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With smoking tires the Chevy slammed into the mesh, airbag deploying and then shrinking fast. The impact swung the gate wide open. It also sent two people sprawling to the pavement. One was a man on stilts
, dressed like a cowboy, and the other, gender indeterminate, wore a purple cat costume and held a matching parasol that read WELCOME, GUESTS!
Chapter 43
Dance had brought the children here a few years ago.
Global Adventure World was a theme park in Orange County, a smaller version of nearby Universal and Disney. Filled with typical rides, animatronics, holographic wonders, theaters featuring live and filmed shows, costumed characters from the parent company's films and TV programs. Also concession stands galore, ready to help you gain back in one day those three pounds you struggled to lose before your vacation.
As they sped to the front gate, where a dozen police cars were parked, Dance said, "Odd choice for a getaway."
O'Neil nodded. Security in these parks was the best in the nation. Tall fences. High-quality CCTV cameras were disguised as rocks or branches or hidden in light poles and rides, and undercover guards, unarmed but equipped with high-tech com equipment, roamed the grounds, resembling typical tourists. And it wasn't as if the unsub had tried to slip inside subtly to get lost in the crowd. No, he made as explosive an entrance as possible, crashing into a front gate, injuring two costumed employees then leaping through the breach and sprinting inside.
A hundred park visitors were standing in a loose crowd, some distance from the car, faint smoke wafting above. Easily half were taking pictures and videos.
Dance and O'Neil met with the incident supervisor from the Orange County Sheriff's Office, Sergeant George Ralston, a tall, round African American.
O'Neil asked, "Any sightings?"
Ralston replied, "None. Hey, Herb. Whatta you know?"
Another man joined them. He was tall and solid, and Dance thought, former cop. Introductions were made. He was the head of security for the park, Herbert Southern.
"No sign yet."
Dance asked, "Are you following him on security cameras?"
Southern said, "We were--sent our people after him. But he disappeared. Got lost in a crowd waiting for the Tornado Alley ride, named after the cartoon? One of the most popular here. Hundred people were queued up. Security went through the crowd but they couldn't find him."
Dance supposed they weren't particularly aggressive. Didn't want to spook the patrons. She imagined the key word had been subtly. Make sure the customers feel safe.
"Description?" Dance asked.
Ralston offered, "White male, over six feet. Longish blond hair, green baseball cap, unknown logo. Sunglasses. Dark pants, light shirt, beige jacket. Gym bag. It's white."
Blond hair. Of course he'd dyed it after Foster's leak to the press.
"Your security get a close-up of his face?" O'Neil asked.
"No. Kept his head down."
Dance said, "Well, he's not wearing any of those clothes anymore. If he didn't have a change of clothes with him in the bag, and I'll bet he did, he's bought a souvenir jacket and shorts and running shoes. And the gym bag is in a Global shopping bag right now. He can't change his hair color. So he'll have a different sort of hat. Cowboy maybe."
One of the big hits of the studio last year was a Wild West animation that won Oscars for something.
"And some people thought he was wearing gloves. Light-colored ones."
"He was," O'Neil said. "For the fingerprints."
"What's this about?" Southern asked.
"He's wanted in connection with a homicide in Monterey," Dance explained.
"The roadhouse thing?" Ralston asked. "And the other one, right? On the wire. Last night."
"That's right," O'Neil confirmed.
Dance added, "We came down here to look for a possible witness. The unsub beat us to it. He was at the apartment in Tustin--he killed the wit just before we got there."
