Night of the Tiger

Chapter Two

A week later

Wind skittered over the parched ground, pushing dried leaves in front of it. Dust whipped up, swirling in an exotic dance before being dispersed by the cool breeze. A rabbit hopped across the clearing, stopped, lifted its pink nose and sniffed the air. A deer froze at the edge of the woods, sensing everything was not as it should be.

Evil.

On the wind and moving steadily closer. The rabbit bounded quickly into the woods. The deer bolted, racing deep into the forest, not looking back. The birds took flight, while the smaller woodland creatures burrowed into their dens and hidey-holes. Crows cawed raucously, flapping their wings as they soared above the clearing.

The sound of a truck interrupted their chatter. Another quickly followed it. Voices rang out as a convoy of vehicles flanked either side of the large clearing. Metal clanked as equipment was unloaded. Canvas flapped in the wind as tents were raised.

Shade’s Carnival has come to Salvation, North Carolina.

Aimee sighed as she climbed out of the low-slung, vintage red Mustang. This was the last place she wanted to be tonight, but her friend had insisted.

“It’ll be fun,” she muttered, mocking what her friend, Sandra Travers, had said. Aimee would rather have a root canal.

“I heard that.” Sandra closed the car door with a thunk and leaned her arms on top of the roof, peering over it. “I know that you prefer to be a hermit, but honestly, Aimee, even you’ve never been quite this bad before.”

“I know. I’ve just been preoccupied lately. With work,” she added before Sandra could ask.

Aimee knew there was no defense against her friend’s accusations. There was no denying she didn’t like being out in public, much preferred being at home in her art studio. Even as a child, she’d spent all her time with her colored pencils, sketch books and oil paints. In school, she’d constantly doodled when she should have been concentrating on her social studies or math assignments.

Her teachers had predicted she’d never graduate high school or get a job if she didn’t stop scribbling pictures on every available sheet of paper. She’d proved them wrong on both counts. She’d not only graduated from high school, but had managed a year of art school before returning to Salvation. Her doodles, as many had deemed them, not only provided her with a comfortable living, but also allowed her to do something she loved on a daily basis.

Aimee considered herself luckier than most folks she knew, even though her life hadn’t been an easy one. Both her parents had been killed in a car accident when she was seventeen. She’d been in the car with them when the drunk driver of a delivery truck had slammed into them, and she hadn’t escaped unharmed.

Shattered glass had left her face with several scars that had faded to thin white lines over time. Her left arm and both her legs had been broken, but her left leg had been the worst. It had taken several surgeries and months of rehabilitation for Aimee to be able to walk again. She still limped when she was tired, and her left leg would never be as strong as it once was. But she was alive. Her parents hadn’t been as lucky.

By the time she’d been released from the hospital, her eighteenth birthday had come and gone and she was an adult. She’d moved back into her family home on the outskirts of town and adjusted to her new life. Art school had beckoned and she’d gone, but only for a year. Aimee found she missed the mountains and her childhood home, needed the connection with her past to keep her grounded. So she’d moved back to Salvation, lucked into her current job and never looked back.

Even after a decade, the townspeople still called her “that poor Horner girl” in whispers whenever they saw her, recounting her tragic story. It was frustrating, but Aimee had long ago learned to ignore it and to live with the stares that followed her whenever she went into town.

“Aimee.” Sandra’s voice broke through her memories, bringing her back to the present.

She offered her friend a smile. It wasn’t much of one, but it was the best she could do. Sandra Travers couldn’t understand what it was like to be the object of pity and sometimes ridicule. Her friend was tall and slender, with thick blonde hair that fell halfway down her back and framed sultry blue eyes. She had the body of a centerfold model, and men stopped in their tracks whenever they saw her.

The blonde bombshell had unwittingly caused several car accidents just by walking down the sidewalk. Flirting came natural to her and was simply a part of who she was. Sandra was outgoing and vivacious, chatting to everyone. She loved to be out and about among people and drew them to her like flies to honey.

In spite of the protective walls Aimee had built around herself, Sandra had knocked them down one by one when she’d moved to Salvation less than a year ago, and the two of them had become unlikely friends.

It had started with coffee at Kathy’s Kitchen, the local diner. And now they had dinner at least once a week and met for coffee whenever Aimee went to town. They talked often, Sandra regaling Aimee with her stories of dating and all the latest gossip about life in Salvation.

“Aimee, let’s go.” Sandra’s impatient plea got her full attention.

Determined not to spoil their evening out, Aimee hooked her purse strap over her shoulder and started toward the fairgrounds. “Sure.”

Although she felt fine most of the time, she was careful as she walked over the uneven ground. In spite of all the doctors’ best efforts years ago, her left leg would never be strong. It paid to be cautious. The last thing she wanted to do was take a spill on the uneven ground and end up humiliating herself in front of most of the townspeople who’d come here tonight. They talked about her enough without her giving them something else to set their tongues wagging.

Because she lived alone and never dated, rumors abounded that she was gay. That was the best of them. Other rumors hinted at much darker things, mostly because she made her living doing artwork for graphic novels, most of which were horror or fantasy based. Many of the folks around here figured that must put her in league with the devil.

After the dreams of the past few months, Aimee was beginning to think they might be right. But, for the moment at least, the buzz in town was centered on the traveling carnival. It had raised quite a stir in the small mountain town of Salvation. They hadn’t seen this kind of traveling show here in more than twenty years.

Most carnivals of this sort had died out decades ago, losing out to bigger and better permanent theme parks. At first, the town fathers had been uncertain about having a large group of unknown origins setting up shop nearby. But a quick trip to the fairgrounds and a hefty permit fee had gone a long way toward settling their qualms. The carnival was allowed to stay.

Aimee tilted her head back and peered up at the sky. It was well past dusk, and the stars were starting to twinkle in the night sky. The air was crisp and clean, as it can be only in the fall of the year. It was early October. The time of year she loved the most.

It had been a week since she’d had her last nightmare, for which she was eternally grateful. She’d certainly dreamed since then, but her latest dream had taken on a different tone entirely.

“Come on, Aimee. We don’t want to miss any of the fun.” Sandra was already several steps ahead, leading Aimee toward the bright lights and sounds of the carnival.

Even she had to admit that it was impressive for a traveling show. They’d parked their trucks and vehicles around the perimeter of the field, using the natural barrier of the woods to surround the fairgrounds. A ticket booth stood at the entrance beneath a brightly lit marquee that proclaimed it to be SHADE’S CARNIVAL.

As she watched, the red lights flickered and, for a moment, the lights that made up the first S and the apostrophe went dark. Aimee blinked as she read the sign again. HADES CARNIVAL. A shiver ran down her spine, and she stopped dead in her tracks. People continued to move around her, heading to the ticket booth to purchase tickets for the rides and attractions. The S and apostrophe suddenly lit up again, and the moment was past.

“Must be bad bulbs.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, glad she’d worn a heavy sweater over her long-sleeved shirt. Even though the days were still relatively warm, the nights cooled off quickly here in the mountains.

Following the crowd, she tried to ignore the sidelong glances she received from some of the townspeople. Even after all these years, she was self-conscious about the faint scars that traced over the left side of her face. Aimee nodded to some folks and said hello to others. They returned her greeting, but then they all looked away. None of them stopped to speak.

A miracle. That’s what she was. A miracle. Or so the doctors had said. By rights, she should have died in the crash with her parents. She’d been in a coma for several weeks and everyone had given up hope of her ever coming out of it. Then suddenly, one morning she’d opened her eyes and spoken to the nurse hovering over her. She could still remember the poor woman’s cry of surprise.

Maybe the accident had been the catalyst for her nightmares. Not surprising in view of everything she’d been through. Most would say that her bad dreams were normal considering she’d lost both her parents in one split second. But it went much further than that. She’d begun seeing creatures that shouldn’t exist. They haunted her sleeping hours and the dim recesses of her mind.

She supposed she should be grateful. Setting those images on paper had led to her getting a job she loved. Something good had come from something bad. A trade-off of sorts.

Her dreams were almost all sinister, except for the ones with the white tiger. Just the thought of the great beast made her smile. She’d dreamed of the tiger for a long time, starting when she was still in the hospital all those years ago.

Huge and deadly and beautiful, the tiger came to her when she was most afraid, offering silent comfort in her sleep. They couldn’t communicate in words, but Aimee sensed the connection that existed between them, and she was glad for it. It gave her a break from the constant barrage of disturbing images that constantly troubled her sleep. She always awoke after one of her tiger dreams feeling not quite so alone in the world.

The tiger dreams were the only regular dreams she had that weren’t nightmares. That is until last night.

A shiver went down her spine, but this one wasn’t due to fear or unease. No, this one had everything to do with that particular dream. It had been unlike any she’d ever experienced before.

He came to her from out of the darkness, a vision of potent, raw masculinity. Incredibly tall and broad, he strode toward the end of her bed. He did nothing to hide his nudity. In fact, he seemed totally at home with no clothing. He also did nothing to hide the fact that he wanted her. A rather impressive erection jutted out from his body, thick and full and hard.

Aimee knew she should be afraid, but oddly she wasn’t. A sense of knowingness surrounded her, as though she’d met him before, as if she somehow recognized him on some deep level. That was impossible, of course. There was no way she’d ever forget meeting a man like this.

Anticipation welled up within her. Her breasts swelled and grew heavy, her nipples puckered into tight buds. Dampness coated her sex and trickled between her thighs as sexual desire flared to life within her.

She’d had sex before. Once. Just shortly after she’d returned home from the hospital. That had been more than enough for Aimee. She’d known Matt Ames since they were both kids, and they’d been dating for several months before the accident. She’d been half in love with him and thought he’d felt the same about her. But even he’d barely been able to hide his dismay whenever he looked at her scarred face. She should have known it wouldn’t work when he’d insisted they make love in the dark, under the covers. Not that she’d protested at the time. She’d had enough insecurities of her own, and that had suited her just fine. When it was over, he’d jumped out of bed, promising to call her. He’d never contacted her again, and she’d never called him.

But she sensed this man was different. Sex with him would be totally unlike her first experience. It would be raw and elemental. This was a man who knew how to make a woman’s body writhe with pleasure, to draw her to the edge over and over again before letting her reach orgasm.

More than that, Aimee sensed this man could touch the secret parts of her she kept hidden from others. This man could steal her very soul if she let him.

She wasn’t really sure she had a choice.

His biceps rippled as he reached out his hand to her. His impossibly wide shoulders and chest tapered down to a trim waist, emphasizing his washboard abs. But it was his face and unusual hair that captivated her.

His hair was black, with slender stripes of white flowing through it. Or maybe it was white, with black stripes. Not that it mattered. It fell past his shoulders and looked incredibly soft and silky. She curled her fingers inward to keep from reaching out to touch it.

There was no softness to be found in his face. His features were rugged, all planes and angles. He wasn’t handsome in a classical way. He was masculine and compelling and radiated a sense of power that went all the way to the core of the man. He knew who he was and didn’t care what anyone else thought of him.

And his eyes—his eyes were the most incredible shade of blue she’d ever seen. They were clear and pale, yet utterly mesmerizing. Much like the man himself.

Aimee knew she was dreaming. She had trained herself years ago to be aware of what was a dream and what was reality. It was the only way she knew to keep herself sane. Usually it was easy, a simple matter of separating fact from fantasy. If she was seeing demons or the white tiger, she was dreaming. And if a strange man was in her bedroom, it had to be a dream. She didn’t even have a boyfriend, let alone a man she trusted enough to let into her room.

If this hadn’t been a dream, she would have been afraid of the stranger. As it was, she allowed herself to fully experience the erotic attraction along with the twinge of fear that refused to subside.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Oh God, his voice was incredible. Deep and compelling and downright sexy, it curled her toes. Aimee wanted him to keep talking so she could sink into the sound of his voice. She didn’t care what he said. The words didn’t matter as long as he kept talking.

He was much nearer now, so close she could touch him if she wanted to. Even though the sheets were still pulled tight to her chest, she felt naked before him. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, rubbing her nipples against the fabric of her nightgown. She swallowed hard as her core began to pulse. She wanted this to happen even though she knew it was only a dream.

Aimee slid her hand from beneath the covers. His eyes widened, and she saw the flare of masculine satisfaction as she reached out to him. Mere inches separated their fingers. Closer. She wanted to feel the stroke of his skin against hers.

She licked her lips, and a muscle in his jaw tightened. His erection seemed to swell, growing even larger. Closer. Almost touching. She could feel the heat from his skin. Almost there.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Aimee was jerked back to the present by the sound of her friend’s voice. Heart racing, palms sweating, she could only stare at Sandra. What had just happened? She’d lost all sense of time and place, slipping into a dreamlike state to relive the dream from last night. That had never happened to her before.

“I’m fine,” she managed to get out as she sucked in a deep, calming breath. Her knees felt like jelly, so she stiffened them and prayed her weak leg wouldn’t give out from beneath her. She surreptitiously wiped her palms on her jeans.

“You look pale.” Sandra chewed on her bottom lip, emphasizing the bright red lipstick that adorned it. “Maybe we should go home.”

Guilt assailed Aimee. Sandra had been nice enough to try to get her out of the house for a few hours of enjoyment, and she was acting like a petulant child who just wanted to go home. She didn’t have so many friends she could afford to lose one. She straightened her sweater and hooked her purse higher on her shoulder. “I’m fine. Really,” she added when Sandra’s eyes narrowed.

“If you’re sure.”

“Let’s go.” Taking the lead, Aimee made her way to the ticket booth. The weathered boards were old and faded, the red and yellow paint chipped from too many years of exposure to the elements.

She read the information posted on the side of the booth. That information, she noted, was in crisp black lettering that was obviously new. Every ride, game or carnival act was paid for in a certain number of tickets, ranging from one ticket to four. You could buy single tickets or bundles of ten or twenty. Aimee decided on a group of ten. That should be more than enough for the evening.

The man inside the booth looked to be about ninety. His leathery skin was wrinkled, and what hair he had was gray. But his eyes were sharp as he took their money and handed them tickets. “Be sure and check out the sideshow as well as the rides. Lots to see there.” He grinned, showing off his few remaining teeth.

A sense of unease slid over Aimee, but it was swept away as Sandra took her hand and all but dragged her onto the fairground. “Isn’t this great?”

Aimee stumbled but quickly compensated for the weakness in her left leg. Taking a moment, she looked around and soaked up the atmosphere. Everywhere, townsfolk were talking, eating and laughing. The air was filled with the sounds of mechanical whooshes as the rides swept people into the air. Some of them laughed, while others screamed. A Ferris wheel circled slowly with couples snuggled close in each seat. Lights flashed, and a cacophony of noise surrounded her. To a person who lived and worked alone, it was overwhelming.

She took a deep breath and continued to look around with undisguised interest, wanting to absorb all the colors and sights so she could recreate them later in her studio. Every experience was fodder for her art.

Games of chance were set up on one side of the field. They seemed to have all the traditional games one would expect at a carnival—fitting a hoop over a block of wood, getting a ball in the basket, shooting darts and firing air rifles at targets. The games were always rigged in favor of the carnival, but it didn’t matter. People still played and some of them even won.

Food stalls littered the fair grounds. The air was heavy with the aroma of grease and sugar. This was the kind of night when men stuffed their faces, women chucked their diets and parents allowed their kids special treats. She could smell hot dogs, popcorn, French fries, pretzels and cotton candy. Her stomach rumbled, vociferously reminding her that she hadn’t eaten any supper. She’d gotten caught up with work, yet again, and it had been too late to fix anything before Sandra had arrived to pick her up.

A teenager walked by holding a candy apple on a stick. The girl sank her teeth into the apple and pulled away a string of thick, sugary coating. Aimee licked her lips, but talked herself out of buying one. Maybe there was something halfway healthy to eat. A teenage boy sauntered past, his face buried in a mound of cotton candy. Aimee chuckled aloud. Then again, maybe not.

“Let’s go over here.” Sandra tugged on her arm, and Aimee turned and followed her friend.

She made up her mind to relax and enjoy the evening. She wasn’t fond of most of the rides—they were too wild for her taste—but she could watch Sandra on them. She could also enjoy some greasy, unhealthy, yet ever-so-tasty food and try her hand at a few of the games of chance.

Sandra led them to a large trailer with Funhouse stenciled on the side. On second look, it appeared to be two trailers clamped together.

“I’m not sure about this, Sandra…” Her voice trailed off as her friend turned to her, a frown on her face. Aimee realized she was doing it again. She was being a stick-in-the-mud. She vowed to be more positive as she walked toward the entrance. “I’m sure it will be fun.”

Smiling, Sandra took the lead and handed two of her tickets to the middle-aged man who sat outside the door. When he took Aimee’s tickets, he stared hard at her for a brief second, his gaze going to the scars on her face. She resisted the urge to cover her cheek with her hand. Instead, she stared back at him. He smirked as he dropped her tickets into the box beside him. “Enjoy yourself.”

Aimee clutched her purse tighter to her chest and followed Sandra inside, taking care as she went up the few steps that led to the entrance. Placing her right hand on the wall for support, she pushed her way through the long, red streamers that ran from the ceiling to the floor. Now that she’d begun, she’d see it through to the end. Maybe she’d even have fun.

Then again, maybe not.

The moment she stepped inside, her stomach clenched and sweat broke out on her brow. The walls seemed to close in around her. Sandra was nowhere in sight. She could hear her friend laughing somewhere in the distance. “Sandra,” she called out.

“Up ahead. Come on, these mirrors are great.”

Aimee hurried down the narrow corridor as fast as she could, ignoring the bright lights that flashed on and off, illuminating clown faces that adorned the walls. She’d always hated clowns.

Considering what she did for a living and the kinds of dreams she had, it seemed kind of stupid to say that. But it didn’t negate the fact. Clowns gave her the creeps with their painted-on faces and fake smiles. They always seemed to be sad and desperate instead of happy, hiding their true selves behind thick layers of makeup.

Feeling as if a hundred eyes were watching her, she worked her way down the narrow corridor. It widened, and she suddenly found herself surrounded by a circle of mirrors. She did a complete three-sixty and couldn’t even tell where she’d come from.

She caught a brief glimpse of Sandra, her long blonde hair and red leather jacket reflecting the light before she disappeared from sight.

“Sandra.” She called out to her friend, but the only reply she got was soft, feminine laughter, which seemed to be coming from a different direction.

Totally disoriented, Aimee placed her palm against one of the mirrors and stared at her reflection.

It was slightly distorted, but she easily recognized herself. Same slender build she saw in the mirror every morning, although this particular glass made her look shorter than her five-foot-six height. Her short black hair, pale skin and green eyes were all familiar enough. In the dim light, she could barely see the faint white lines that ran across her left cheek.

She turned to the next mirror. This one made her look slightly taller. Chuckling, she shifted to the next one. “Not bad,” she murmured. This one made her B-cup chest look much larger.

This wasn’t so bad after all. Aimee relaxed, determined to enjoy the novel experience. She smiled and glanced in the next mirror. The smile froze on her face and slowly disappeared.

Standing just behind her was an enormous white tiger, exactly like the one from her dreams. His white face was striped with black. A broad, flat nose and piercing blue eyes dominated it. His mouth was open, exposing a large pink tongue and extremely sharp teeth. Aimee was afraid to move, afraid to blink.

The tiger sat unmoving, muscles coiled, head slightly lowered. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her. She knew the beast could explode into action without a second’s notice and be on her before she could even think to move.

This had to be part of the trick of the mirrors. It was only coincidence that it was a white tiger. Maybe the next one would have a lion or a bear or some other animal. She glanced in the next mirror, but there was only her own reflection and that of the tiger.

Her palms were sweaty, her lips dry. “There’s nothing behind you. It’s just a trick of the light.” Even as she said it, she heard the heavy breathing of the animal behind her. “It’s just a soundtrack,” she assured herself. “It’s not real.”

Her stomach clenched and she felt light-headed. Where were all the other people? Where had Sandra disappeared to? She was totally alone in the room of mirrors. If you didn’t count the tiger, that is.

Knowing she had no choice, Aimee slowly turned, her sneakers squeaking against the flooring. She was practically panting now as she sucked air into her starving lungs. She had to calm down. Taking a deep breath, she held it as she swiveled the rest of the way around.

She blinked and then gave a short, nervous laugh. “Nothing. Of course there’s nothing. It’s just a trick of light and mirrors.” They probably had a hologram program they used or something like that.

It was time to leave the hall of mirrors. Placing her hand on the glass, she kept her fingers in contact with it as she began to walk around the room searching for the exit. A movement caught the corner of her eye, and she jerked her head around. The tiger was following her. No, it was stalking her. Head down, it prowled behind her, muscles bunching and rippling with each step it took.

Aimee yanked her gaze away from the beast. “It’s not real,” she repeated over and over as she let her hand slide over the panes of glass. One of them had to be a doorway out. She ignored the sound of heavy paws padding behind her. She ignored the loud chuff of breath and the low growl.

“It’s not real.” Her words weren’t as loud or as sure as they’d been. Maybe this was a hallucination brought on by all the stress she’d been under lately. She hadn’t been sleeping well either. That had to be it. She refused to believe there was an actual tiger behind her. She swallowed and kept searching for the exit, refusing to look over her shoulder.

This was as bad as one of her nightmares. She was trapped, unable to get out. It didn’t matter that the tiger looked exactly like the one from her dreams, the one that had always made her feel safe. Panic threatened, but she beat it back down. Years of practicing control in her life and in her dreams came to her aid. One step forward, feel the glass. Another step forward, touch the next mirror.

A slight breeze wafted over her face. A doorway. It had to be. She pushed forward and her hands met an open space. Making herself walk instead of run, she left the mirrors behind.

She started to peer over her shoulder, a part of her wanting to catch a final glimpse of the magnificent animal, but she forced herself to keep looking forward. The tiger wasn’t real and it couldn’t follow her. She was already freaked out enough without adding to it. Her shirt was plastered to her body and she drew her sweater tighter around her, cold in spite of the fact she was sweating.

The corridor was dark so she was forced, once again, to use her hands for guidance. She cursed herself for ever stepping foot in this place. Once she got out, she was treating herself to a hotdog and a cold drink. She wasn’t fond of carbonated drinks, but at this point, she’d take whatever they had. Maybe she’d even have some cotton candy.

A red light flicked on, and a clown popped out into the corridor, its macabre laughter surrounding her. Aimee screamed, her cry echoing off the walls. In the background, she swore she could hear the anguished roar of a tiger. As quickly as it had appeared, the clown disappeared back into the wall again. An automaton. “I hate clowns,” she muttered, forcing herself to continue. She had to get out of here, and to do that she had to keep moving.

Several more clowns, each one more bizarre than the previous, popped out and laughed at her as she made her way through the narrow corridor. And that’s what it felt like. They weren’t inviting her to laugh with them, or even trying to get her to laugh. They were laughing at her.

Great, not only was she seeing things, now she was paranoid.

Putting her head down, Aimee plowed down one corridor and then another, following the twists and turns that led her around the trailers. She knew she had to be getting close to the end. After all, it was only as big as two trailers, unless they had crossovers, which could keep her going in circles.

The familiar sound of the fairground finally penetrated her consciousness, and she hurried toward it. For a person who preferred to be alone, she’d never been so happy to see people as she was at this moment. Streamers, long and thin, brushed against her forehead and cheeks as she stepped out of the trailer. The cool night air hit her face and she took a deep breath.

The door slammed shut behind her so she couldn’t go back in. Not that she’d want to. She’d had more than enough fun in that place. Thankfully, she was at the opposite end of the trailers from where she had entered and didn’t have to see the smirking face of the attendant. She gave thanks for that small blessing.

Feeling shaky, she was careful walking down the few stairs that led back to the ground. When the grass was solidly beneath her feet again, Aimee sighed with relief. She glanced at her watch and was shocked to find that she’d been inside the funhouse almost twenty minutes.

Sandra was nowhere in sight. “She probably got tired of waiting.” A couple passing by gave her a strange look, probably because she was talking to herself again. That was a habit she’d picked up by living and working alone. Just something else to make the townspeople think she was a sandwich short of a picnic.

It was more likely Sandra hadn’t waited at all. Patience was not one of her friend’s virtues. Sandra was a bit self-centered, expecting the people around her to adjust to her schedule. Aimee figured because Sandra was so beautiful and outgoing she usually got exactly what she wanted. For the most part, Aimee didn’t mind. It was a small price to pay for friendship. Besides, it wasn’t like she didn’t have some quirks of her own that Sandra had to put up with.

Knowing she’d have to search for Sandra, she left the funhouse behind and headed toward the food and games. Maybe her friend had decided to get something to eat. More likely, some guy had offered to buy her some food or take her on a ride. She attracted men everywhere she went—young men, old men, middle-aged men and even married men. Sandra wouldn’t be alone for more than a minute unless she chose to be.

Aimee decided she’d get herself that promised hotdog and look around. They’d run into each other eventually. Hopefully, Sandra would be ready to go home by then.

Aimee wished she hadn’t let her friend talk her into sharing a ride here. If she had her own car, she could just go home. As it was, she’d have to find Sandra or go back to the parking area and wait by the car. It was just her luck that, in her hurry to leave for the carnival, she’d left her phone at home sitting in the charger.

It’s only for one night, she reminded herself. “Suck it up and have a hotdog.”

Determined to enjoy the food, she shoved all thoughts of the funhouse from her head and headed toward the food concession stands.