Leo made the split-second decision that, no, they didn’t need them to go over the bloody death of the strongman again. Not right now, at least.

  “Don’t worry about that.” Leo didn’t blame them. “We have access to those police reports, but whatever you can tell us about the victims would—”

  “Stop, you! Get back, I said!”

  Leo and Mia whirled around.

  In the thoroughfare, which had been calm just minutes before, a crowd of protesters surged forward, trying to overwhelm the beleaguered police force. A few cops screamed into their radios as they attempted to push the civilians back, but there just weren’t enough of them to control the situation.

  A not-so-good situation was getting worse.

  Leo shoved his iPad into his bag and ran forward. Mia broke into a sprint, passing him.

  Whoa, she’s fast.

  Leo slowed and held out his arms as he approached the large group, coming up in the gap between two of the officers. He added his voice to the chorus, demanding everyone calm down, as a woman broke from the crowd and sprinted past him. One hand went into her coat as if she were reaching for a weapon.

  “Freeze. Stop!” Leo lunged sideways, making a grab for her, but missed by a hair. “Dammit!”

  He stumbled onto his knees from the inertia of his lunge, shoved himself up from the dirt, and sprinted after her, heading back toward Jamie’s camper. Ty and Jamie had disappeared in the interim, but the woman would find targets easily if he didn’t stop her.

  “FBI! Stop and put your hands in the air.” His scream carried, but she didn’t respond.

  With his lungs burning and his breath puffing cold, Leo followed the flash of her green coat and hood around the corner of a tent. And he nearly ran into her as she spun around to face him. She shrieked something about saving animals from circus monsters.

  She brought up her hand, brandishing something red in the air.

  He had his hand near his gun but left it in its holster and took one step forward. This woman wasn’t holding a gun.

  A ketchup bottle?

  “FBI. You need to—”

  “They’re murderers!” The woman wielded the red bottle higher in the air, her eyes wide and panicked as she screamed. “They kill each other, and they kill animals, and they—”

  “Stop! Enough. Ma’am, my name is Special Agent Leo Ambrose, and I’m calling on you to put down—”

  The woman leapt toward him, hand raised. The plastic bottle squawked in her grip as she squeezed. Red glop splashed onto his face and hair, burning his eyes.

  He stumbled sideways, wiping the acidic gunk from his sight. He couldn’t see a damn thing through the burning.

  “Dammit, lady, I’m FBI. Put it down!” He swiped at the mucky condiment covering his face, but the move did no good. He only smeared ketchup all over his cheeks.

  Meanwhile, the woman continued screaming at him. Clearly, logic wasn’t in her wheelhouse, but he couldn’t arrest her if he couldn’t see her.

  He rubbed a knuckle hard against a dry portion of his ketchup-laced jacket and then against his eye, trying to remove the last of the substance from his face.

  Only marginally better.

  Leo reached for her and caught another squirt of ketchup in the chest. When he swiped one arm out, some ketchup splatted into the palm of his hand. Another squirt caught him in the cheek and made him emit a rare curse word that his grandfather would’ve knocked him sideways for even thinking.

  Mia Logan’s raised voice broke through the high pitch of Ketchup Woman’s screams.

  Leo squinted through the sting to find the petite agent handcuffing the protester in the dirt.

  Bright red ketchup was splattered over the right arm of Mia’s coat, but she smiled when she peered up at Leo. Her dimples seemed particularly deep. Unlike him, she’d missed the brunt of the condiment attack.

  Mia turned her head, and Leo followed her gaze back to the thoroughfare. “Ketchup bandits zero, FBI…twelve?”

  A covey of protesters was spread-eagled against the back side of a trailer. Two cops collected ketchup bottles and read them their rights. Both officers had ketchup dripping from various parts of their uniforms.

  Mia delivered the green-coated woman to the group lined up at the trailer.

  Leo took a break from attempting to regain his dignity and stood beside the woman. “What’s your name?”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she spat in the dirt before looking back at him. “Asshole.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  Mia snickered, and the woman gave her a dirty look before turning her face back to the trailer. “My name’s Wynona, asshole. And I’m here to stop the animal murder. How can you stand the butchering that’s happening here? How can you—”

  “Shut up, Wynona Asshole. Face the wall. Memorize the paint chips.” Mia wrangled the crazy bitch around, forcing her to look at the siding.

  Leo had to admit Mia Logan was quickly becoming one of his favorite people.

  The tiny agent smiled at him, obviously having fun. “Bunch of ’em came in with ketchup and pulled similar moves. Soon as you took off after this one, they started in with the fake-blood party.”

  Leo finished wiping his hands on his pants, now maybe as ruined as his jacket. He reached up hesitantly to his hair. Gobbed with ketchup, as he’d feared. He swiped away what excess stickiness he could and glared at the woman in Mia’s grip. “That’s assaulting officers. You realize that?”

  “Ketchup’s no deadly weapon. Have you seen what they do to elephants here?”

  “They don’t have any elephants here, Wynona. They have a single Appaloosa, and she probably has more creature comforts than every performer here.” He glanced at Mia, whose focus had turned to the other detained protesters and annoyed cops near the trailer. “And you’ll be lucky if no one sustained any injuries in all this. Deadly weapon or not, you cannot attack officers of the law. You shouldn’t attack anyone. You understand that?”

  “You’re all complicit in the murders of innocent animals.” She broke into sobs.

  A glob of ketchup he’d missed crept down his forehead and onto his nose. As he glimpsed Mia biting back a laugh, Leo closed his eyes to count to ten.

  On ten, he lifted his jacket and used the inside to swipe the remaining condiment from his face before following Mia away from the wall of cuffed protesters.

  Ketchup-covered performers and officers were trading water bottles back and forth, doing what they could to clean themselves off. A middle-aged woman in a flashy black sweater rolled up with a whole wheelbarrow of water bottles, and Leo took one with a grateful nod.

  He poured some water into his hand and slicked it through his hair as Vance approached. The other agent bit his lower lip, presumably to hold back a laugh. There was not one drop of ketchup marring him.

  Of course the prom king managed to stay ketchup-free. Life isn’t fair.

  Vance swept his hand around the scene. “You survive the great ketchup war?”

  Leo grunted, taking in the scene again. “Ketchup or not, are they trying to get themselves killed for their cause?”

  “You mean you didn’t see the elephants?”

  Leo glared sideways at Vance, not appreciating his deadpan comment.

  Vance smiled. “I mean, flying elephants, Agent Ambrose, with ears like you wouldn’t believe.” The man whistled a few bars of “When I See an Elephant Fly.”

  11

  Emma couldn’t help it. As soon as Leo plopped down across from her at the cramped table, she gestured with a french fry. “Want some fries with that?”

  The other agent half chuckled, half grimaced. The stale smell of dried ketchup wafted from him every time he moved. His normally wild, loose dark curls were clumped together.

  “Even after rinsing out most of it, I think you could use my head for dipping.”

  He shifted his fried-fish sandwich, making room for the barbecue sauce he’d picked up.

  Emma pointed at the brown sauce with her fry. “Brave of you to pick up even more condiments.”

  She’d thought Denae might jump into the joking, but the woman remained silent in her seat beside Leo with an expression that told Emma she hadn’t quite forgiven her for the ringmaster antics this morning.

  To her surprise, it was SSA Hollingsworth who responded as she sat next to Emma. “He’s nothing if not a risk-taker.”

  SSA Hollingsworth dug into her fish-topped salad, which seemed healthy enough. But she picked a few hush puppies from the big basket they shared in the center of the table. Emma felt herself stiffen at the SSA’s sudden presence, even though Hollingsworth didn’t seem at all perturbed.

  “Hush puppies with corn? And peppers?” Leo examined the breaded appetizer he’d just bitten into. “That’s new.”

  Hollingsworth shook her head. “Best way to make ’em. Corn, spice, bell peppers, extra crispy on the fry.” She caught Leo’s eye. “You spent too long in Miami if you can’t appreciate these things. I ate here a few years ago and couldn’t wait to come back. Just for these little treats.”

  She popped another of the breaded apps into her mouth as if for emphasis and smiled in satisfaction, one cheek pouched out like a chipmunk for effect.

  Leo laughed in response. Emma did the same, but hers was forced. She should’ve been able to relax here with her own team, but she was still unsteady after her superior had called her out.

  The four of them occupied a booth at the kitschy Freddy’s Fried Fish Delish Diner, where the air was saturated with grease. The walls were a glaring mishmash of bright colors and oddities. A cuckoo clock comprised of rotating rainbow trout made splashing sounds every fifteen minutes. Various colorful tackles threatened anyone who leaned too close to the walls. A plastic swordfish in need of dusting dangled from the ceiling.

  But the fish there couldn’t be beat if you were looking for a fast meal…or a precursor to a gallstone or heart attack. Emma did rather appreciate the way the diner’s chaotic decor mirrored the atmosphere of the case they were on, and she kept her eyes roving.

  Whole world’s a circus if you look at it through the right lens.

  She swiped another fry through her ketchup and munched on it, wishing she were hungry enough to enjoy the feast of calories before her.

  The morning’s chaos was something she could brush off. A few protesters had been cuffed, but nobody was arrested—all of them sent home instead—and she considered that a small win. Any of those folks would be met with serious pushback if they returned to the circus.

  Emma hoped they’d learned their lessons. That meant the agents could work through the afternoon without further distraction, even though the newest guy on the team would smell like ketchup for the day.

  No, what bothered Emma most was the rift with Denae.

  Normally, Denae spent lunches lightening the mood of a case. She should’ve been the first to tell Leo to swipe his fry through his hair. Instead, she was more serious than SSA Hollingsworth.

  Agent Denae Monroe was annoyed with her—maybe even borderline pissed—and she had every right to be.

  They’d had no probable cause and no warrant. To make matters worse, Emma couldn’t even explain to Denae why she’d been so sure. Couldn’t mention hauntings to the team. They’d probably drug test her. With cause.

  And what if Emma had seen something inside Reggie O’Rourke’s camper? They probably couldn’t have acted on any glimpse of evidence, short of there being an injured person inside.

  Emma and Denae were both hoping to make standout first impressions.

  I stood out for sure. Talk about shooting myself in the foot. And I put the spotlight on Denae, too, but not in a good way.

  Their team was too young for her to be doing anything but showing SSA Jacinda Hollingsworth the utmost respect and following instructions and protocol to the proverbial T.

  Emma broke open a hush puppy and crumbled it over what remained of her sandwich, prompting Leo to do the same. She nodded at him, gesturing cheers with her concoction, before taking a massive bite. The richness and crunch brought out even more of the fish’s flavor. If only she could’ve appreciated the meal without distractions.

  At least Leo seemed to be fitting in.

  Never been good at first impressions. If Leo doesn’t like me, at least he has a better poker face.

  “How are the Ravens looking this year for the playoffs, you think?” Leo hooked his thumb toward the game schedule posted nearby on the wall. “I’m a die-hard Dolphins fan, but when in Rome…”

  Denae dropped her fork and went into a detailed rundown of what she thought of the Ravens’ chances, finally coming out of the shell she’d constructed around herself.

  At least Denae and Leo were hitting it off. That was something. Emma stole a glance at Hollingsworth, who was following the football talk as she picked at her salad’s remains. If not for the snafu that morning, Emma might’ve elbowed her and asked about her own interests, starting up a side conversation. Not now.

  Still, Emma guessed from the semi-distant expression her boss wore that she only followed sports talk out of politeness…

  Emma wiped her hands on a paper towel. “Well, SSA Hollingsworth, any theories on the killer or motives?”

  The SSA shot a meaningful glance around the diner, which was packed even at this late lunch hour. “I’m beginning to get some, but I believe it’d be more appropriate to talk after lunch. Don’t you?”

  Dammit, I’m an idiot.

  “Right. Of course. I’m batting a thousand today.” Emma picked up another hush puppy to hide how stupid she felt.

  “It’s okay. Like I said, I admire initiative. I needed to know you could listen. Call me Jacinda.”

  Even though her voice was low, Jacinda seemed warmer now. Maybe it was the food. She chimed into the conversation across their table with some comment about football playoffs, and much of the tension seemed to leave the room.

  But whatever warmth Jacinda’s small olive branch offered was almost immediately frozen out as a draft of cold air made Emma shiver. The world felt farther away. Voices hushed.

  She glanced around the crowded diner, scanning the crowd.

  Near the opposite wall, she spotted a clown in white, purple, and yellow makeup. Bits of brown hair poked through holes in his wig. Curly bright red hair sprang out in all directions where the wig was still intact. The flashy costume sparkled in the early afternoon light drifting through the front window.

  Dennis Hamel. His chest was blown open. Ribbons of singed costume dangled around his wounds. The messy hole in his chest from the firework eliminated any levity from his painted-on smile. Blood, red and fresh, leaked from the sizable opening. His muscles and organs were sagging and appeared to be slipping from the cavern. One intestine trailed down, dangling by his knees. The entrail jiggled as the ghost walked toward the door.

  From this squared-off angle, Emma saw clear through the hole to the diners along the opposite wall behind him, as if a horror movie director had planned the framing for effect. Dennis Hamel was the bloodiest, most mangled ghost she’d seen yet.

  Emma breathed deep once, and again, before finally forcing a small smile onto her face and picking up a hush puppy.

  Act normal.

  She glanced along the diner’s floor to see if there might be any trail of blood, any remaining evidence.

  There wasn’t, of course. Ghosts didn’t leave behind clues.

  She glanced back in the clown’s direction and casually met his gaze, wondering if the ghost might say something.

  Dennis Hamel, with his clown makeup smeared, his hairline splattered with blood, and his insides leaking out over his polka dots, met her eyes and held a finger to his lips before exiting the diner’s front door.

  Why?

  What was keeping these particular ghosts silent?

  And do I really want to find out?

  12

  Mia picked at her salad, shifting her fish around to soak up more of the dressing. For a fish joint, the vinaigrette could have used more kick. But she guessed most patrons weren’t exactly here for the salads, given the grease soaking into her clothing from the very air.

  Across from her, Vance wiped nonexistent sauce from his lips. Of all the agents, he seemed the most unscathed by the morning’s ketchup attack. “Seriously, I’m glad you saw the sword-swallower for yourself. I don’t know how he does it. Can you imagine? Weirdest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Maybe the sword is fake?” Mia asked and nodded along as Vance debated the question. She couldn’t focus, though.

  Haven’t heard anyone say they had a really enlightening interview.

  But it wasn’t the lack of developments keeping Mia distracted. Not by a long shot.

  Vance had taken it for granted they’d sit together, grabbing an open two-seater while she’d still been getting her drink. There’d been no polite way to decline. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t want to hang out with him. Vance was a great guy—handsome, charming, polite, smart—and a member of her team.

  Just a member of her team. She had no romantic interest in him, despite the chemistry they’d shared last summer.

  Mia needed to find a way to navigate this awkwardness and make sure they remained on good ground with one another. And maybe, possibly, someday far in the future, she’d be ready for something more to develop. Which meant she didn’t want to burn potential romantic bridges.

  Assuming I can even be friends without developing feelings. And then I’d probably lose him too.

  The thought tightened her resolve. She wasn’t ready to pick up on their previous flirtations, but even if she had been, it would’ve been too dangerous to risk.

  She wiped her hands with a paper towel and glanced over to the other table of agents. Leo was still eating—he’d been last in line after taking some time to clean up in the restroom—so they wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.

  Fighting back a sigh, she snagged a hush puppy from the basket and tried to focus on Vance, who’d gone quiet.

  “I’m sorry.” She gestured with the breaded appetizer. “What did you just say? Afraid I got distracted.”