CAROLINE BENNETT CREPT into the police chief’s office and pulled the chain on the light bulb hanging over the rusty filing cabinets in the corner. She booted up the laptop and pushed the power button on the document scanner she’d borrowed from the Starlight Point IT department. All the usual sounds of the amusement park—yells of excitement, midway games and the roar of roller coasters—were eerily absent late at night and the quiet added to the sensation she was doing something wrong.
She pulled open the top drawer labeled 1970–1973. Hanging file folders were labeled by month and year, with bits of paper sticking out of some. She took out the January 1970 folder and placed its single yellowed paper on the scanner’s glass.
While she waited for the blue light to capture the document, she slid open the bottom drawer and took out the July 1985 folder. Caroline glanced over her shoulder before opening it.
She found several smaller manila folders labeled Employee Issues, Dispatcher’s Log, Misdemeanors. The fourth folder was labeled Loose Cannon. She opened it and discovered it was completely empty.
“Caroline.”
She jumped and turned to the door.
“Sorry,” the night dispatcher said. “I thought I’d just walk in here and tell you instead of putting it over the radio.”
“That’s okay,” Caroline said. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. “Is there a call?”
“One of the night cleaners reported seeing a possible trespasser enter the construction zone for the new ride.”
“I’ll go right over,” Caroline said. She shoved the July 1985 folder back into the drawer and closed it.
“Want me to scan some of this old stuff? Nothing’s more boring than night shift. Nothing ever happens.”
“No,” Caroline said quickly. She smiled and tried to sound appreciative. “It’s my way of trying to get on the chief’s good side so he’ll recommend me for the police academy this fall.”
“If you make it through all that old crap,” the dispatcher said, nodding at the filing cabinets, “you’ll deserve a badge.”
Caroline shut down the scanner and laptop and sped out the door.
She crossed the midway, a wide avenue lined with shops and food stands on both sides, and checked the gate in the fence surrounding the construction area. Still locked. That meant the trespasser must have entered through one of the other four gates.
The new ride wouldn’t open for almost a year, and there was no spectacular coaster track visible, but management wanted to protect the construction site. Crews were busy leveling and stabilizing the ground, pouring concrete footers and laying the groundwork for the first new ride Starlight Point had built in three years.
And it would be a doozy. A combined kiddie coaster looping in and out of the track of a high-speed thrill coaster. Something for everyone, but still top secret until the big media reveal planned for later in the summer.
“Hold it right there,” she said. The words were out of her mouth before she’d even focused on the moving shadow in front of her. “Hands where I can see them.”
She pulled a flashlight off her belt and lit up the suspect. The suspect’s back. He wore loose fitting jeans, a T-shirt and a hard hat.
A hard hat? Not many trespassers donned safety equipment. If he was a worker on the site, what was he doing there at midnight?
“Don’t shoot,” the man said. “The only thing I have on me is a cell phone and a case of insomnia.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Worrying,” he said.
“You’re in a restricted area. You’ll have to worry somewhere else. I need to ask you to come with me.”
The man turned around, hands in the air, and faced Caroline. She kept her flashlight on him, even though he didn’t look dangerous. He had a blond crew cut and a big smile. Broad shoulders. Exposed biceps with his hands in the air. “You got coffee where we’re going?”
“This isn’t a coffee break. I’m arresting you.”
“Can you do that?” he asked.
“Of course I can,” she said. Irritation tightened the muscles in her jaw. “I’m a member of the Starlight Point Police Department.”
He laughed and put his hands down. “I didn’t mean to challenge your authority. I just wondered if you made a habit of arresting people who are legitimately working.”
“At midnight?”
He shrugged. “Job never rests.”
Caroline lowered her flashlight so it wasn’t hitting him square in the face. “Explain yourself.”
“Formal greeting first,” he said. He held out his hand, but Caroline didn’t take it. “Matt Dunbar. Construction engineer on the Super Star and Shooting Star project.”
“Shh,” Caroline said, looking around. “You’re not supposed to use the official name. Someone might hear.”
“Sorry,” he said. He leaned closer and whispered, “Matt Dunbar, construction engineer on the nameless mystery project opening next May. I hope.”
Caroline let her shoulders relax but didn’t let down her guard. He still hadn’t explained himself. Not really, anyway.
“That’s enough,” Caroline said. “Tell me why you’re here at midnight. I don’t see any of your crew, and I didn’t think there was nighttime construction going on.”
“Couldn’t sleep, so I walked over.” He gave up on the handshake and put both hands in his pockets.
“Walked?”
Starlight Point was on a peninsula jutting into Lake Huron with a long bridge providing nearly the only access. No one walked to Starlight Point. They either caught the ferry or drove over. Caroline narrowed her eyes. His story was not holding water so far.
“From the campout. My company sponsored a tent and I drew one of the lucky tickets to stay over tonight.”
Of course Caroline knew about the campout. It was the reason she was working an overnight shift. With a five-hundred-dollar donation to a local charity, groups of four could pitch a tent and stay on the Western Trail overnight. They’d get VIP treatment when the park opened in the morning.
“You’re here for the coaster campout?”
“It sounded like a good idea at the time. Stay the night, campfire breakfast and coasters at first light before the crowds get here. Nice donation to local