truck out of the way. But he amused her, even if she did wonder what was under the surface of his ready smile.

“You take piano lessons?” she asked.

“No, but if I did, it would be dangerous. Probably need ear protection, too.”

Cars behind him started honking. The noise swelled into a chorus. The tollbooth supervisor poked his head out and gave Caroline a questioning look.

“You have to move your truck,” Caroline repeated.

“I know. I have work to do.”

“Then what are you doing idling here?”

“Just saying hello. I respect your diligence in guarding my project.”

“That’s my job,” Caroline said.

“I know. But you seem really dedicated. And I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate it.” He took off his hard hat and ran his fingers through his short blond hair. His usual easy smile disappeared and a worry line creased his forehead. “I have a lot riding on it.”

Of course he did. It was a multimillion-dollar venture. But something about his tone made Caroline wonder how deep his personal stakes went.

“If you appreciate my work, you can get moving so I won’t get fired,” she said.

“I’ll make sure you get doughnuts tomorrow. And I’ll bring some for your giant bodyguard, too.”

Matt smiled. Started his truck. And rolled away with the window still down. He waved a moment later, letting her know he saw her watching him pull away.

“He’s not my bodyguard,” she said, even though she was the only one within earshot.

She’d known Matt Dunbar for only a week, but already he mystified her. And confounded her. This summer was about two things: getting to the bottom of a mysterious death and getting into the police academy. Wasting her time chatting up construction engineers was not on her agenda.

Last night, she’d visited the records request website for the state department that handled inspection of amusement park rides. It was a long shot, but she’d hoped the records would be online. They weren’t. Instead, there was a form to complete with a promise of receiving the records via post in four to six weeks.

Four to six weeks. It was the end of May now, so it would easily be the Fourth of July before anything appeared in the post office box she’d rented in downtown Bayside. Waiting was an eternity, but she planned to fill the time by asking questions.

Caroline took out her frustration on the line of cars backed up on the Point Bridge, directing them into lanes with snappy, uncompromising movements. A man put on his turn signal, trying to move over to a lane he thought was better. Caroline stared him down until he sheepishly turned off the signal and fell into line.

When her tour of traffic duty was over, Caroline hitched a ride in the yellow traffic pickup truck to the front gate. She showed her employee badge at the turnstile on the far right, even though her black Starlight Point Police Department uniform probably made it unnecessary. Rules were rules.

She walked toward the old-fashioned carousel near the front gate. With its hand-painted horses, authentic organ music and brightly lit canopy, it had welcomed guests for decades.

After she passed the carousel, Caroline could see all the way down the midway to the spot where it divided into two paths. One would take guests past roller coasters and a swath of family rides. It also included a gate leading to the long, sandy beach and the historic Lake Breeze Hotel, which had reopened this season with a spectacular renovation. The brainchild of her new sister-in-law, Evie Hamilton, the century-old hotel had retained all its history while being upgraded with modern conveniences.

Instead of following the path to the beachfront hotel, Caroline took the left branch, which led past the construction zone for the new ride. That walkway eventually became the Western Trail, winding under shade trees and by a gristmill, blacksmith’s shop and the other historic attractions that made up the Wonderful West. In the far back of the park, both paths met near the Western train station, the Starlight Saloon and a shooting gallery.

Although Caroline enjoyed walking the Western Trail—it was the quietest place in the park—she had only thirty minutes for lunch before she would relieve the police officer by the construction fence. She headed for the station, where a peanut butter sandwich, an apple and an indulgent chocolate cupcake waited for her.

The cable cars overhead cast shadows on the concrete midway. Flowers spilled from planter boxes. The sound of roller coaster trains clacking up hills mixed with the screams of riders going down hills.

She loved it. Loved the smell of funnel cakes and the sound of the waves on the beach. Almost as much as she loved wearing a badge.

Caroline waved to a few friends on her way down the midway. Last summer, she’d met people who worked the food stands and rides, and many of them were back again this year, working their way through college.

Her college days were behind her, though, now that she had satisfied her parents’ number one requirement: a bachelor’s degree. After achieving that, she was free to do whatever she wanted.

Scott had used his fire science degree to catapult him to leadership on a local fire department and now as the chief at the Starlight Point Fire Department. She planned to use her criminal justice degree to accelerate to the top of the class at the police academy.

A petite blonde girl stepped out from the caricature stand and waved to Caroline. “Come over, we’re having a slow day,” she said.

Like most of the teenagers who worked at the booth, Agnes was an art student. Her job was to persuade visitors to slow down, have a seat in the shade and wait while their picture was drawn. Caroline had seen the cartoonish drawings many times, such as a woman with a big smile holding a tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush. A man wearing a chef’s hat and holding frying pans in both hands. A little girl wearing ballet slippers with musical notes swirling around her head.

Caroline wondered what her caricature would look like. Would she be depicted as a dog sniffing out crimes? A big stern face at the wheel of a police car? She smiled at her friend and said, “I’m on lunch right now.”

“Good. Sit down and I’ll draw you.”

Caroline laughed. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on, why not? It only takes a minute for me to get the outlines of your face, and then you can come see the finished product later.”

Caroline hesitated. She was in uniform. If guests saw a police officer sitting for a portrait, they would either think this was the safest amusement park in the world or the most lackadaisical.

“Maybe later,” she said. As she spoke, she noticed a framed caricature on the wall. An example made to entice customers, it was fully colored and remarkably well-done. The man in the picture was wearing a yellow hard hat and driving a dump truck. A big blue and green ball representing the planet Earth was in the bed of the truck.

“That’s a really good one,” Agnes said, noticing Caroline’s stare. “Done by one of my friends this year. I think it’s his brother in the picture.”

“Is his last name Dunbar?”

Agnes tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“I’ve met him.”

“Then maybe you can tell me why he’s got the whole world in his truck. I asked Lucas, but he just shrugged and said you had to know the guy.”

Interesting. Matt had a younger brother who was an artist. And the artist chose to depict Matt like this.

“I...uh...don’t actually know him,” Caroline said. “We’ve just met a few times. Sorry I can’t help you. I better grab my lunch before break’s over.”

“Come back and I’ll do your portrait when you’re not wearing that ugly uniform,” Agnes said. “I’m going to draw you in a red evening gown. With a badge and gun, of course.”

When Caroline finished her lunch and took up guard duty, the hours ticked by. Slowly. There were no heavy machinery noises from the other side of the fence. Probably because it was Saturday, she thought. For all she knew, Matt had stayed for less than an hour and was now home catching up on whatever was on his DVR. She wondered where he lived. Did he have a house in Bayside? Had he lived there all his life?

What did she know about the guy? He was a construction engineer entrusted with a massive project. Jack Hamilton seemed to like him. He had broad shoulders, a smile that lit his eyes and a line around his head from wearing a hard hat.

Caroline shifted from foot to foot. Heat curled the hairs that escaped her long ponytail and stuck to her neck.

She made up sarcastic answers to the summer’s number one question, even though she forbade herself to ever use them. What are they building, you ask?

A funeral home and crematorium.

A baseball diamond.

A track for camel racing.

She watched the Scrambler flash and swirl across the midway. Counted the number of ice cream cones passing her by. Watched children skip along beside their parents.

And tried to put Matt out of her mind so she could focus on her summer goal: figure out what happened that night on the Loose Cannon back in 1985.

* * *

MATT SAT ON the tailgate of his pickup, waiting for his stepfather to stop by the construction site after closing the office for the day. While he swung his legs, taking the weight off his tired feet, he thought about Caroline.

He found her interesting. She guarded his construction zone, an invaluable ally making sure no one got in to vandalize or slow down their work with a moment of misplaced curiosity. He liked having her outside the fence with her look of determination.

But he also wondered why she was so quick with the information about the Loose Cannon and then so evasive when he questioned her. No matter how much she intrigued him, nothing was more important than securing Bruce Corbin’s trust by making sure his family never had another failure like the one long buried.

Matt knew his stepfather believed in him. Bruce hadn’t been forced to give Matt the job of construction engineer; there were other choices. But this job was also a test. Could someone with only a few years of on-the-job experience complete such a massive project? Was a master’s degree in construction engineering a substitute for age and experience?

Bruce Corbin drove through the open gate and Matt shoved it closed and locked it behind his stepfather’s truck.

Looking every one of his sixty-five years, Bruce climbed slowly out of his truck. His face was deeply lined from years of working outdoors. Since his brother John’s death over the winter, Bruce seemed to have aged ten more years.