“He took nothing,” Folsom said. “I’ve been trying to find the vehicle since he left the hospital, but other than that first probably three minutes it took for him to drive out of town, park, and then disable the LoJack, I haven’t been able to find him since. Though he did steal a nurse’s wallet, at least we think it’s him. He withdrew five hundred dollars at the first ATM he came to about five minutes outside of the hospital. He could get pretty much anywhere he wants off of five hundred dollars and a stolen vehicle. Though, by now, he’s for sure switched from the cruiser. That’s too easy to spot.”
“That would be my thought process as well,” Coffey muttered. “Did he have the chick’s pin number or something? That’s generally a thing you can’t do—withdraw cash—without that. At least not easily.”
“She said it was a brand-new card, and she had the pin number stupidly written on a Post-It note on the front of it,” Folsom explained.
“Sounds like possibly she’s too naive to be owning a debit card if it’s a new one,” I heard Val mutter. “But also, probably, she shouldn’t be a nurse, either, if she can’t even manage to handle a debit card.”
I, for once, agreed with Val.
This woman sounded kind of airhead-esque.
“By my best guess, if he were to be heading this way, it would take him at least four hours,” Keene said. “Though I think we need to prepare, I also hate to admit this, but we still have a job to do. One that has already started. Val, go. You’re late for your booth. Simi, if you’re okay with it, I can have Melinda tag along behind you.”
“No way,” Simi quickly denied. “Not happening. I’m not going anywhere near the Fun House.”
Ah, that made sense.
She and the Fun House definitely didn’t get along.
Not that I blamed her. I mean, it was traumatic at any time when your mother died. But when your mother died in such a tragic way, and you had to see or experience that place, she died every single day in such a negative way. Yeah, I didn’t blame her at all.
“What’s Melinda got to do with the Fun House?” I asked curiously.
“All right, folks, I’ll call for an update. My girl needs me.” Then Folsom was gone.
“I didn’t say that you had to get into the Fun House,” Keene promised. “I know that’s a hard limit for you. But seriously, you have to be protected tonight. Your man’s manning the kitchen. Everyone else is already stretched thin, having to cover your show as well as Mary’s duties. Plus, we had three call in sick with the flu. We seriously can’t spare anyone tonight. I’m sorry. If I had another choice, I’d give it to you.”
Zip came up to my side and answered my earlier question. “Melinda is the chick that runs the Fun House. But she’s six foot seven, two hundred and ninety pounds, and made of muscle. You’ve probably seen her.”
Now that she’d described her, I had.
The last time I’d noticed her, she’d been testing the stretch capacity of the dress she’d been in.
“Fine,” Simi grumbled. “But if I have nightmares tonight, it’s your fault.”
“I know.” Keene sounded regretful. “Now, everyone, get back to work.”
I walked Simi to Melinda to ensure that she got there, as well as so I could get the lay of the land.
Though the Fun House was within sight when we spotted Melinda, it wasn’t too close, and Simi breathed a sigh of relief.
I handed Simi her balloons, and she sighed when she was immediately bombarded with kids.
“Oh, balloon!” a tiny little one said.
“Call me immediately if you need me,” I ordered.
She nodded, eyes serious. “If I need you, I’ll call.”
Satisfied with her promise, I once again looked for Melinda.
Melinda was already snaking her way toward us, and I peeled off from Simi after a squeeze of her hand and offered my hand to Melinda.
Melinda reached out with the biggest hands I’d ever seen tipped with bloodred nails the size of small daggers and said, “It’s nice to finally be introduced to the cook. I enjoyed the chicken salad for lunch today.”
I grinned. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Melinda said in a “not sure that should’ve been coming out of someone so large,” sugary-sweet voice. “I will not let her out of my sight.”
I nodded, blowing out a relieved breath. “She’s kind of fragile right now. If you could be aware with the Fun House…”
Melinda nodded and gestured toward it. “I have a trainee that’s running it for me tonight. That’s why I’m so far away right now. I’m giving him room to breathe.”
After a little more talking and assurances on Melinda’s end, I reluctantly headed back to the food trailer.
It was an hour and a half later when I saw the first sign of my old team show up.
The first to show was Autry. The only reason I’d spotted him is he was holding one of those big-ass balloons that Simi had been carrying, and it was lit up and illuminating his head, which was leaps and bounds above the rest of the group.
Autry was six foot four, two hundred and forty pounds. He was big but not overly bulky. He had mocha-colored skin from his mom’s side, light-gray eyes from his dad’s, and an overall excited demeanor that really drew you into his orbit if he wanted you there.
He walked right up to the food truck and said in a pleading tone, “Do you have anything to share?”
I snorted out a laugh. “Dinner is ready if you want to eat now. No need for a snack.”
His eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store, and he held out his hands, opening and closing them in a “give me” gesture.
I gave him his plate of fajitas, and he groaned.
“What about me, boss?”
I looked down to see it was Merritt, the little guy that was about three feet tall, who had asked.
“Yep, you can eat, too,” I said as I went back for Merritt’s plate.
Pushing it out of the window, I said, “Autry, will you hand this off to Merritt?”
“You remember my name?” Merritt asked as Autry did just that.
“I’m working on it,” I admitted. “You’re easier than most because…”
“Because I’m the tiniest dude here, and it’s easy to remember a short person?” he asked.
I snorted. “No, because my dad’s middle name was Merritt.”
Merritt grinned and waved. “Thanks, boss.”
“Colorful,” Autry said around a bite full of a fajita. “Goddamn. I can’t believe I forgot how much I liked your food.”
I rolled my eyes and got more plates set up and placed under the warmer.
One by one, the crew came and got their food.
Over the next thirty minutes, every single one of the crew members showed up except for the family and Melinda, the woman watching Simi.
The rest of my old team all showed up, too.
Everyone was fed and laughing at a picnic table, me leaning against it when Keene finally showed.
He wore his ringmaster costume—a tight black and gold number that would’ve looked ridiculous on a man if he wasn’t as muscular as Keene—and walked right toward the food trailer.