CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The sound of the calliope on the merry-go-round lilted in the breezeless, hot air, buffeted now and again by cries of glee. Everywhere, balloons floated, the sweet scent of funnel cake lofted, and children ran around with their cotton candy and ice cream treats, excitedly pointing out which rides they wanted to try, as their parents tried to keep up.
The man stood in the grass by the entrance to the Zipper. He liked filling in here. It wasn’t ever busy. A couple of kids with bright-green wristbands looked up at it, eyes wide in amazement.
“You coming on?” he asked, holding open the gate for them.
The bravest of the two took a step forward, until a polo-wearing father reached out and clamped a hand over his shoulder. “I don’t think so, Sport,” the father said. “That one
