Normally I like boating, but handling Lightning and all her power was a little intimidating, especially at night. It didn’t help that after the rain had cleared up, a strong cold wind had been left behind. I was expecting the boat to launch us over to the next county any second. To make matters worse, every time I tried to slow down, Freddie whacked my arm.
I was dying to demand that he explain himself, but the boat was too loud for actual conversation. Every time I looked over at him, I could see by the light of the dash that he was mouthing the words, Come on. Come on. Come on.
What felt like seconds later, we approached the outskirts of the near-empty town marina by the fill-up stations. Actually the boat had sped so fast, it was possible we had gone back in time … or into the future … however the science worked. I slowed Lightning a good way back from the shore, not wanting to cause a mini tsunami.
“Over there,” Freddie said, pointing to the side of the main docks. “The town put in an extension just for me.”
I flashed him a look then muttered, “Unbelievable.” I turned the wheel, gliding toward the dock. “Now can you tell me why we are here?”
He jumped out of the boat more nimbly than I was used to seeing him move and began tying the front end off. “I know you were being all judgmental earlier with the money I spent on Lightning, but it just so happens that I did invest in some town surveillance.”
“You did?”
“Well, you probably don’t remember this, but Coach Waters had a camera set up on the foul line pole on the old baseball diamond, so that he could tape games and give feedback. But no one has used it in forever—not since they built that new diamond at the school.”
“Okay, I’m following.”
“Well, they took down the cage, but not the pole, and being the surveillance expert that I am, I thought it would be a good idea to buy it from him and have it running all the time, you know, just in case.” Freddie lightly smacked my arm. “I can’t believe I forgot it.”
Hot tingles ran up my back. “Are you being serious, right now?”
“Deadly,” Freddie said before running to tie off the other end. “There was a big fight at the town hall a month ago—you know, Live Free or Die New Hampshire and all that—but after the shenanigans of your last visit, everybody finally agreed that it was a good idea—at least during the fair. I was planning on putting it away for the winter.”
It made sense that the town was willing to get on board. It probably wasn’t just the murder and attempted murders that had happened in the summer. Someone had also started a bonfire and danced around it naked in the town square last time I was home pretending to be me … because that kind of thing happened when I came home.
“I programmed the VCR to tape for thirty-six hours before it starts taping over itself.”
I climbed out of the boat onto the dock to chase after Freddie, who was already hustling away. He wasn’t even watching his steps—that’s how excited he was … or inebriated. I caught up to him and asked, “What kind of VCR can tape for thirty-six hours?”
“A double-cassette time-lapsed one!” he said with implied obviousness. “Look, you don’t need to understand! We just need to move!”
“All right!” I shouted back. “Let’s go then!”
We both jogged a couple hundred feet up the slanted Main Street into town before we slowed to a walk. I obviously needed to get back into running … and Freddie needed to start.
I took a moment to pant before I said, “What are the odds it would have caught anything, though?”
“Did you not hear me?” Freddie gasped. “It’s on that old pole right on the edge of the fairgrounds!” He jogged a few more feet before slowing to a walk again. “It’s the best shot we have. Besides, it’s not like Mr. Masterson was a fast walker. We should be able to see at least a little something of what he was doing before the ride … who he was with … if he was eating or drinking anything.”
My heart pounded even harder in my chest at all that could mean. “I can’t believe you only thought of this now!” I upped my speed-walking pace.
“Hey, I didn’t know we were dealing with a murder until just a few hours ago! Then there was the whole being mad at you. And the beer,” Freddie added, huffing and puffing.
I stopped dead in my tracks when another thought hit me. “I also can’t believe Grady hasn’t thought of this. Was he at the meeting?”
“Of course,” Freddie said, waving me forward. “I’m sure he knows. Then again, it was a pretty wild meeting.”
“This is going to be another one of those things that makes him look bad, and you look good, isn’t it?”
“We don’t have time to worry about your boyfriend’s self-esteem right now!” Freddie shouted as best he could through his panting. “We’ll figure that out once we have the tapes.”
I jogged to catch up with him.
“Besides, how bad do you think it’s going to look when everybody else figures out that there was a video of Mr. Masterson’s killer and all the law enforcement figures in town let it get taped over?”
“Good point.”
Finally, we made it to the crest of the small slope.
“Come on,” Freddie said, waving me over to a heavy steel fence the carnival had put in place. He dropped his chest and belly onto the railing, swung one leg up … and fell over to the other side, landing hard on his back.
“Ow!” he yelled, rolling in the dirt.
“Wait,” I said, suddenly stopping in place. “We’re just breaking into the fair?”
“Um, I don’t see an open ticket booth, do you?” He threw his hands into the air, looking like a flipped turtle. “Get in here.”
“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. Just then a swirl of dried leaves skittered across the pavement by my feet.
“Thirty-six hours, Erica!” Freddie yelled, getting to his feet. “What time is it now?”
“Fine! You’re right.” If my math was correct—which was always questionable—we had only minutes left to lose. I hustled over to the fence and tried Freddie’s move to get over … which ended just as badly. “But so help me,” I said, pushing myself to my feet, “if any clowns jump out at us or … or your pumpkin people, you’re handling it.”
Freddie’s face dropped as his eyes darted about.
“Freddie?”
“That was a really terrible thing to say.” He met my eye. “Why? Why would you say that?”
“Wow, you might need some therapy for your trauma,” I said, yanking his arm. “But not now! We’ve got to go!”
We started running again toward the foul line pole sticking up in the distance. Once we got past the midway, we had to turn into the concessions area. All the little booths cut the path into what felt like a maze, forcing Freddie and me to slow to a fast walk.
“This wind is driving me nuts,” I said, darting a look behind. “Someone could be sneaking up on us, and we’d never hear them coming.”
Freddie nodded. “Or they could be hiding in one of these tents.”
Just then a flap of canvas covering a booth snapped.
We both jumped and clutched each other’s arms.
“Come on,” Freddie said, pulling my elbow. “We just need to get through this cluster, and we’re there.”
We hurried toward the opening that led to the field. The old baseball diamond had been left open for the smash-up derby. Even though it was dark, I could see the wooden pole with the bump at the top that had to be the camera.
“Quick. Let’s go.” I had only jogged a few steps before I realized that Freddie wasn’t with me. “What are you waiting for? Come on.”
Freddie’s body was turned in the opposite direction, toward the cluster of RVs for the carnival workers.
“What are you doing?”
Freddie still didn’t answer, but he was rolling his shoulders.
“What is your deal?” I asked, running over to him.
Just as I made it to his side, I heard him mutter, “And here I thought all the carnies would be tucked snug in their beds.”
I focused my gaze where Freddie was looking between the vehicles. “So they’re having a little bonfire. What’s the big deal? Come on.”
“What’s the big deal? What’s the big deal?” Freddie’s voice rose into the night wind. “Don’t you think it’s a little windy for a fire, Erica?”
“That’s it,” I said sharply. “You can’t drink either anymore. Not when we’re on the job.”
Freddie turned and smiled. “I got tingles when you said that just now.” Then he snapped his attention back to the bonfire.
“Seriously, we don’t have time for this. I’m sure they need a little stress relief after dealing with people … and probably vomit all day. And while we’re on the subject, I don’t think you can call them carnies. It’s—”
Freddie whipped a finger at my face. “Don’t you politically correct me!”
“No booze. No more. Now come on.”
Freddie turned slowly in my direction, eyes trailing behind. “You’re right. We need to—” Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks and pulled back again toward the RVs.
“Freddie!” I shouted after him. “What is your problem now?” I looked back over to the group of people gathered by the fire … and I saw him. “Oh Freddie, no,” I pleaded. I knew it was a lost cause, though, because there standing by the fire, guitar in hand, foot on a cooler, was Rex, the man with the handlebar mustache from the water gun game.
“You go.” Freddie pressed a set of keys into my palm. “Run. I’ve got to bust someone for an illegal bonfire.”
“Freddie, no. I can’t let you go over there alone.”
“We don’t have time to argue.”
I hopped angrily on the spot for a few times. “This is nuts! Leave it. We have to—”
“Tick-tock, Erica,” he said, hiking up his pants. “I would hurry. That VCR could be taping over Mr. Masterson’s murderer as we speak.”
“Gah! Don’t get killed!” I then spun and ran for the box, yelling behind me, “This may be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, Freddie.”
It was hard to hear what he said in return, but if I had to guess, it was something about the curse of the lawman.
Light was coming from weird angles—streetlamps, the RVs, not-too-distant houses—so it was hard to see the grass in front of me. I moved as quickly as I could without risking an ankle break on a discarded beer can. When I finally made it over to the pole, I crouched to look at the old wooden cupboard with rusted padlock anchored at the bottom.
I fumbled through the keys Freddie had given me, trying to find one even close to the size I needed for the lock. The dark wasn’t helping much. Neither was the wind. It was starting to freak me out again. I glanced up from the lock to make sure I was alone, then got right back to fiddling.
A moment later I found the right key and snapped it into place, but when I tried to turn it, the tumblers wouldn’t budge. “Come on. Come on,” I muttered. I jiggled the key around some more. I didn’t want to snap off the body in the lock. It needed just an ounce more of press—
Click!
“Yes!” I lifted the padlock off and threw it on top of the box.
I dropped to my knees to get a better look at what was inside. Well, would you look at that. Perhaps I didn’t give Freddie enough credit—or Coach Waters. Someone had jerry-rigged a Tupperware container to protect the VCR from the elements. I snapped the lid off. The glowing numbers of the timer were counting up. That was good. At least it was working. I scanned the front but couldn’t read anything in the dark, so I began hitting random buttons around where I thought the eject control might be. A second later the machine made a clunk, then a whine, then spit a cassette out … and then another.
I inhaled deeply, looking at the tapes in my hand, sending out a mental prayer to the powers that be.
I slipped the cassettes into the inner pocket of the coat I had borrowed from Freddie. Men’s jackets had way better pockets then women’s. I closed the box’s doors and slipped the lock back in place. I almost had it snapped shut when—
“Erica?”
“Wah!” I jumped up and spun in the air so quickly I don’t think my feet touched the ground. “Matthew?”