"All right. Those conditions are fine with us."
Josie spoke up. Someone had to make a decision. Jude's expression remained impassive. Colin looked triumphant and Archer uttered a small sound of contempt that comes just before confrontation. Josie took hold of Archer's arm, steering him away from the group and talking fast.
"It was a long shot at best. . ."
He interrupted with the same alacrity.
"This is crap. . ."
Josie held his arm tight. He tried to shake her off. She would have none of it.
"It was a long shot at best," she reiterated firmly. "They have the right. They could argue that their patrons would be spooked at the sight of you wandering around the park."
"Like any of those people in there would even recognize me. Come on, Jo," Archer complained, jerking his head toward the park.
"If they can convince a judge that letting you through that gate is akin to letting Jack the Ripper through a brothel door then that makes theory reality. Besides, we don't have the time to argue. Their lawyer could take all night making the case to keep you out. In the end, McEntyre might decide to mention the little visit you paid him. The hearing, the motion, it will all be a waste of time that we can't afford to lose. I need this inspection before I walk into the prelim." Josie moved in, her body close to his, her head turned as if they were dancing. She whispered. "Please, Archer. Be smart now. I will make this go away. I promise, babe."
Archer's eyes closed. Degradation, disgrace, humiliation piled atop him like sand on a buried man. A grain here or there could be brushed off; buckets of the damn stuff started weighing him down, hurting his heart, crushing his spirit. Josie took his shoulders in both her hands.
"I'll be back in an hour even if they aren't done. I'll be back for you Archer and we'll wait together if you just let me go in there long enough to check the place out."
It seemed like an eternity but, finally, he nodded his agreement. Josie let her hands drop. She stayed close for a second then rejoined the men at the gate.
"He'll stay."
"Good." McEntyre waved to a man standing nearby and spoke loud enough for Archer to hear. "I'll leave a guard at the gate to make sure your client doesn't forget the rules."
Josie's gut tightened at such condescension but it was the sight of McEntyre's self-satisfied grin that proved her second thought had been the right one. They had no friend here. McEntyre had just poured another bucketful of sand on Archer. With a prayer that it would not be the one to crush him heart and soul, Josie followed the men into the play land that was Pacific Park.
CHAPTER 16
Josie and Jude followed Roger McEntyre through Pacific Park. Wilson and Doctor Hart brought up the rear. Wilson looked pale with the exertion but determined to walk all the way on his own. Colin walked by himself, connected to no one, was uninterested in his surroundings, kept his eyes forward, and his steps measured. He seemed to fear falling off his imaginary line. He was a curious, concentrated man and Josie could not imagine how Lexi could have loved him and Archer both. Archer's emotions were worn openly; Colin's hidden behind a stoic facade. If Josie had to pick who to stand and fight with, Josie would have chosen Colin Wren. He was the kind of man who strategized, moved carefully and with purpose to a designated end. He would never let emotions rule his. . .
"Cool, huh?" Jude walked beside Josie like a kid on a free pass.
"We're not here to have fun." Josie walked faster when McEntyre made a sharp left without so much as looking back.
Jude stayed behind to make sure Wilson and the doctor saw the change of course. Colin was in between. Strung out, making progress at different rates, the caravan reunited far from the boisterous crowds.
Roger McEntyre waited until they were all present, drew back a flap on a huge canvas structure and went inside. The canvas was passed from person to person as Jude's team followed. Once inside, they fanned out, lining up against the side of the canvas wall and looking around. They were in an enclosed space without a roof. Rather, the canvas simply shielded the Shock & Drop from prying eyes.
Initially, no one moved. Then their heads twisted, turned upward, their eyes roamed right and left, to the ground and up again. Eventually, they were drawn to the tower of metal and wire, plastic and pulleys. The Shock & Drop was as massive, impressive, and treacherous as a monster playing dead, ready to reanimate at the slightest touch, the softest tread.
"My goodness," Wilson breathed out and then in again and the hiss of amazement became a whistle of admiration.
"Damn straight," Jude agreed.
Colin stared at the monstrosity.
Josie looked through it until she was ready to look at it.
Doctor Hart was the first to take action.
He did so decisively, walking to the base, finding an appropriate point of operation and opening his bag. From it he took measuring instruments and pads of graph paper, magnifying equipment, things Josie would have to learn about if she was going to examine him effectively on the stand.
Suddenly, as if Doctor Hart had given permission to begin, there was a flurry of activity from the men. Wilson found a place to set his bulk and fell easily into strategy discussions with Doctor Hart. Josie shied away from them only to find herself assaulted by Jude's questioning of Roger McEntyre. She moved on, skirting the periphery of the action, keeping her distance, wanting simply to look at the thing that had wreaked such havoc on Archer's life. She backed away, her gaze skimming over the ride until she found herself staring at Colin Wren through a maze of metal. He was not looking at the Shock & Drop. Rather, Colin was lost in a discussion with Roger McEntyre until, quite suddenly, Colin Wren paused. He pivoted. He felt Josie's curiosity and searched the compound for the source. His eyes were so naked, his hurt so raw, his anger so deep that, when their eyes met, Josie stood accused just by her association with Archer.
Unable to breathe, unable to look at him, Josie ducked out of the housing structure and walked headlong into the mess of people that kept the money coming into Pacific Park.
She charged through the crowd, aware of the lights, the noise, the smiles on the faces of the children she passed. She danced aside when the little girl in front of her dropped a toy made of plastic and wood. Josie bent to pick it up. She put the toy into the girl's palm but forgot to let go.
Ten if she was a day, the girl stirred something in Josie. Maybe it was her eyes, or the set of her jaw, the way her hair was pulled up so that half was caught in a ponytail and the rest hung long down her back. Maybe it was the pretty clothes worn uncomfortably, a tomboy dressed to a mother's specifications. It wasn't until the girl tugged at her toy and Josie let it go that the sense of familiarity became comfortable. The girl ran away and pulled Josie into the past as she did so.
Jolted by the surprising clarity of her memories, Josie sank on to a bench shaped like a daisy and painted the pink of a Hermosa Beach sunset. Swinging her head up she checked out the now dark sky, smiled and waited for the beating of her heart to calm. As memories went, this was a real good one. It was probably the last good one she had of the mother who took a powder when Josie was thirteen.
But that day Josie was eleven and Emily was the perfect mother, doting on her daughter at the Funland. She laughed at Josie's jokes, shared a pizza with her daughter. They sat together on all the rides, close enough for it to feel like they were hugging. They had their picture taken.
They had their picture taken.
Josie put her hands on her knees and thought about that as she pushed off the pink bench. She walked slower, smiling to herself, wondering what happened to that picture. Even now Josie remembered exactly what it looked like: Josie and Emily, their arms flung high, laughing through their screams as the rollercoaster tipped them over the last, terrifying drop. Emily had been dazzled by that picture. Where was the camera? She asked. How had they developed the pictures so quickly? She wondered. Aren't we gorgeous? She cooed and Josie believed that Emily real
ly thought Josie was beautiful, too.
Josie laughed out loud. Kids could convince themselves of anything. Now that she was older Josie knew that day was special because Emily wanted it and not because Josie needed it. Sidestepping two men, oblivious to their admiration, Josie wondered where that picture was. Destroyed? Given away? Lost? Perhaps it was packed away. Maybe Josie would check her dad's stored boxes. Maybe. . .
"Daddy!"
"Hey, lady. Shit, you can't just cut in line. . ."
The expletive was followed by a compelling jab of a sharp elbow. A man in a T-shirt espousing the extermination of mothers-in-law was protecting his turf. Josie looked around, amazed to find herself wedged between people who were standing in line for the roller coaster. She hadn't been on a roller coaster since that day with her mother and Josie had no intention of getting on one of those things again. With muttered mea culpas, Josie pushed through the line and cut left, her eyes still trained on the Perilous Peaks Coaster.
It was a marvel of engineering, as frightening to hear as it was to see. Packed into tiny cars linked in lines of eight, riders were hauled up right angles, shot through double loops, dropped like pinballs down a chute and shot back up to the heavens again. Everyone screamed – everyone – even guys with obnoxious t-shirts. Most held onto the metal lap restraint. That and gravity kept them in their place. Some brave souls raised their arms; others buried their faces in their companion's shoulder. But every face . .
Their faces.
Josie stepped a little closer to the coaster.
Pictures.
Josie's head snapped left, then right and that's when she saw it – the huge board where pictures were posted. Everyone who rode the Perilous Peak Coaster had their picture taken, developed as the cars ground to a halt and posted as they wobbled through the exit. The picture would be taken from two different angles, just the way they were the day Josie and Emily went to Funland. They had been given a choice: one picture shot head on, the other taken from a three quarter view.
Excited by the idea taking root in her brain, Josie minced her step, jockeying to get through a break in the crowd that surged forward toward the interior of the park. She put her hands out to block a woman who had stopped mid-stride then squeezed past her searching for the cameras. Cameras. Josie was positive she would find more than one.
Finally, Josie punched through the crowd and threw herself against the long, low security fence. People were behind her, close to her, around her. They shouted to be heard over the deafening noise of the roller coaster but Josie was oblivious. She was close to the tracks, concentrating on the configuration of the ride. To her right, parallels of steel ribboned over a wooden infrastructure that rose skyward. To Josie's left the track skated into a double loop and, right in front of her, the line of cars plunged into a little valley before shooting up again. Gravity defying. Death defying. Terrifying. Josie leaned on the railing. She heard the shrieks merge into one frantic scream as the cars crested the rise. Before Josie could think, the train of cars whooshed by her leaving a wind in its wake that made her crinkle her eyes against the kick up of dust and dirt. The train was gone as fast as it had come, voices were nothing more than a vapor trail and faces were blurred. Tall enough to keep one foot on the ground, Josie strained as she leaned over the railing. Now only inches away from the track Josie Bates saw what she was looking for: cameras.
There were at least two. One hung high on a light pole on the south side of the ride, the other was mounted on the ground a few yards from her. Pressing her hips tighter against the railing, Josie bent her torso over the top, straining to see into the interior of the structure. Above her she heard the scraping of metal on metal, the grinding of gears. Another train was being towed up the far side of the angled track. There was a hesitation, a gigantic, mechanical stillness, a second when all sound ceased. Then there was a rush of air, the squeal of metal wheels and the cacophony of terror-filled voices. In her peripheral vision Josie saw the car hurtling toward the valley. She couldn't pull back now. There was another camera on the opposite side. Josie had to see if. . .
Suddenly there was nothing but the sound of the train, the blast of air as the cars rushed by and the feeling that she was floating, her feet not quite on the ground. Josie Bates grabbed for the railing and tried to hold on but her fingers slipped off. An arm clamped around her waist, knocking the breath out of her and Josie heard someone growl:
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
***
Archer sat in the jeep. His chin buried in the collar of his jacket, his hands stuck deep into the pockets. The front seat was reclined and the heels of his shoes were on the dash. A flat-white shine came from the incandescent industrial lighting that pocked the parking lot. The night was just beginning and it ticked Archer off royally that he was sitting in the car like a kid waiting for his parents to come fetch him. Dropping his feet he sat up straight, took his hands out of his pockets, and cocked one arm on the door. He stayed that way for a second. In the next he threw open the door, got out of the Jeep and checked out his friend at the gate. The guard was still there.
Idiot.
Archer flipped the door shut. The damn thing sounded tinny compared to the Hummer and it just made Archer all that more irritated. He rested his leg against the fender. It would have been a good time for a cigarette if he still smoked. It was a better time for an idea and he just happened to have one.
Casually Archer moved around the car, snapping the ragtop into place, making sure the guard saw him. He paced the length of the Jeep, feigning boredom. Archer ambled up Aisle E, checked out the cars, stretched his legs, and passed the time. He turned at the end and walked back again, hands in his pockets like a good boy. Archer was within six cars lengths of the Jeep when he saw his opening. The guard at the gate had lost interest in him. A woman with three children had a question; the rent-a-cop had a long-winded answer.
Well and good.
Archer's timing was impeccable as he slipped between two cars and ended up on Aisle D. His pace didn't change; he didn't look over his shoulder to see if the guy at the gate had caught on. Archer was cool and it would take a better man than that imbecile to figure out that he was not in the same place he had been a moment before.
One more time Archer walked the length of the parking aisle, turned to walk back and saw his mark. A van filled with people had just pulled into a space on Aisle C. A casual glance assured him he was not on the guard's radar. Archer made the pass between two mini-vans and landed himself on the next aisle. He was a knight and Pacific Park's parking lot was his chess board: two over and one down, one down and two over. Archer moved methodically, keeping his mind on checkmate, knowing the guard at the employee gate would assume he had climbed back into the car to keep warm. At least that's what Archer was counting on as he looked inside his wallet, puzzling over it just long enough for five kids and two adults to pile out of the van next to him. Chatting and talking, joking and laughing they all headed for the park entrance.
Archer fell into step with them. He knew not to walk ahead or lag too far back. He knew enough to turn his head and smile and look interested in one of the kids like he knew him from way back. Archer also knew enough to back off when said kid looked like he was getting nervous about the big guy with all the bruises hanging a little too close. At the right time Archer broke ranks and was absorbed by the larger crowd congregating near the main entrance. There were enough of them to hide a herd of Archers.
During the next three minutes he waited in line politely, flashed his auto club card, handed over two twenties and was welcomed with a discount admission to Pacific Park.
Archer was in and he was damn well going to stay until he had what he wanted.
CHAPTER 17
"Stunts like that can get you killed. Or, haven't you heard that Pacific Park has a problem with people dying because they do stupid things."
Roger McEntyre let go of Josie Baylor-Bates and stood bac
k. It wasn't far enough. McEntyre was like a wall. Josie couldn't go through him; he wouldn't let her go around. She waited for his signal. It came as he turned and cast a sidelong look that said he expected her to fall in.
"I wasn't that close," Josie objected, wanting some conversation to keep from feeling as if he was leading her to the gallows. "I wasn't going to get hurt unless you count windburn."
"I didn't know you were an expert on what constitutes a danger in a theme park." Roger turned sideways and held out an arm. Josie hesitated, half expecting a trick. Finally she walked ahead, pushing through the migrating mass of people. Roger followed. When she came out on the other side she was alone, surrounded by the crowd but not a part of it.
"It's a movement pattern phenomena," McEntyre said as he joined her. "People move in groups leaving an oasis of space now and again. We can track it, we can manipulate it with the right sounds and smells and the proper placement of an attraction. It keeps people from turning into human bumper cars."
"So all this fun is a science," Josie noted.
"It's a talent of the creator of the park," McEntyre responded, "enhanced by science and common sense."
"I'm not sure I've seen the common sense part."
"Your trick over there by the Perilous Peak? That's a nice little example of the lack of common sense." McEntyre pulled a thumb over his shoulder. Josie looked in that direction briefly but she kept walking.
"Maybe it wasn't the best example for the kids . . ."
"That's an understatement. Didn't your mother ever tell you there's a reason why fences are built?'
"My mother didn't believe in fences," Josie said.
"Mine did," McEntyre said casually. "There is usually a good reason for them. They kept me out where I wasn't welcome, and in where I was. Fences protected me from things that could hurt me."
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