by Amie Denman
“How old was his brother at the time? I think Matt’s a few years older, right?” Caroline asked. She had guessed that she and Lucas were about the same age, and Matt seemed to be about the same age as her older brother, Scott. She pictured her older brother trying to shield her from sorrow and imagined it was much the same for Matt and his brother.
Agnes nodded. “Six years, I think.”
How does an eleven-year-old boy feel when his father goes to jail and he loses everything except his mother and his little brother? Perhaps he feels like he has the world on his shoulders—or in the back of his dump truck. No wonder Lucas had drawn Matt that way. Tears stung Caroline’s eyes.
“That’s a sad story,” she muttered, pretending to search for something in her beach bag so Agnes wouldn’t see her shining eyes and pink face. “And his father must still have a few years left on his sentence.”
“I guess.”
“So, did you forgive Lucas after you heard this story and agree to another date with him?”
“Not exactly. Spring break came up, and then we were busy with finals. And then school was over and we both ended up here for the summer.”
“And?”
“He seems really troubled, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. Maybe it’s the whole dad-in-jail thing. We’re friends, but I don’t know if it will go beyond that.”
Caroline adjusted her sunglasses and reclined on her beach chair. “There’s still plenty of summer left, so you never know.”
“How about you?”
“Not interested in Lucas.”
Agnes laughed. “You know what I mean. Have you met your summer romance yet?”
Caroline closed her eyes, and Matt’s face came to her mind. His blond buzz cut framing a wide smile. Green eyes. What was he hiding behind that smile? Instead of drawing portraits immortalizing his childhood pain, did he turn his passion into blueprints and construction jobs?
She knew something about converting feelings into work; it was behind her quest for justice.
And, unfortunately, her current quest involved Matt’s stepfamily.
“I’m not looking for summer romance,” Caroline said. “I don’t want to be the girl wearing lipstick and waiting at the bar.”
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER, after showering off sand and sunscreen, Caroline faced one of the toughest decisions of her life.
She didn’t want to do it. Breaking the rules went against everything she believed in. Justice and laws were the only defense against a crazy and unfair world. But what happened when the rules made it harder for people with good intentions?
Talking with Agnes at the beach had made her realize how loyal Matt must be to his stepfather and how incredibly unlikely it was that Matt would give her any real information.
She was up against a dead end. The Knight family deserved answers, and the Dupont family deserved justice. Frustratingly, nothing was coming easily.
Files at Starlight Point were missing.
The local newspaper was no help.
Reports from the state inspection agency might contain nothing, even if she waited weeks more for their arrival.
And she certainly wasn’t getting any information out of Matt’s family about the ride. She respected family loyalty, but she also knew that getting past that loyalty to the truth could be like breaking into a sealed vault.
She had to find a way into the vault.
Since giving up was not an option, Caroline faced the fact that she needed to take drastic measures. With just two hours before she needed to be at work, she walked to the Starlight Point personnel office, which was tucked into a concrete block building near the marina.
She had no business being there, and she was taking a major risk that could destroy her reputation and her future, but at this point, she had no choice.
“Hi, Lucy,” Caroline said cheerily to the girl at the front desk.
“Not working today, Caroline?” The girl gestured to Caroline’s T-shirt and shorts.
“Not yet. Doing a little paperwork for the chief before my shift starts. I’m trying to organize our files, and we’ve found there’s a lot of overlap with yours whenever an employee ends up getting involved with the police department here.” Caroline swallowed. The lies almost stuck in her throat, but she was already committed. “I just need to look at some ancient files to see if your records match up with ours.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Boring stuff, huh?”
“You’re telling me.” Caroline waved a piece of paper. “I just have to check off that these records are here, and then we can stick them in deep storage over at the station. I’ll just be a minute.”
“Help yourself,” Lucy said. “I have to hold down this desk, so I can’t help you dig.”
“I’ll be fine,” Caroline said.
Heart pounding, she breezed through the glass door that separated the personnel office from a dimly lit records room.
The files in this musty room were in alphabetical order by name instead of categorized by month and year. Luckily, Caroline knew exactly what name she was searching for as she pulled out the D drawer and located the file on George Dupont.
Score. Her fingers trembling with guilt and the fear of consequences if she got caught searching records she had no right to see, Caroline opened the file. She hadn’t dared to bring a scanner, but she slipped her cell phone from her pocket and started taking pictures.
It was the first crime she had ever committed, but she believed it was necessary so that justice would eventually be served—if she didn’t end up fired and humiliated.
The folder contained standard HR documents, such as his original handwritten employment application, papers certifying him as an electrician, notifications of salaries and raises. Twenty years’ worth of records, all of which indicated his loyal service to Starlight Point. He was unmarried, had no children, and his mother was listed as next of kin and beneficiary. He’d begun as a summer worker and was the head of maintenance when he died.
Caroline flipped to the medical examiner’s report. Death by electrocution. Confirmed cause of death with an autopsy. Closed case. It was a surprisingly long report, though, and maybe there was something to be gleaned from it.
She glanced over her shoulder to confirm she was alone.
The medical examiner’s report included the full autopsy. She skimmed past details such as the contents of the deceased’s stomach, location and description of scars, and other general health issues. She read the description of his clothing. Plaid shirt with snap closures. Jeans. A thick leather belt with an attached key ring. Athletic socks and shoes.
He wasn’t wearing his maintenance uniform?
No name tag or employee identification badge was found on the body. Wasn’t he on duty at the time of the accidental electrocution? If not, why was he there?
The contents of his pockets were also listed and photographed. A wallet with a license, an insurance card and twenty-seven dollars in cash. A set of car keys.
Caroline looked closely at the picture. 1985 was before the era of the electronic key fob. The small ring held a car door key and an ignition key, both labeled Chevrolet. He also had some change, a tissue and a broken bolt in the pocket of his pants. Nothing out of the ordinary. Caroline squinted at the picture of the broken bolt. A small number five was stamped on its face.
There was no smoking gun. Nothing to indicate that his death was anything other than the accident it had been labeled.
She looked again at the image of the dead man’s body. Why was he wearing street clothes instead of his uniform? Did it mean anything at all? If he was off duty and had come in to work, perhaps he was off his game. It could make him careless enough to forget a safety procedure. Maybe he was in a hurry to get back to whatever he was doing with his time off.
&
nbsp; It was a theory. And there must have been nothing to indicate foul play at the time of the accident, or certainly someone would have looked more closely. The man’s family, the owner of Starlight Point, the Point police, even the local police. Someone would have asked questions.
Unless they had something to hide.
If anything had been hidden, it had been concealed well enough to remain out of sight for over thirty years. Her chances of finding it now were practically zero.
She thought about the fire that had killed her sister, Catherine. It was twenty years ago now. No one had ever been charged, and no one ever would be.
Caroline gripped the photo of the dead man and ran a finger over the surface. Was it too late for him, too? And what kind of ghosts would she be disturbing if she continued to ask questions?
* * *
“IT’S GETTING DARK,” Matt said. “How long will they make you stand out here?”
Caroline started and swung around. He knew he wouldn’t usually stand a chance sneaking up on her, but the scrambler ride across the way was flashing and beeping obnoxiously, allowing him to approach unnoticed.
“Until the park clears,” she said.
“I thought you usually had the day shift.”
“I do. But I switched with one of the other guys so he could have an evening free.”
Matt took off his hard hat and ran a hand over his hair. Since the afternoon media cruise, he’d wanted an opportunity to talk to Caroline about his family’s connection to the Loose Cannon.
He knew how it looked. She’d brought it up several times, and he’d pretended not to know anything. The truth was, he didn’t know much. He only knew how much it hurt his stepfather’s and his uncle’s feelings whenever it came up. He was so accustomed to it being an off-limits subject that he found it hard to talk about.
He’d found it strange that his stepfather’s company had bid on the job for the new coaster at Starlight Point. Was it an opportunity for redemption as the pushy reporter had suggested?
He’d been thinking about approaching Caroline, and when he discovered she was still on duty it seemed like a perfect chance. He had no idea what she knew about the Loose Cannon or why she was asking questions. It was risky, getting close to a woman who asked too many questions, but Starlight Point was a small world. He couldn’t avoid her forever.
“Date?”
“I didn’t ask why he wanted the night off,” Caroline said, confusion furrowing her brow.
“I mean...would you consider a coffee date with me?”
Although there were thousands of artificial lights along the midway and emanating from the rides and attractions, it was semidark along the construction fence where Caroline kept her usual post. He wished he could see her face clearly right now to judge whether she was about to say yes or arrest him for harassing an officer of the law.
“It’s too late for coffee. I’d never get to sleep tonight.”
“Welcome to my life. When this project is done in ten months, I plan to sleep for ten years.”
“Then who would run your company?”
That question was too close to the heart. Would Bruce still be alive next summer? And what would be the fate of Bayside Construction either way?
“It’s not a one-man show,” he said.
“It looks that way to me.”
“Well, it isn’t.” He spoke quickly and wished his tone wasn’t that of a car door slamming.
“If it’s not all on your shoulders, why can’t you sleep at night?”
Matt jammed his hard hat back on his head. No matter how interesting he found Caroline. No matter how much he wanted to see what made her tick. No matter how pretty she was in that green dress on that cruise, it was dangerous and difficult trying to figure out why she was interested in the Loose Cannon and his family’s company. It was a tough chapter in his family’s past, and he didn’t want her opening that book, but trying to outwit her was obviously pointless.
“You take your job seriously, Caroline,” he said. For some reason, using her name for the first time felt personal. She moved a little so her face was lit up by a beam from the fence’s lighting. Judging from her wide eyes, he had her attention. “So you certainly understand why I take mine seriously.”
“I do.”
Matt breathed. Maybe this would be okay. He could take her out for a late-night beverage—not coffee—and maybe she would tell him why she kept asking questions that made him uncomfortable.
“Why do bolts have numbers stamped on them?” she asked.
What? Was he so bad at asking a girl out that she reverted to construction questions? He had no idea where she was coming from, and the only way he could answer the question was with the simple truth.
“It’s their grade. It indicates the strength of the bolt.”
“Is five a good grade?”
“Depends what it’s being used for.”
Caroline flicked a glance at the construction area. “What kind will you use on the new ride?”
Maybe taking Caroline out for a beverage was a really bad idea. He already doubted everything about his life and, if she began to question the few things he was sure he understood, he wouldn’t sleep for a thousand years.
“We’ll use what it says on the construction blueprints.”
“What does it say?”
Matt huffed out a long breath. The heck with coffee or anything else. He might as well stay up all night working.
“It depends on the part of the ride. Non-weight-bearing applications can handle a lower grade of bolt, but we use grade eight for high-stress applications.”
“Are the number eights bigger?”
Matt shook his head. “Stronger. The numbering system is its strength and indicates the amount of force it would take to sheer it off.”
He’d spent a lot of time wondering what his father was thinking when he made those disastrous criminal decisions years ago. He’d been wondering lately what was going through his stepfather’s mind and his decision about the future of his company. But right now, Matt would give almost anything to know what Caroline was driving at with her out-of-left-field questions about bolts.
“I’m not off work until midnight and I have to be back at seven, so a...beverage date...isn’t going to work out tonight.”
Maybe it was for the best.
“Another time,” Matt said, expecting it would be the easy out she was probably looking for.
“Why are you asking me out?”
“I thought we could talk,” he said. The truth was the truth. “By now you certainly know about my stepfamily’s history.”
She nodded. “Do you know what caused the accident on the Loose Cannon?”
“No.”
She stared at him as if she was trying to read his face for lies. He couldn’t lie even if he wanted to. As far as he knew, no one was certain what caused the Loose Cannon to toss out a rider and injure others. He knew what everyone else did. The investigation was inconclusive, the ride closed at the end of the season and his family preferred never to talk about it.
“I have to teach self-defense classes for Virginia Hamilton’s summer project tomorrow night, but you could show up if you want. Then you could tell me everything you know.”
Matt swiped a hand over his eyes. How could he talk to her about the Loose Cannon without revealing it all—everything that was in his heart and mind?
CHAPTER TEN
ON THE FIRST night of STRIPE classes in the ballroom at the arcade, the Hamilton family was there in full force. Virginia, Jack, June and Evie welcomed the two hundred seasonal and year-round employees who’d ventured out for the first night. A photographer from the publicity department was there, waiting with her camera and tablet.
What have I gotten myself in
to? Caroline had attended classes the previous year and listened to her brother extol the virtues of fire safety. She also knew, in theory, that she would lead the group of police officers and volunteers who would demonstrate self-defense techniques to every Starlight Point employee from the lifeguards to the cotton candy sellers. But she hadn’t grasped the scale of the project until she surveyed the large group for the first of ten nights of classes.
Thick mats covered a section of the floor and rows of chairs contained the night’s first group of trainees. True to her word, Virginia had secured volunteers from the Starlight Point police force and some from Bayside.
No matter how many helpers she had, though, Caroline felt the weight of the job on her shoulders. She had prepared a speech with examples and tips. Had worked up a lesson plan to fill the ninety minutes with useful knowledge and practical hands-on techniques. She hoped the skills would someday help someone out of a tough situation—or help them avoid it.
“I always feel young again when I see all the young people lined up eager to learn,” Virginia said. She stood near the edge of the stage with Caroline while her children officially welcomed people and showed them to their seats. “I remember when I was their age and I thought all I’d get out of my summer job was a paycheck.” She laughed. “Boy, was I wrong.”
Caroline smiled. “You met your husband here, right?”
“Yes. And plenty of other people have met their spouses here, too. I was definitely wrong when I thought I’d quickly forget about my summer loading roller coasters in the heat. I’ve heard from so many people over the years that working here sticks with you.”
“Do you still keep in touch with the friends you made that first summer?”
“Some of them. Some still live in the area and I see them here on occasion with their kids and grandkids.”
“Happy memories,” Caroline commented. She was nervous about teaching the self-defense course even though she had done so well in college she was asked to be the assistant instructor for two succeeding courses. She’d even done a small course at the local library for senior citizens.