Read a preview
Chapter 1
Chapter 1: The Fall
The spotlight followed Margot Delaine as she climbed the ladder to the trapeze platform, her sequined costume catching the light like scattered diamonds. Below, three hundred spectators held their breath, their upturned faces pale moons in the darkness of the big top.
Harriet Bloom sat in the third row, her notebook forgotten in her lap. She had come to the circus on a whim, seeking distraction from a difficult case that had consumed her thoughts for weeks. The traveling show had set up on the fairgrounds outside Millbrook, and the promise of something magical had drawn her from her cramped office at the police station.
The orchestra swelled as Margot raised her arms, acknowledging the crowd's anticipation. She was beautiful in the way that performers often are—not conventionally pretty, but magnetic, commanding attention with every gesture. Her dark hair was pulled back severely from her face, emphasizing high cheekbones and eyes that seemed to flash even from this distance.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the ringmaster's voice boomed through the tent, "I present to you the most dangerous act in the world of circus arts. Without a net, without fear, the incomparable Margot Delaine will perform the triple somersault—a feat that has claimed the lives of seven performers in circus history!"
Harriet noticed the slight tremor in Margot's shoulders as she gripped the trapeze bar. The catcher, a muscular man with graying temples, swung into position on the opposite platform. The drum roll began.
Margot leaped.
For a moment, she was flying, her body arcing through the air with impossible grace. She tucked, spinning once, twice—
The scream came from somewhere behind Harriet, but it was quickly swallowed by the collective gasp of the crowd. Margot's trajectory had shifted, her arms reaching desperately for the catcher's hands, but she was too low, too far.
She fell.
The sound of impact was something Harriet would never forget—a dull, terrible thud that seemed to echo through the suddenly silent tent. Then chaos erupted. People were screaming, pushing toward the exits, while performers rushed into the ring.
Harriet was already moving, her detective's instincts overriding her shock. She pushed through the panicked crowd, her badge appearing in her hand almost without conscious thought.
"Police! Everyone stay back!"
The ringmaster, a portly man with an impressive mustache now drooping with sweat, grabbed her arm. "Please, we need to—"
"I'm Detective Harriet Bloom, Millbrook Police. I need everyone to remain calm and stay where they are." She turned to the nearest performer, a young woman in a spangled leotard whose face had gone chalk white. "Is there a doctor with the circus?"
"Dr. Pemberton—he's with the animals, I think—"
"Get him. Now."
Harriet knelt beside Margot's broken body, already knowing what she would find. The trapeze artist's eyes stared sightlessly at the canvas ceiling, her neck bent at an angle that left no room for hope. But it wasn't the fall that caught Harriet's attention.
It was the thin line of blood seeping from a wound on Margot's palm—a wound that looked like it had been made before the fall, not during it.
Harriet looked up at the trapeze rigging, her eyes following the ropes and cables that crisscrossed the upper reaches of the tent. Something was wrong. Something beyond the tragedy of a performer's death.
"Nobody leaves this tent," she said quietly to the ringmaster. "This is now a crime scene."
