Chapter 1

As the mid-June sky turned from dusk to dark, I smiled, amused by the nine-foot-tall clown wandering from pine tree to pine tree, switching on the solar lanterns that hung from random limbs. A dude on stilts; that answered my question as to how they powered up the lanterns. Some that automatically turned on as the light started to fade would be more practical, but this was far more entertaining.

For nearly a month I’d heard about the Whispering Pines circus. Today, I finally got to experience it for myself, alongside my friend Tripp Bennett.

“Do you want to ride the carousel next,” Tripp asked, “or get caramel corn?”

This carousel was the most amazing I’d ever seen. The double-decker beauty had two rows of animals on the bottom, one on top. Like nearly any other merry-go-round there were horses, but this one also had rabbits, reindeer, camels, lions, cats, giraffes, frogs, and goats. For those who couldn’t climb up on an animal, there was a swan-shaped bench and a submarine that looked like it had come straight out of a Dr. Seuss undersea fantasy.

“No question, the carousel.” I pointed to the upper deck. “I’ve been eyeing that zebra every time we pass by.”

“Zebra it is.” He pointed out the iridescent animal just behind my intended transport. “I’m going to ride that purple-blue-green seahorse-dragon thing.”

While we waited for both of our preferred creatures to be free at the same time, we watched the sideshow acts scattered along the midway. No one could miss the tall woman, she had to stand at least seven feet with red hair that hung almost to her knees. She was dressed like a puppeteer, holding strings attached to a one-armed little boy who pretended to be her marionette. They were absolutely charming.

A few yards away, a man balanced on a large ball while juggling flaming torches. Wary parents maintained a wide perimeter, encouraging the juggler while holding their children back to avoid any fire mishaps.

“I can’t believe he’s blind,” a teenage girl said as she and her family wandered past.

“The juggler?” I asked.

“The juggler,” the father said. “Isn’t that incredible?”

It was, but no more so than anything else around here.

Across the red-brick-paved midway from the juggler, a woman hung by one leg from a hoop that was suspended between two large pine trees. She spun so fast she was a blur, and then in a blink of an eye, she was spinning by one hand. And then by only the back of her head. She mesmerized me with all the contortions she put her body through. As her routine came to the end, her spotter lowered her to the ground where she waved and bowed to the crowd. Then her spotter approached her with a wheelchair we hadn’t even noticed.

“Look at her,” I said as she positioned her right leg on the footrest. “She can only use her left leg. I couldn’t have done what she just did if I had four superhuman legs.”

“We’re up.” Tripp took my hand and led me up one short staircase to the carousel platform and then to another that led to the top deck.

We rushed like excited children to our rides. A little girl pouted when she saw me mount the zebra, but seemed to forget about it when she spotted a white unicorn with a beautiful flowing mane a few spaces up.

I looked behind me to see Tripp with a grin covering his face as his seahorse-dragon went up and down, the calliope music enveloping us in happiness. As the ride slowed to a stop—I swear, our turn lasted much shorter than the others—Tripp jumped off his mount and then helped me down. I patted my zebra on the rump and thanked him for the lovely ride.

“You ready to go home?” Tripp asked once we were back on the ground.

Before I could answer, a woman came up to us. Early thirties, dark-brown hair in a braid hanging halfway down her back, olive skin, black-brown eyes. Dressed in khaki-green cargo pants, a gray tank top, and hiking sandals, she looked like she had just stepped out of a South American jungle.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the woman said with a slight Spanish accent. “I have a couple questions for you if you don’t mind. My name is Lupe Gomez. I’m a journalist, working on a series of articles about Whispering Pines. I was hoping to get your thoughts on the circus. Who are you two? Do you live here or are you tourists?”

“I’m Jayne O’Shea,” I said, “he’s Tripp Bennett. I guess you could say we’re temporary residents. We’re doing repairs to my grandparents’ house and getting it ready for sale. My thoughts on the circus? What’s not to love? It’s a circus.”

“I agree,” Tripp said. “There are people of all ages here, from tiny babies to older folks. I have yet to see anyone who didn’t have a smile on their face.”

I looked up at him. “Someone paying you to be the circus promo guy?”

“I didn’t know there was such a job. Does it really pay?”

Laughing, I turned my attention back to the reporter. “You said your name is Lupe? Who are you writing these articles for?”

“I work for an online Wisconsin travel magazine, Unique Wisconsin. Tell me, what’s been your favorite part?”

“My favorite,” I said, “had to be the big top performance.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tripp agreed, “that was great.”

“Are you staying for the night performance?” Lupe asked.

“I don’t think we need to see it a second time,” Tripp said.

“The second performance is for adults only.” Lupe winked and waggled her eyebrows. “If you know what I mean.”

“An X-rated performance?” My face flushed as my proximity to Tripp suddenly felt far too close.

Lupe shook her head. “It’s not X-rated, but the costumes are skimpier and the performances are racier and the atmosphere, well, go see for yourself.”

“I don’t think we should miss that.” Tripp turned to me, suddenly bright-eyed and eager to see skimpiness. “Will Meeka be okay for another hour and a half?”

Meeka, my West Highland White Terrier.

“She should be fine,” I said. “She had a very busy day of standing at the end of the dock and barking at every boat, jet ski, swimmer, and fish that went past. Then she chased some invisible something-or-other around the yard. She was so tired by the time we left, I think she was passed out on her cushion before I even closed the door.”

“Then let’s go watch the racy sword swallowers,” he begged.

I paused, wondering exactly what that would entail.

“Before you go.” Lupe held up a professional-looking camera. “Could I get a picture of you two for the website?”

I propped my hand on my hip and leaned against Tripp as he draped an arm over my shoulders. Lupe snapped a few shots, promising to choose the best one. I gave her my email address, and she said she’d send me copies.

“You two are really cute together.” She smiled at the images on her camera’s screen and then clamped a hand over her mouth when she saw my scowl and shaking head. “Sorry. Have fun. I’m sure I’ll see you around. I’m here all summer.”

We walked the length of the midway, past games and rides for little kids, to the big top and entered for the second time that day. For the afternoon performance, we had underestimated the number of people who would be there. We got there too late and had to sit at the far end. Not a problem this time, either we were really early or this wasn’t as big a deal as Lupe made it out to be. The bleachers were practically empty.

It was the same tent, but the atmosphere felt very different from two hours earlier. Gone was the traditional circus setup, replaced with what led me to believe we were going to see a Cirque du Soleil-style show. The lighting this afternoon had been bright, animated spotlights. Now those spotlights were filtered to cast a rosy, romantic glow. Long fabric curtains, that served dual-purpose as a backdrop behind the three rings and a staging area for the performers, had also been swapped out. Earlier, they had alternating stripes of vibrant primary colors—red, yellow, green, and blue. Now, the curtains were black, red, ivory, and gold. Romantic French accordion music played softly in the background. I could hardly wait to see how this performance would differ from the family-friendly one we had already seen.

Tripp placed a hand on my lower back, sending shivers through me despite the hot evening air, and guided me toward seats right across from the center ring. He sat close to me, almost too close. I sure hoped this wasn’t a mistake. The entire village of Whispering Pines was already sure we were dating. At least a dozen times since we got to the grounds this afternoon, I had to explain that we were only there as friends. Although Tripp made it clear he would like to be more, I wasn’t ready to take that step yet.

Claiming the need for air flow, I scooted a few inches away and let out a slightly shaky breath. Why was I so jittery? We were two friends having fun at the circus. Maybe my sudden attack of nerves had nothing to do with us. I scanned the tent, searching for anything that could signal trouble. Nothing. It had to be all that dating and together talk people kept throwing at us.

I was an ex-cop, though, and always trusted my instincts. I’d stay alert, just in case.