Katie stared bullets at him. “You trapped those men. I watched you.”

  The man sized up her challenging stance.

  “That’s debatable, miss. I see it as keeping this park friendly to families. And keeping the streets free of godda—er, low-lifes.”

  “I see your language is on par with your ethics.” Katie frowned. “But these are just working men—probably from Hell’s Kitchen or the Bowery or someplace worse. They’re just having some fun.”

  “Now, Miss Katie Silver, why don’t you let me worry about keeping the park clean—while you worry about keeping the attractions you design safe?”

  Katie was startled. “You know who I am. Who are you?”

  “Jake Corrigan, park security at your service.” Corrigan went to tip his hat, forgetting that it was lost somewhere on the track. “I actually only recently learned your name, through some detective work. And by reading a story on you in the Brooklyn Eagle. Before that, you were just my favorite strawberry blonde. Admired à la distance, as the Frenchies say.”

  Blushing in spite of herself, Katie pretended to wave away the compliment.

  “What happened on that ride just now?” she demanded.

  “Loose front wheel. Not to mention a complete brake failure.”

  Katie shook her head. “At the same time? You know the odds of that happening?”

  “If I were a betting man, I’d say the odds were terrible,” Corrigan said thoughtfully. “Almost looks like one of us isn’t doing their job.…”

  Chapter 9

  Coney Island, 2017

  “Hey, lady, get yer beauty sleep somewhere else.”

  Katie woke with a rude jolt. Though blinded by the early morning sunlight, she quickly pieced together that she was stretched out on a dirty park bench, she was freezing, and she had the worst hangover she’d had in at least seventy-two hours.

  As she pulled herself up, the tired-looking cop standing over her took a startled step back.

  “Katie! I didn’t realize it was you.”

  “No worries, Tyrell,” she sighed. “I know I’m working a serious bag lady look.”

  “On a stakeout, huh? What are ya lookin’ for?”

  “My dignity,” Katie muttered wryly. “See ya, Ty.”

  She stretched and made her way as steadily as possible down the boardwalk. She wondered how long it would take for word of her sleeping on a bench to ricochet around the park. About as fast as the Cyclone at top speed, Katie assumed. Immediately, she had a flash of something plunging downhill at a furious pace. But it wasn’t the roller coaster. It was smaller, and it wasn’t a cart. It was a…mechanical horse. Katie stopped dead. The old Steeplechase horse race. Yet she had never been on that ride, or even seen it. In fact, the horse ride had closed long before she was born—so why would it come to her mind? Suddenly, everything came back to her: the bright jockey suits, the gamblers…and the suspicious accident. Another weird dream.

  “Maybe I need to start writing this stuff down,” she mused. “Although at this point, I really don’t know if I could handle what a dream analysis would reveal. Ignorance has its upside.…”

  In serious need of a kick start, she went over to the new coffee shop, only to find that it wasn’t yet open.

  “Fate seems intent on keeping us apart, Java Joint,” she lamented.

  Looking down the walk, she spied a small diner with a shabby sign that read NIKOS’S CAFÉ. The front door was invitingly propped open.

  Inside, Nikos himself was frying up bacon, eggs, and peppers. Katie determined this from the aroma, not from any visual evidence: the cook’s massive 350-pound frame blocked her entire view of his kitchen. He lumbered around and gave Katie a grim top-to-bottom once-over.

  “You look awful, Katie. Absolute shit.” He frowned. “Bad night?”

  Katie slumped onto a counter stool. “Bad night. Bad week. Bad year. Bad century.”

  Nikos shuffled his weight around and reached under his counter for a first aid kit. From inside he pulled out a bottle of aspirin, a small bottle of whiskey, and a smaller bottle of Tabasco sauce.

  “Gonna mix this up with a raw egg. You’ll be okay.”

  “Thanks, Nik. My head is pounding. I’ve been overdoing it,” she confessed. “And paying the price with some crazy, weird, what-the-hell-was-that? dreams.”

  As Nikos concocted his miracle cure, Katie picked up a greasy pen and began doodling on one of the counter place mats.

  “Nightmares, eh?”

  Katie thought a moment. “No, not exactly. Just very strange, very involved and detailed dreams—like I was watching a movie. And so much of it seems so familiar.…”

  Katie blinked her eyes and stared at Nikos. “Like the fact that you were in one of my dreams! I remember it so clearly. But you had a handlebar mustache.”

  “Huh. Was I any thinner?”

  “You were life-size, Nik.”

  Nikos shrugged with resignation. Katie closed her eyes, downed the aspirin with the cook’s potion, and shook her head violently as it burned its way down her throat. Opening her eyes, she glanced at what she had been unconsciously doodling: a quickly but vividly rendered sketch of the mechanical horses on the roller coaster track. Katie picked up the sketch and stared. Shaking her head clear, she made toward the door.

  “You’re life-size and a lifesaver, Nik!”

  “Get some sleep,” he called after her. “And if I can’t be skinny in your dreams, make me rich!”

  Katie paused to breathe in the morning air. She looked into the distance at the Cyclone roller coaster, elegantly framed against the shimmering rising sun. At its base, a lone figure in repairman overalls was moving along the track.

  Jogging as much as she was able in her present condition, Katie approached the wiry-looking man from behind as he bent over to pick something up off the ground.

  “Lose a contact lens?”

  The gray-haired man whipped around and gave Katie a mock stern look.

  “Don’t need ’em. I got perfect vision, Miss Katie Silver,” he said, looking her over. “And I can clearly see that you ain’t doin’ so good.”

  “Oh, I’m okay, Mr. Billy Silver,” she said. “Find anything interesting?” She looked into his canvas bag.

  “Oh, lots of sunglasses. People always forget to take off their sunglasses. Look: are these frames solid gold? Probably cost more than I made last year. Once I found someone’s false teeth.”

  Katie sifted through the bag and pulled out a loose bolt. She looked questioningly at her father.

  “Sure, bolts come loose. But the Cyclone is safe, Katie,” Billy protested. “Still the best ride in the world. And the scariest! But safe.”

  Katie was touched by the pride in her father’s voice and took his arm. Together they slowly walked along the perimeter of the track and gazed up at the soaring steelwork.

  “I’ve walked these tracks nearly every day for thirty-nine years,” he said. “We’ve never had a bad accident until the other night. That poor young man, everything ahead of him. And his poor parents. There’s nothing worse than a parent losing a child, Katie. Nothing.”

  He pulled her in for a hug. Katie blinked back her tears.

  “I don’t know. The other way around would be the end of it for me.”

  “Oh, no,” Billy muttered, gently pushing her back. “I ain’t going anywhere. Not for a long time.”

  As Katie gave him a quick peck, she looked over his shoulder and saw Frankie, the rookie officer, jogging toward her.

  “Oh, no. Tell me something good this time, Frankie,” she implored.

  “Sorry, Silver. Another one,” said the winded cop. “The Water Chutes.”

  Chapter 10

  She was so tiny that she looked like a bird perched on a branch. A weightless sparrow buffeted by the rising morning breeze.

  But as Katie rushed closer it was clear that the girl wasn’t perched—she was barely hanging on to a bar at the top of the sky-high Water Chutes attraction. Twelve stories up, the chutes spouted streams of water down four slides from one central starting point.

  Below, the crowd pointed toward the distraught child and looked around anxiously, confused: it seemed that nothing was being done to help her.

  Katie barreled through the mass of people, past a group of boys with skateboards. Their curly-haired leader tauntingly shouted up at the little girl, “Jump! Go for it!”

  Katie shoved him out of her way and shouted at him, “Remind me to kick your punk ass!”

  A hefty lone security officer was yelling into his radio and desperately looking around for backup.

  “What happened, Spevak?” Katie barked.

  “I don’t know! She’s just hanging up there! Where the fuck is the rest of the security detail?”

  Katie flashed in anger, “Why the fuck aren’t you up there?”

  Spevak miserably hung his head. “I can’t deal with heights, Katie. I choke.”

  She heaved past the guard and raced up the winding tunnel that took attendees to the start of the slides. Racing to the top, Katie saw that the little girl was dangling between the mouth of the chute and the slide itself; somehow her foot had gotten caught in a tarp and her leg was now badly twisted. The child was grasping a bar on the side of the slide. Katie quickly ascertained that if the girl let go, the tarp probably wouldn’t hold her weight, and she’d fall along the side of the slide. Twelve stories down.

  Katie climbed over a metal holding fence and slowly started creeping over to the little girl, who had ribbons on her pigtails—a detail that stood out in contrast to the look of terror on the child’s face.

  “Hold on, sweetie. I’m coming, okay?” she said as soothingly as possible.

  “It broke—something broke! My arm is so tired,” the girl sobbed.

  As Katie crawled forward, she glanced down at a support beam that ran under the lip of the chute to the slide; it had a diagonal crack from one end to the other. The side that was attached to the floor base was about to break away completely. Almost immediately, another image came crashing into Katie’s consciousness. She saw the same wooden beam—but now detached and held in her own hands. And someone was trying to pull it away from her. The vivid, jarring image came and went in a flash—as fleeting as it was meaningless.

  Katie shook her mind clear and focused on the task at hand. Carefully shifting her weight away from the beam, Katie reached out and took hold of the girl’s leg.

  “I’m Katie. What’s your name, honey?”

  “D-Daisy. Daisy Cheung. I want to get down!”

  Steadying herself with the same bar that Daisy clasped, Katie had to work the tarp off the child’s leg using only one hand. It was slow going, and the girl’s arm was beginning to tremble with fatigue.

  “I almost have it, Daisy. Just stretch your foot out for me for a second.”

  Katie pulled the last of the tarp off Daisy’s foot with a triumphant “Ta-da!”

  But by releasing Daisy’s tie to the chute, her body was left swinging free. The crowd below screamed as the girl dangled out over the pool…and then released her grip.

  Chapter 11

  It was pure reflex. As Daisy’s body started its free fall, Katie threw her arm out and over her. She had to roughly knock the poor girl in the midsection, but she managed to shove Daisy back over the slide. Then Katie launched her body over Daisy’s…and the two went headfirst down the slide.

  Katie did her best to cover Daisy’s face as they plowed through the choking water. She was vaguely aware of the mob below, shouting in alarm as the two picked up velocity. It seemed an eternity before they finally slammed into the pool of cold water below, where they instantly broke apart.

  Wildly kicking her feet, Katie shot to the surface and, gasping for breath, she looked around desperately for Daisy. She panicked when the girl was nowhere in sight, but suddenly a figure burst up out of the water. It was a boy—the curly-headed skater dude—clasping Daisy against his chest. With a killer breaststroke, he swam the child over to the side of the pool, where a multitude of arms pulled them out.

  Relieved and exhausted, Katie started to make her way over to the side but winced as a jolt of pain pierced her left shoulder. As she struggled to reach the pool’s edge, more arms shot forward to hoist her out of the chilly water. Two of them belonged to Mickey Shears.

  “You all right?” Shears cried.

  “I’m fine. How’s Daisy?” Katie asked as she struggled to stand.

  “Whoa, take it easy, Katie. The little girl is all right.”

  He gestured over to where Daisy was sobbing in the arms of her mother. Daisy’s father hovered over the two of them and then looked at Katie from across the jostling crowd. He pressed his hands together and mouthed, “Thank you.”

  Katie smiled and nodded. But as she again tried to get up, her legs gave out. Shears crouched down, pulled off his coat, and wrapped it around her. She winced as he brushed her injured shoulder.

  “You are not moving till the ambulance gets here. That’s an order from your boss.”

  Giving in, Katie pulled the coat tighter around her and tried to catch her breath.

  “That was brave as hell, lady. You deserve a raise.”

  Katie gave him a look. “That won’t amount to much if the park is only going to be around for another few weeks.”

  Shears frowned but had to sigh in agreement. Katie leaned forward intently.

  “Mr. Shears, a beam up there has a crack in it that must be almost three feet long, right in plain view,” she said breathlessly. “That little girl didn’t cause it. It’s not possible. How could an inspection miss that?”

  Shears looked up at the ride worriedly. “Katie, the attractions are inspected at least weekly. We’ll get to the bottom of it. But for now, let’s just—”

  “Just what?” Katie demanded.

  Shears put his hands on her shoulders to calm her. “Let’s keep this…quiet. It will be fully investigated, but after the Cyclone the other night, we don’t want to cause any unnecessary…”

  Katie gave him a dumbfounded look. “You’re worried about publicity—the sale of the park! Not about the public’s safety.”

  “That isn’t true,” Shears said tersely. “We’ve known each other a long time, Katie. Have you ever known or heard of me acting unethically or unprofessionally?”

  Katie shook her head no and Shears gave her a pointed look.

  “Because I’ve heard some rumors lately, Katie,” he said. “And they don’t reflect well on your behavior. At all.”

  “Mr. Shears—” Katie began to protest but was cut off by the wail of an approaching ambulance. It screeched to a stop near them.

  “Don’t worry. I have a lot of trust in you, Katie,” Shears said as he took her hand. “Can you please give me the same?”

  A paramedic jumped out and began pushing a gurney over to them.

  “I’m okay,” Katie protested. “I don’t need to get on that.” She struggled at first but was so weak that she collapsed with resignation. “All right. I give up,” she said with a look at Shears. “And I do trust you. But one thing I’d like to ask.”

  “Name it, Katie.”

  “Buy that curly-haired juvenile delinquent a drink.…”

  And with that, she was out cold.

  Chapter 12

  Coney Island, 1907

  “Whiskey, neat. With a warm milk chaser.”

  The surly bartender stared first at Corrigan and then at the pink-blanketed bundle in his arms. A gurgle and whimper sounded from inside the cloak, so Corrigan began patting its back and rocking from side to side.

  “Some joke, bud,” the bartender snarled. “Get that kid outta here.”

  Ignoring the directive, Corrigan gently set the baby down on the counter and began toying with an empty beer glass.

  “Looking for a mug that comes here to lose money. Sharky Moon.”

  “Never heard of him.” The bartender leaned forward and poked a finger in Corrigan’s face. “Now get that bawlin’ brat outta my bar!”

  Corrigan shrugged in acquiescence and started to push back from the bar—and then slammed the beer mug against the side of the bartender’s head. The man went facedown on the counter. Corrigan grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head up.

  “Looking for a mug that comes here to lose money,” Corrigan patiently repeated. “Sharky Moon.”

  The bartender dazedly pointed upward. Corrigan let the man’s head fall back down and scooped up the infant.

  After quietly mounting the stairs, Corrigan stopped at the end of a short hallway. He cocked his ear and listened outside a door. Using his heel, he kicked the door open to reveal an intense poker game under way inside.

  “Deal us in, boys! My partner has a full allowance to drop,” Corrigan said with a provoking snarl as he sauntered into the room, babe in arms.

  The three gamblers—including Moon—were startled at the incongruous sight. The oldest, grizzliest gambler was not amused and nodded to the youngest. “Toss ’em out that window, Ned. Both of ’em.”

  “He’s got a gun under that jacket, Josh,” Moon warned.

  The lanky Ned and his solidly built pal Josh jumped up and grabbed Corrigan. The younger man reached into Corrigan’s jacket and pulled out the gun.

  “Lemme do the honors!” Moon squealed as he grabbed for the pistol. He waved it around Corrigan’s face and then positioned it directly against the other man’s forehead.

  “I would not do that if I were you,” Corrigan sighed.

  “Well, you ain’t me,” Moon said, snickering. “So I am gonna do it.”

  The con man dramatically pulled back the trigger and…click. Empty.

  “That’s why I wouldn’t,” Corrigan said, snickering back. “Wish you’d believe I have your best interests at heart, Moon.”

  Even though he was juggling the child, Corrigan kicked directly into Moon’s kneecap, causing him to buckle forward and crumple to the floor with a yelp of pain. As Ned and Josh lunged, Corrigan deftly reached into the baby’s blanket and pulled out another gun. The boys immediately stumbled back, Ned stepping on the already howling Moon’s hand. Without taking his gun off the duo, Corrigan set the baby down on a chair.