“You’re preaching to the choir, Deputy,” the detective had said after she’d spent ten minutes ranting. “I get it. I’ve never liked the special treatment Wonderland gets, but it’s not going to change. Not on Earl’s watch, anyway. When he retires, maybe Seaside PD won’t be so aligned with the park’s agenda, but until then—”
“We toe the company line.”
“Yeah.” Donnie lowered his voice then. “Just watch who you bitch about it to, though, okay? You’re all right with me, but remember, all ears lead back to Earl.”
“Not an issue because nobody else really talks to me,” Vanessa said dryly, but she knew he was right. “But thanks for the reminder.”
Tanner Wilkins’s son stared out at her from a picture that appeared to be his senior class photo from high school. He looked like a much younger, skinnier version of his dad. Dark blond hair, same bright blue eyes, and six four, according to the summary notes, which made him the same height as his father, minus forty or so pounds of muscle. He’d been eighteen at the time of his disappearance, three months shy of his nineteenth birthday. His file contained the usual: the official police report, brief statements from a half dozen Wonderland people including Oscar Trejo and the elusive security guard Glenn Hovey, and interviews with his parents, Tanner and Beth Wilkins. There was also a note that a copy of Tyler’s file had been sent to retired Seattle police detective-turned-private investigator Jerry Isaac, whom Tanner had hired a few months after his son had gone missing. Tyler’s file was as painfully thin as Aiden’s was.
Vanessa checked the clock. It was only 8 p.m., not late at all. She reached for her cell phone and scrolled through it until she found the number she was looking for.
He answered on the second ring, his familiar voice deep and hoarse. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, and she could almost see his grin from two hundred miles away. “Miz Vanessa Castro. How the hell are you, honey?”
Vanessa smiled at the sound of his voice, immediately conjuring an image of former Seattle PD detective Jerry Isaac in her mind. Tall and impossibly skinny, his skin the color of dark chocolate, Jerry had an easy smile that went on for days. A few years back, Jerry’s voice had no rasp, and it had instead been a rich baritone that could have gotten him hired as a movie announcer if he’d ever wanted to switch careers. A serial killer had slashed his throat, and his vocal cords had never been the same, though he sounded much better now than the last time they’d spoken.
“I’m doing well,” she said warmly, happy just to be talking to him again. “You probably heard that I’m in Seaside. Traded in the big city for a small town.”
“Seaside? You left SPD? No, I hadn’t heard.” Jerry’s surprise was obvious. “Last I saw you was when?”
“John’s funeral.”
“Ah shit.” There was a pause. “Of course. I’m sorry, sweetie. That was stupid of me. You doing okay?”
“Hanging in.” It was her stock answer. Had they been face-to-face over lunch, she might have delved into more detail with Jerry, who would probably understand what she was going through more than most people. She didn’t want to get distracted from why she’d called, though. “How are you?”
“Hanging in.” The smile in Jerry’s voice carried through the phone. “So you’re in Seaside, huh?”
“You don’t watch the news?” She found herself holding her breath.
“I didn’t realize a job change was newsworthy,” Jerry said with a laugh, but it was kind, and Vanessa found herself relaxing. “Not that it matters to me. I stopped watching the news a long time ago. There’s never anything good in there. Too much horribly depressing shit going on in the world.”
“That’s funny, coming from a homicide detective.”
“Former homicide detective. Been retired now for almost eight years.”
“Miss it?”
“Not even a little bit.” He cleared his throat. “But I’m assuming you didn’t call to talk about that. What can I do for you, pretty lady?”
Ordinarily Vanessa hated being called pet names like “honey,” “sweetie,” or “pretty lady,” but coming from Jerry, it never came across as condescending or offensive. Jerry Isaac had been one of her training officers when Vanessa started out, and though he’d had a reputation back then for being a ladies’ man, he’d treated Vanessa more like a daughter than anything else.
“I’m looking at an old case in Seaside and your name came up,” she said. “As a PI, not a police detective.”
“Seaside case of mine?” Jerry paused. “Then you must be calling about Tanner Wilkins’s boy, Tyler. Damn. That was a long time ago. One of my first cases when I went into business for myself. Spent a lot of time in Seaside. Don’t tell me you found him.”
“I wish,” Vanessa said. “Unfortunately, he’s still missing. I actually met Tanner regarding a different matter, and the subject of his son came up. I promised him I’d take another look.”
Jerry let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know that you should have done that, honey. The case was dry back then. It would be dust by now.”
“You’re probably right, but here’s the thing. A boy, same age as Tyler, also went missing three years ago. Aiden Cole. Also eighteen at the time of his disappearance, also worked for Wonderland, also went missing at the end of the summer. Well, he just turned up. A John Doe was discovered at Wonderland, and lo and behold, it’s Aiden Cole.”
“Shee-it. Aiden Cole is Homeless Harry?”
“I thought you just said you didn’t watch the news.”
“Saw the hashtag on Twitter,” Jerry said. “How’d he die again?”
“Blunt-force trauma. ME thinks maybe a baseball bat. Dead for six days, maybe longer, before his body turned up at Wonderland.”
Jerry emitted a low whistle. “Three years missing only to go out like that.”
“Seaside is a small town, Jerry. Two missing boys felt like a lot to me. But now it’s three. A kid named Blake Dozier’s disappeared now, too.”
“The Wonder Wheel Kid,” Jerry said. “Saw that hashtag, too. What are your theories?”
“Don’t have any.” Vanessa sighed again. “What I do know is Ava’s working at the park now, and I can’t lie, working on this is making me more than a little concerned for her safety.”
“Aw, I’m sure you have nothing to be concerned about,” Jerry said. “Wonderland is a huge place. It has, what, something like a thousand employees during the summer?”
“Closer to twelve hundred, I think.”
“The odds of anything happening to Miss Ava are no worse than if she worked anywhere else. But you’re a mom, and a cop, so I get it. Three missing boys, and one turns up dead . . .” His voice trailed off.
“What is it?”
“Actually, make that four missing boys.”
“What?” she said again.
Jerry’s voice was grim. “Three years after Tyler went missing, I got a call from Tanner. A kid named . . . what was it again . . . Kyle something? Disappeared. His case was a bit strange. He worked for Wonderland, primary gig was in the Bandstand. He disappeared in the middle of a concert.”
The Bandstand was the amphitheater inside Wonderland. Every summer they had a concert series, usually bands that hadn’t made it to the big time yet, or bands that had made it to the big time, but twenty years ago.
“Go on.”
“Some band was playing, can’t remember who now. Something went faulty and there was an electrical fire backstage, and one of the band members was injured. He didn’t die, suffered some burns and whatnot, but with all the chaos, the concert was shut down immediately. That was the last night Kyle was seen. Last anyone could remember was that he was backstage, working. And then just like that, gone.”
“Did he cause what happened with the wiring?”
“No, I don’t believe so. I don’t think he had anything to do with gett
ing the stage ready; he was more like a gopher to the bands that came through, getting them water and food and such. I only mentioned it because the last time Kyle was seen was just before the commotion erupted. Anyway, when a couple days went by and the kid didn’t turn up, Tanner called me, even though we hadn’t spoken in a few years. He thought it was too coincidental that Kyle went missing, too. He thought the park might be involved somehow.”
“So did you look into it?”
“I couldn’t,” Jerry said. “I wasn’t working for a while back then, if you remember.”
“Oh, right.” Vanessa immediately felt like a prize idiot. Now who was the one who was stupid? Five years ago, Jerry was fighting for his life in the hospital. “Shit.”
“Oh, stop.” Her friend’s tone was dismissive. “Feels like a lifetime ago. Anyway, when I had the conversation with Tanner, I was home from the hospital, but not in a great place. At the time, I thought Tanner was reaching. Both his son and Kyle were eighteen, old enough to take off if they wanted to, and the idea of an amusement park causing their disappearances was just too big a theory to try and prove. But now there’s two more, for a total of four. I don’t know, maybe Tanner was on to something.”
Vanessa thought for a moment. “When you investigated Tyler’s disappearance, was there anything that didn’t jibe?”
It was an open-ended question, the kind that only a seasoned cop could ask another seasoned cop. It had nothing to do with anything quantifiable; it more referred to gut instinct. Hunches. Things that didn’t feel right, that weren’t necessarily explainable. Jerry knew what she was getting at.
“When I took the job, I told Tanner I would investigate like a cop would, with no bias,” Jerry said. “Which is exactly what I did. And in the end, it looked like everything the police initially said held up. I almost felt bad taking Tanner’s money, though I’d spent a good couple of weeks asking questions and looking around. Witnesses saw Tyler at the park painting the mural and everything was fine. Then the security guard—I’d have to double-check this so don’t take my word for it yet—said he saw Tyler a bit later on during his rounds of the park. But that was it. He never made it home.”
“And Tanner said the security footage showed nothing,” Vanessa said.
“Their surveillance system was a joke back then.”
“They have the same surveillance system now.”
Jerry snorted. “The only piece that didn’t quite jibe was the security guard. Glenn something. I couldn’t pin anything on him, there was nothing to point to him doing anything to Tyler, but I never liked him. He was weird.”
“Glenn Hovey,” Vanessa said. “You talked to him?”
“A couple of times. His answers were always vague. He said he must have been doing his rounds of the park when the kid left. He wasn’t in front of the monitors and therefore didn’t see anything.”
“Glenn Hovey’s name keeps coming up,” Vanessa said. “He was the only person scheduled to be at the park the morning Blake Dozier disappeared, but he never showed up for work. We still haven’t been able to locate him.”
“Wait a minute. You mean the guy still works at Wonderland?”
“As far as I know, they haven’t fired him.”
“Shee-it.” Jerry’s tone was flat. “If that’s the guy they keep on security, then maybe Miss Ava shouldn’t be working there after all. I wouldn’t want that guy watching my ass. Mind you, he’s supposedly good friends with the owner of the park.”
“I told her to watch out for security guards.” Vanessa chewed on her bottom lip. “Maybe I should talk to her about it again. Glenn Hovey’s close with Bianca Bishop?”
“More with her uncle, Nick Bishop.”
“His niece runs the place now. I haven’t met her yet. But maybe I should. I’d like to know what she thinks of three missing kids.”
“I never spoke to her, but we did run into each other once as I was leaving the administrative building. She looked at me like I was a cockroach, asked me if I was lost. She had a lot of attitude for someone so young; she would have been in her late twenties when Tyler went missing.” Jerry chuckled. “Her uncle was a lot nicer.”
“Think she’s racist?”
“More like elitist. She was up here and I was down there.” Jerry paused. “But yeah, in hindsight, maybe she didn’t like the color of my skin. If you talk to her, make sure you wear your badge and gun. I’m sure, to her, I was just an annoying civilian running around, asking intrusive questions. My feeling is she’ll respect you more than she did me.”
“I don’t know about that,” Vanessa said. “From what I’ve heard, Wonderland seems to think that Seaside PD works for them. An attitude like that comes from the top.”
“True. Hey, you want my notes on Tyler? I can FedEx them tomorrow. There might not be much more than what you already know, but it couldn’t hurt to look them over. Something might jog.”
“That would be great,” Vanessa said. “But could you send it to me at home? I’ve kind of gone rogue on this—I’m not officially working on anything to do with Tanner’s son. The Wonder Wheel Kid and Homeless Harry are my only active cases.”
“Some things never change.” Jerry chuckled and took down her address. “By the way, is Detective Carl Weiss still working there?”
“No, he retired about a month ago, as deputy chief. I replaced him. Why?”
“They made that guy deputy chief?” Jerry’s rasp got worse. He sounded almost angry. “He was the most useless, unhelpful cop I’d ever met. His shoddy investigative work on Tyler’s case is the reason I had no hope of finding him. There were so many people he didn’t talk to, leads he didn’t follow up on.”
“Tanner said the same thing. As did Aiden Cole’s father.”
Jerry whistled. “Wow. How’d you get that job, anyway?”
“John’s best friend, Frank Greenberg. He’s the mayor here in Seaside now. Elected last year. He . . . did me a favor.”
“Ah.” There was a long pause. Jerry knew there was no point in asking; if Vanessa wanted him to know the details, she would have offered them. “Well, who cares how you got it. Seaside needs you, clearly.”
“I miss your face, Jerry. It’s been way too long. I should come up and visit, once things settle down here.”
“You do that, Miz Castro. It would be lovely to see you.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up. In her notebook, Vanessa wrote down three names.
Glenn Hovey, security guard.
Carl Weiss, former Deputy Chief of Seaside.
Kyle ??
She drew circles around them all.
Recipient(s):All Wonderland Staff
Sender:Nick Bishop
Subject:Your Career Path, the Wonderland Way!
Dear Wonder Worker,
I was only fourteen when I began my first job at Seaside’s World of Wonder, around the same age a lot of you are. Now I’m the owner of Wonderland. How did I get from there to here? I worked hard, of course, and I followed my passions! And I encourage you all to do the same.
The job postings you see on our website aren’t just for prospective Wonder Workers. They’re also for you, the current Wonder Worker. If you ever see a job that excites you, apply! We want your experience at Wonderland to be as well rounded as you need it to be, and in alignment with whatever long-term goals you have, whether they’re with the park or not.
No matter where I am in the world, I’m invested in the park, and I’m invested in you. If you need guidance about your career path, talk to your Team Leader today. He or she will help ensure that you find the best fit at Wonderland for YOU. That’s the Wonderland way!
Yours sincerely,
Nick Bishop
Owner, Wonderland Amusement Park, Inc.
EIGHTEEN
Ava was grateful she’d been assigned to hot dogs. Not that she wan
ted to work at this hot dog cart forever, but it wasn’t a bad first gig as far as food services went. You didn’t get to choose your first gig at Wonderland, but you could always put in for a transfer down the road. Ava had her eye on Elm Street, but for now, hot dogs were fine.
Katya, her new friend, hadn’t been so lucky. They’d met the other day while being force-fed a video on the importance of hygiene and food safety, and had bonded instantly over a love of One Direction, cupcakes, and dyeing their hair pink, which both of them wanted to do someday, but not right now. Katya had been assigned to Teriyaki Delight inside the food court. Both girls agreed that it was about as shitty a food gig as it got, as Katya would be required to wear a shiny kimono and cook with her face in the steam all day—indoors, no less. Compared to that, hot dogs were a breeze. They came precooked and all Ava had to do was grill them a bit and slap them in a bun. And the best part? Her cart was stationed right in the midway, allowing her to stare at Xander Cameron all day.
Xander was across from her in the midway now, doing his thing at Hoop Shot, which was considered to be the best game in the park. It cost the most tickets to play and was one of the most popular games (the grand prizes were regulation NBA jerseys from your favorite team), and since games crew was paid based on how many tickets they turned in at the end of their shifts, Hoop Shot was the most lucrative way to make money. Ava had overheard some of the Wonder Workers grumbling about what Xander, a newbie, must have done to score a gig so good. But it wasn’t Xander’s fault he’d had his interview with the CEO herself. Sometimes you got lucky.
“Ten tickets to play! You know you want to!” Xander called out to passersby on his megaphone. “You think you can shoot threes like Steph Curry? Come and show me, and I’ll give you the jersey of your choice! Come on, big guy, you know you can do it, get on over here, and win your girl something she’ll be proud of!”
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