Anxiety sat heavy in the air, especially with the protestations of the crowd growing louder, buzzing in the background of their thoughts.

  Jacinda stepped in beside him. “Detective Griff and I agree we should talk to everyone. This is a closed environment, so we should be able to cover a lot of ground in a short time. Griff’s been gracious enough to provide a full list of circus employees the department obtained from the circus owner yesterday, and we’ll cover them faster if we split up.”

  Once again, she tapped her tablet. “I’m sending a list to you now. Three columns of suspects, so three two-agent teams to do the questioning. Vance and I will take the first column. The four of you can split up to take columns two and three. Any questions?”

  Leo pulled up the list of circus employees, ensuring he had the file on his device before straightening up to talk to the three remaining women and see how they’d pair up.

  Before he could say a word, Emma grabbed Denae’s elbow. “Let’s go.” She waved at Mia and Leo. “We’ve got column two!”

  Emma’s light-brown ponytail swung back and forth as she walked away.

  Mia offered him Leo wide, dimpled smile as she pulled her coat tighter around her thin form. Her dimples might open up any number of tight lips. “Looks like it’s you and me with column three, Agent Ambrose.”

  Leo gave Mia his best smile. “Fine by me.” He glanced at column three. “First name on the list is Jamie Hearn, resident contortionist.”

  “You know…” Mia started and then paused, making sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “Agent Last’s on high-octane fuel at all times. They just paired off automatically. Don’t take it personally.”

  So she’d seen the snub too. Leo made sure to keep his smile in place. “No worries. I’m glad to be here, and we’re the new agents on the D.C. team, right? Natural that we’d pair up. Ready to get started?”

  Mia nodded and tucked her black hair behind her ears.

  He slipped his tablet back into his bag and gestured beyond the tent to a nearby group of circus employees. The group had been lingering on the outskirts of the main tent for a while, drinking coffee and observing his team’s briefing. Leo ignored the pointed suspicion in their gazes as they approached. He turned on his most charming smile.

  “I’m Special Agent Leo Ambrose, and this is Special Agent Mia Logan. We have routine questions for each of you. The first person on our list is a Mr. Jamie Hearn. Could you tell us where to find him?”

  Leo stopped there, hoping the employees would cooperate. He imagined they’d have no reason not to at this early point, but sometimes people were feisty.

  A man with grease on his hands and a cigarette dangling from his mouth nodded toward two refreshment stands opposite the direction Jacinda and Vance had headed. “You go beyond those stands, look for the camper painted with brown and red stripes. That’s Jamie’s. He’s pretty broken up about Kyle, so he’s been keeping to himself. You should find him there.”

  Mia thanked the man, nodding to the greased-up worker and the others in turn. Their smiles seemed to get brighter when she did. The power of dimples in action.

  Leo might just let her do the talking next time. A head or so shorter than he, she was less likely to read as threatening. No small thing when they were on the hunt for a murderer.

  He offered his own quiet thanks and followed Mia in search of a striped camper. He took in the attractions and tents they passed, noting the shuttered stands that normally would’ve held games, junk food, and tickets to a whole variety of shows.

  The circus was losing serious money right now, but Leo appreciated that the owner had shut things down. Assuming their investigation found no ulterior motive for that decision, there was something to be said for the man’s willingness to be proactive.

  Soon, they’d have a better feel for the setup of the circus. It appeared run-down but had, by all accounts, been successful enough. They’d have to find out whether all these employees considered themselves a team, though. Or gauge how much strife there might be.

  “You see the folks watching us, right?” Mia nodded toward a tent flap opened just enough for two faces to peer through. “Normal suspicion, you think?”

  “We’re outsiders.” Leo smiled in the direction of the open flap as they passed but received no acknowledgment from those on the other side. “I worked a scene on the outskirts of a tattoo exposition a few years ago. Bunch of artists who traveled together, city to city, showing off their art and doing tattoos. Getting a word in edgewise with any of them was a nightmare.”

  Mia chuckled. “You solve the case?”

  “Without their help.”

  “Well, these folks lost three of their own.” Mia waved to a woman carrying oversize stuffed animals, and although it took her a moment, the woman nodded back as she passed. “I hope they’ll be more helpful.”

  “The two of us’ll keep smiling until they are.”

  Realistically, Leo expected this would be a different situation. A circus family was insular, like an FBI team. They learned to trust, discovered one another’s quirks, and navigated sensitive situations.

  Mia gestured down a side lane to a dented trailer older than the two agents combined. “They said Jamie’s camper is red-and-brown striped, right? That trailer could be described like that, but it’s got so much rust. Probably not what they meant, though, huh?”

  Leo scanned the old vehicle. “I feel like I need a tetanus shot just looking at it.” He gave an exaggerated shiver and kept moving forward. “Or maybe I just need a real meal. I can feel the aroma of popcorn and funnel cake soaking into my skin.”

  Mia’s light laugh sounded free and relaxed, assuring him the two of them were gaining some ease with each other. Maybe it was a stroke of luck that Emma had partnered off with Denae automatically. Mia was easy to connect with.

  He knew Mia’s comment about Emma being high octane had been meant to soothe ruffled feathers, avoiding any strife, but Mia didn’t know him yet. His feathers rarely got ruffled. Leo understood that two agents who already knew each other would choose to work together.

  Besides that, he was happy to be partnered with Mia. She’d worked with the Richmond BAU until recently, so he didn’t doubt her intelligence or professionalism for even a second.

  Together, they had a case to solve. He’d get to solving High-Octane Emma later.

  7

  Emma continued watching for the dead.

  In her growing experience, they could appear anywhere but tended to linger closest to places with meaning for them. Mrs. Kellerly, for example, generally stuck to her apartment, except when she was breaking into Emma’s. Well, not so much breaking but definitely entering.

  Nothing so far.

  She and Denae headed toward the outskirts of the circus, where they’d been told they might find the Weavers. The couple was first on their list. As they were a pair of professional fire-breathers, Emma guessed they might’ve been close to the pyrotechnic clown.

  Emma preferred fire-breathers to fortune tellers and had done a quick scan of the interview list to check for one. She’d found only one named, an Esther Payne. To Emma’s great relief, the fortune teller wasn’t listed in her and Denae’s allotment of suspects. Most of the time, fortune tellers were frauds and hucksters, but Murphy’s Law might’ve had Emma finding the one person in the circus with one foot in the afterlife, or the Other, as Mrs. Kellerly phrased it.

  That was the last thing Emma needed.

  Perhaps she’d talk to someone she trusted about her ability to speak to the dead. She doubted a fortune teller fit the bill. Then again, maybe that was narrow-minded of her. If people knew about this, maybe they’d think of her as a type of psychic or medium. Or maybe they’d think she was just plain nuts.

  When Emma and Denae reached the outskirts of the circus, they found only one tween girl and a horse corral. The girl was brushing an Appaloosa lovingly, but Emma saw no sign of the fire-breathing Weaver couple.

  “Must’ve made a wrong turn.” But Denae approached the young girl anyway.

  “Hi, there.” Emma waved to catch the girl’s attention. “I’m Special Agent Emma Last with the FBI, and this is Special Agent Denae Monroe. We’re looking for Billy and Betty Weaver.”

  The girl glanced between them, stepping down from the footstool she’d used to reach her horse’s back. She was tiny, maybe eleven or twelve years old. Her eyes were a brilliant green, smart and observant, making her appear ever-so-slightly older.

  “I’m Bunny Weaver, their daughter.” Bunny patted the horse’s neck. “Gray doesn’t like the fire, so we keep her away from my parents when they’re practicing. But I’m glad to take you there. You’re here about Penelope? And Dennis and Kyle?”

  “Yes, we are.” Denae gestured to the horse. “May I?”

  Bunny offered a wide smile. “She likes her neck stroked. I’m the circus’s trick rider. You should see us go.”

  “I bet you’re impressive.” Denae gave the horse a few long strokes, as did Emma beside her. Offering to pet the horse had brought in at least a little bit of trust between the girl and their team. “Awfully young to be a performer, aren’t you?”

  “Nah. Lots of kids grow up performing in this circus. Ty, the knife thrower, has been here since he was a baby, like me. And Lawrence, the Chess Wonder, was born in the Red Top. He’s in law school now.”

  “The Chess Wonder?” Emma raised her eyebrows. Chess wasn’t everyday circus fare.

  “It wasn’t the biggest act, but he wanted to do nothing more than checkmate paying customers in five moves or less. And there’s nothing I’d rather be doing than riding Gray.” The girl patted the Appaloosa on the side, sending the horse off to graze in the corral. She made sure the lock was in place.

  Emma smiled. “I can see that.”

  Then Bunny waved one hand off to the right. “My parents are over by our RV.”

  Emma curbed her urge to question the girl about anything case related. As a minor, she’d need to be with her parents for that, or they’d need the guardians’ permission to interview her alone.

  Following the girl away from the corral, the trio paused at a small trailer of tack. Bunny stopped to deposit the footstool and currycomb she’d been using.

  They passed through a row of trailers and campers before coming up to a large patch of concrete behind a run-down RV with a sailcloth canopy providing shade along one side. Billy and Betty Weaver were some distance away in a clear area, focused on their rehearsal.

  Emma couldn’t help looking on with a bit of awe.

  Betty Weaver held a white torch with a meager wreath of fire surrounding the fabric-wrapped head. She leaned back and sprayed some sort of liquid from her mouth, the torch erupted, and a gout of flame shot three feet into the distance, billowing through a Hula-Hoop with photos attached to its rim. The flames calmed and receded without setting the pictures alight.

  In the end, Betty simply held a torch, gently flickering with a halo of fire.

  Nearby, Billy Weaver stood watching with an extinguisher ready, but the woman seemed to have her flame under control.

  “Mom, Dad, these FBI agents want to talk to you,” Bunny called out.

  Emma waved as the pair turned toward them. The woman extinguished the flame with a wet cloth and placed the torch down on a patch of dry concrete, away from where she’d been working.

  “Impressive.” Emma nodded toward the torch as the two of them came forward. She introduced herself and Denae. “I don’t have to ask what you do around here.”

  Betty smiled, and Emma decided she was either in her late thirties or early forties. With brown hair and eyes, the woman would probably blend into a crowd, but her glittery black sweater indicated a certain dramatic flair.

  She placed a protective hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Do you need Bunny here?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Denae smiled down at the girl. “Not right now, unless Bunny has anything she wants to tell us. Maybe about Gray stealing more than her share of carrots at mealtime?”

  The tween giggled and shook her head. “Gray would never.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed her mom on the cheek before calling a goodbye over her shoulder. “I’ll get back to Gray’s grooming and be at the paddock if you need me.”

  Betty waited until the girl disappeared, going back to Gray, before focusing on the agents. “She doesn’t like talking about the deaths right now. The grief is too fresh. She saw Kyle start to seize, but we pulled her away quickly, thank goodness. And she and Penelope were close. We’ve had performers leave the circus before, but this is the first time someone she’s been close to has…” She shook her head and gestured over to some lawn chairs near the RV. “Care to sit down?”

  Emma nodded and followed the couple, Denae beside her. “Thank you. We won’t take up much of your time.”

  “Oh, that’s all right. We’ve been doing this so long, the practice is more a habit than a need. Comfort in times like this, you might say. But with no shows coming…” The woman broke off there, and her husband put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Billy Weaver, but you knew that.” About the same age as his wife, Billy had a drawl that Emma guessed put his upbringing around Mississippi. He was tan and fit. His plaid shirt and jeans made Emma think more of a lumberjack than a circus performer. “Betty and I are glad to help however we can. Penelope, and even Kyle and Dennis, were like family.”

  “Even Kyle and Dennis?” Emma glanced between the couple, waiting.

  “Don’t speak ill of the dead, honey.” Betty spoke so quietly, Emma barely heard the words, but her husband nodded. “Just the facts they need.”

  “That’s all we’re asking for.” Emma leaned forward, noting the sadness in the woman’s face. “But if there’s anything that could’ve made them targets, anything they did wrong, we should know. We’d appreciate hearing the full truth. Anything could help.”

  Denae loosened the scarf around her neck. The morning, while still cold, was warming up. “We do understand respecting the dead, but in order to find justice for victims, sometimes that means learning what victims otherwise would’ve wanted hidden.”

  Betty Weaver drew herself up straighter.

  He rubbed his hands together. “My Betty likes to see herself as a mom to every performer here, but some are special. Penelope was special.” He blew out a breath. “She was like an older sister to our Bunny, you want the truth, and Bunny couldn’t have had a better role model than that young woman. I don’t know who could’ve held anything against that girl, and—”

  “Penelope’s death must have been an accident,” Betty rushed to say. “I know it’s odd, what with Dennis and Kyle just after, but—”

  “Ma’am, Betty, I’m afraid it was no accident.” Emma kept her tone gentle. She glanced at Denae, and the other woman nodded.

  They hadn’t discussed whether to keep the latest forensic findings quiet, but Betty needed to understand Penelope’s death was a homicide. Otherwise, she might not relay as much information as possible.

  “Our techs found that Penelope Dowe’s safety lines had been tampered with. They were cut with something sharp, just enough to fray and snap with her weight on them. Her death, and the deaths of Dennis Hamel and Kyle Perkins, are homicides, and we can prove it.”

  Betty’s eyes went wide, and Emma almost wished she’d been less abrupt. It seemed cruel to slap away hope.

  The woman gave off a group-mom vibe for sure, well-meaning and optimistic. The pull to her lips suggested that, even now, she didn’t want to believe someone would have wished the twenty-six-year-old acrobat harm, let alone kill her.

  “If you say so.” Betty’s voice was no more than a murmur.

  Billy took her hand. The movement was simple and natural.

  Emma found herself wishing she had someone to hold her hand the same way. Her father had been distant, and her mother was a grainy memory she fought to keep alive. She mentally shook her head to clear away the melancholy.

  Denae cleared her throat. “How long have you two been together, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “We met in the circus. More than a decade ago now.” Billy patted their joined hands. “Couldn’t separate us now if you tried. I didn’t last but three months with any woman before the two of us met.”

  Betty harrumphed as she wiped away her tears. “No other woman’d put up with you, you old fire-breather.”

  “That they wouldn’t.” Billy’s smile fell away as he remained focused on his wife for another few seconds before turning back toward Emma and Denae. “I’m sorry to hear that…that Penelope’s death was on purpose. If she wasn’t safe, nobody’s safe. We’ll tell you whatever we can.”

  Beside him, his wife nodded. “Yes, like Billy said. We promise we’ll help however we can.”

  Billy stroked Betty’s hair. “Kyle and Dennis were a little harder to love than Penelope, but I don’t see how they were worth murdering.”

  “How so?” Emma leaned forward on her lawn chair, then sat back as it threatened to tip.

  “Dennis was something of a drunk, but he was a good man. People liked him, and he was a seasoned performer. It didn’t make sense to me that he’d mix up a prop and a real firecracker. His system was clear and organized.”

  Betty nodded. “That’s true.”

  Billy released his wife’s hand and rested his elbows on his knees. “You gotta be smart to work with pyrotechnics on a professional level, and the setups he’d put together for our finales and opening nights were on par with the big-time circuses. He knew his stuff, drunk or not.”

  “Did you work with him closely, considering your act?” Denae asked.

  Billy gave a noncommittal shrug. “Our act doesn’t need much in the way of supplies. That liquid you saw Betty spit out was SAFEX-Pyrofluid FS, which we order special. Nobody else in the Ruby Red has any use for it. I keep it locked up in our camper just so it doesn’t get mistaken for something else. Stuff’s not exactly cheap. I sometimes use paraffin, which the circus keeps on hand.”