Wicked Games (Hartley Grace Featherstone Mysteries Book 3)

by Gemma Halliday

  "Um…what's this?" I asked.

  Sam blinked her eyes—rimmed in thick black eyeliner—at me. "What?"

  "The outfit?" I prompted, gesturing to her clothes.

  "It's my costume. I'm Link." She paused, looking at my jeans. "Where's yours?"

  I shook my head. "I'm going as a reporter. Convincing, no?"

  Sam shrugged. "Suit yourself, but you're going to look ridiculous going to Gamer Con in that."

  * * *

  One bus ride (where Sam got looks ranging from amusement to fear that she'd lost it) and thirty minutes later, Sam and I were at the San Jose Convention Center, a large structure in the center of downtown with a facade painted with geometric graphics that looked like they belonged on a skateboard. We bought our passes in the lobby on the lower level, then looped lanyards with our badges around our necks and made our way to the exhibit halls on the upper level.

  My first thought as we stepped off the escalators was that I needed to listen to Sam more often. Everywhere I looked were life-sized video game characters. Kid sized ones. Adult sized ones. I even spotted a couple of service dogs dressed as Pokémon. It was like I'd stepped out of the real world and into an actual video game. I blinked, trying to get my bearings in the alternate reality.

  To our left was the main hall where tons of booths lined the walkways, selling everything from vintage cartridge games to posters to stuffed animals of game characters. To the right, across the concourse, a food court had been set up where taco booths and burger stands stood, filled with gamers already downing their breakfast in its various fried forms. And everywhere I looked were posters and banners and signage for games—both in English and in Japanese.

  While I obviously wasn't a huge gamer myself, I did own an Xbox and had spent a fair amount of time with my little pink Nintendo DS on long car rides down to visit Dad in LA. I recognized some of the games as old favs, and, I'll admit, amid the fanfare my inner geek started to get a little excited.

  I did a quick scan near the entrance to the main hall for Chase but didn't see his tall frame lurking anywhere. I sent him a text, telling him we were going in. Then Sam and I took to the exhibit hall, walking up and down the stalls.

  I pulled out my phone, taking pictures of some of the more elaborate costumes, checking out the different items on display, and mentally wording my article.

  After two hours of the deafening hum of voices echoing off the domed roof and the constant visual stimulation of bright colors and costumes, my senses were starting to hit overload. Thankfully, Sam and I came to the end of the first row of stalls, finding ourselves at the back of the convention center. Here some of the major game distributors like Electronic Arts, Sony, and Nintendo had large, enclosed booths set up for play, their latest games and systems on display. While they all had a crowd around them, I noticed an enormously long line in front of one booth, VizaSoft Industries.

  "What do you think is going on over there?" I asked Sam.

  She shrugged. "Let's go check it out."

  We followed the line that wound around the front of the large, fully enclosed booth, down a zig-zag of black ropes, and along the back wall of the hall, all the way past the next three rows of stalls. I was starting to get dizzy and wondered if it ever ended when I heard someone call out my name.

  "Hartley!"

  I turned to find a giant Pikachu waving me down from halfway through the line.

  I squinted past the pudgy yellow limbs and pink cheeks, trying to figure how Pikachu knew my name.

  "It's me. Ellen!" she called.

  Sam and I walked closer, and I recognized her as a girl from my 4th period Spanish class. "Hey, Ellen."

  "Wow, I didn't know you were a Gamer Girl!" she said, her eyes big and round behind a pair of glasses.

  "I'm covering the event for the school paper," I explained. Even though I mentally tucked her phrase away for later use. "Gamer Girl" had a nice ring to it and would describe the scantily clad cosplayers I'd seen that day to a tee.

  "It's something, right? I'm in, like, heaven right now," Ellen said.

  Ellen was tall, had brown hair cut into a pixie style and big brown eyes with the kind of long, natural lashes that a fair-skinned blonde like me seriously coveted. We'd gone to different junior highs, so I didn't know her much more than to say hi to. She'd always struck me as the quiet type, but I could tell that something about being in costume was drawing out her inner extrovert.

  "What's the line for?" Sam asked, craning to see the beginning of it.

  "They're letting people get a sneak peek at Athena's Quest."

  I gave her a blank look.

  "You know, the new Simon game?"

  More blankness on my part.

  Ellen rolled her eyes. "Ohmigosh, you don't know Connor Simon?"

  I shrugged and looked to Sam, who, by the way, was also bathed in blankness, so I didn't feel too bad at my ignorance. "Sorry. I'm guessing I should?"

  "Uh, yeah! He's only like the biggest name in gaming. He's like…like…" She paused, sputtering as she grasped for the right words. "…like the Steve Jobs of games. He's a total rock star."

  I glanced down the line. I hadn't noticed before, but almost the entire line of costumed followers were female. And they were all bouncing on their toes the way that Ellen was.

  "He's done Hera's Pride, Triumph of Nyx, and the whole Muses of the Gods series," Ellen said, ticking the game titles off on her fingers. "But Athena's Quest?" She paused for emphasis. "This is supposed to be the big breakout epic. I cannot wait!" She giggled, and bounced on her yellow, foam-clad toes again. "You can read all about it on the VizaSoft website," Ellen said, gesturing to the banner hanging above us that advertised the company.

  I grabbed my phone and scanned the QR code on the banner. Sam looked over my shoulder as we scrolled through the official press release for the game.

  Apparently Connor Simon was being credited with revolutionizing the gaming industry by creating games geared specifically for female users. He'd made a name for himself by leaving out the pink covers and Barbie-style graphics of past girl-geared games, instead creating a line of female warrior centric games with challenging levels and innovative graphics to rival anything the gaming world had seen. Athena's Quest was the crowning jewel in his Ancient Goddesses series. The photos showed Athena as a tall, blonde-haired warrior with striking blue eyes and lithe, long limbs…mostly bare. The game promised an "epic adventure the likes of which players have never seen." It was set to hit stores next month, though preorders had already sold into the millions.

  Wow. I glanced at the line again, feeling an urge to jump in. I was just contemplating how many hours it might take to get to the front when my phone buzzed in my hand.

  I looked at the readout. Chase.

  at food court now. lunch?

  I shot him a text back that Sam and I would meet him there. Then I exchanged numbers with Ellen, telling her to let me know how the game was.

  "Happy to!" she told me, her attention back on the line as she moved a half step forward.

  * * *

  Chase was at a table sandwiched between a smoothie stand and the Tekken Taco Bar. Next to those were the Super Meat Boy's Super Meaty Grill, Mario & Luigi's Pizzeria, and a cart selling Charmander Churros. Chase was predictably not in costume, instead wearing a pair of black jeans, a black T-shirt with the logo of some band I'd never heard of with a bat and a lot of blood, and black work boots. As he lifted a greasy-looking burger to his mouth, I could see amusement dancing in his dark eyes at the patrons surrounding him. Amusement that only grew as he saw Sam approaching.

  "Well, good afternoon, Linkette."

  I'll admit, I was surprised he knew who she was. Hmm…maybe Bad Boy had a little gamer geek lurking inside him.

  "Hey," I said by way of greeting, taking a seat at his table. "You're late."

  "Sorry. Car trouble."

  Chase was hands down the worst driver I had ever ridden with. He drove a black Camaro with a dent in
the fender and a muffler that was hanging on for dear life. And he drove it fast. While I almost never sounded like my mother, I felt her creeping into my voice every time I rode with Chase. Which, thankfully, was not often.

  "That's fine," I told him. "Sam and I were having fun exploring."

  Chase winked at me. "I knew there was a little inner geek in you."

  I stuck my tongue out at him. "For your information, geek is chic."

  He grinned, shooting a glance at Sam. "Apparently."

  "Anyway, I got a few cool shots, I think," I said, showing him the pics on my phone.

  He leaned in to look.

  Leaned in close.

  I wasn't sure if it was on purpose or not, but I could suddenly feel his warm breath on my cheek as he scrolled through the pictures. I tried really hard to look like I wasn't intentionally inhaling his aftershave.

  "These are good," he said. "I like the Five Nights at Freddie's crew."

  I licked my lips. "Thanks," I said, the word coming out a little higher than I'd meant it to.

  Chase shot me a look.

  I ducked my head down, hoping my hair covered the heat I felt filling my cheeks.

  "Got a headline yet?" he asked, popping a fry into his mouth.

  I shrugged. "I'm working on it."

  "I'm starving," Sam piped up beside me. "I think I need a Charmander churro."

  My rumbling stomach agreed. We stood in line, got our snacks as Chase finished his burger, then the three of us headed back into the main hall to explore the rest of the aisles as Sam and I nibbled our fried cinnamony treats.

  But as soon as we entered the hall, we realized something was up.

  Costumed people were swarming toward the back of the convention room, pushing and shoving, their heads craning to see over each other.

  "Oh, maybe it's the giant Yoshi!" Sam said, standing on tip-toe as we followed the crowd.

  I saw a security guard rush past, shouting codes into his walkie-talkie. A con organizer with clipboard followed him, her face pinched.

  "I don't know if that's it," I said, a nervous sensation taking hold in my stomach. Something didn't seem right.

  "Oh, watch it," Sam said as a giant Sonic with three-day stubble bumped into her. In fact, everyone was bumping into everyone, rushing with urgency, though I wasn't sure which direction they were going. It was as if everyone felt the need to move, but no one was sure where to go.

  Panic was starting to set in when I spotted a giant ball of yellow fur ahead of us.

  "Ellen!" I cried, grabbing her arm.

  She spun to face me, her cheeks stark white beneath her makeup, her eyes big and round behind her magnifying frames.

  "It's so awful, right?" she said, her voice high and tight.

  "What? What's going on?" I asked, hearing fear seep into my own voice.

  Ellen licked her lips. "It's Connor Simon."

  "The Athena game guy?"

  She nodded.

  "What about him?"

  "He's…" She paused, her eyes wide. "He's dead."

  CHAPTER THREE

  An hour later, the back half of the convention center had been cleared out and yellow crime scene tape was draped where just that morning a line of eager gamers had stood. The food court, however, was doing a brisk business, overflowing with people speculating on just what had happened to Simon.

  "Maybe someone was angry they couldn't get past level twenty-one and killed him."

  "Maybe he had a seizure from staring at the screen too long."

  "Maybe he choked on a Cheeto." (I'll admit, this last one was mine. Don't laugh—it almost happened to me once in the school cafeteria. Lucky Sam knew the Heimlich.)

  I watched as a portly, freckled, red-haired man walked into the convention center in a suit that looked about ten years too old and two sizes two small. I recognized him immediately. Detective Raley.

  Churro in hand, I ducked behind a cardboard cutout of a giant pink Kirby to avoid his gaze. Not that I had anything to hide. But Raley reporting back to Mom over a candlelight dinner that he'd spotted her daughter at a crime scene was not ideal.

  "Hey, isn't that your mom's new boyfriend?" Sam asked, licking cinnamon sugar off her fingers beside me.

  I cringed. "He's not her boyfriend. They're just…dating. Kinda."

  "You're close with the detective?" Chase asked, coming up behind me.

  "No!" I said emphatically. "I just know him. Sorta."

  "Go ask him about the case," Chase urged.

  I spun on him. "Are you crazy? If my mom finds out that I was at a crime scene, she'll ground me until I'm using a cane."

  Chase smirked. "I doubt that."

  "You don't know my mom."

  Sam nodded in agreement. "Hartley's right. She would."

  "This is a huge story," Chase pointed out. "And you have the advantage over every other press outlet in town. You're actually here. You're really just going to let this opportunity slip through your fingers?" he asked, wiggling his own digits to emphasize his point.

  I pursed my lips together. I could see the challenge in his eyes: Are you a real reporter, or are you afraid of Mommy?

  I'll admit, I contemplated that for a beat.

  "Fine," I finally agreed. "I'll get the story."

  Chase grinned. "That's my girl."

  Was it weird that the pronoun my before the word girl suddenly made my churro feel squishy in my stomach?

  I turned toward the back of the main hall, slowly making my way through the crowd of onlookers to the edge of the yellow crime scene tape. I watched Raley approach the VizaSoft booth, his trusty little notebook in hand as he talked with a security guard and then a uniformed officer. Yes, actual paper notebook. He was so old.

  I'd have given anything to be able to hear what he and his officer were saying, but they were too far away. I leaned forward, straining over the noise of the spectators. Unfortunately, unless I learned to read lips, there was no way I was getting this convo.

  Police swarmed everywhere, and I noticed several of them questioning people behind the yellow tape. I spotted the con organizer I'd seen earlier hugging her clipboard and a blonde woman in a little pink dress who was tall enough to tower over the officer beside her, both being questioned. The blonde was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, gesturing wildly with her hands as she answered the officer's questions.

  I stood on tip-toe, trying to get Raley's attention over all the commotion. I watched the officer next to him gesture to the booth, Raley nod, then turn his gaze out over the crowd, slowly surveying the room with a stoic expression. That is, until his eyes stopped on me. Then the expression was a little less stoic and a little more scowlish.

  I gave him a little one finger wave.

  Which did nothing to alleviate the scowl. He left the officer, shoving his notebook into his jacket pocket before he made quick strides toward me.

  "Hartley," he said, his voice deep and gravelly.

  "Detective Raley."

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Me?" I asked, trying to infuse my voice with innocence. "Just eating a churro."

  The scowl deepened, making thick creases between his strawberry blond eyebrows. "Why are you at my crime scene?"

  "Hey, this was totally not a crime scene when I got here. It was just a convention."

  While I thought that argument was quite convincing, this was at least the third time I'd shown up at one of his crime scenes. So I could see why he was suspicious.

  "Does your mother know you're here?"

  I shot him a look. Classic intimidation move, bringing the SMother into it.

  "As a matter of fact, yes," I said. I didn't add that she had no idea a death had occurred here. "I'm here reporting on the con for the school paper," I explained.

  Raley looked out over the assembled group of costumed onlookers again. "The con is suspended for today. Go home."

  I shook my head. "Can't. Buses don't come by for another half hour."

  Raley narrowe
d his eyes at me.

  I put my hand (the one not holding the churro) up in a surrender motion. "Hey, don't blame me that California's public transportation sucks."

  He grunted, though I wasn't sure if he was agreeing or disagreeing with me. Either way, I cleared my throat, getting to the point.

  "So, Simon's dead, huh?" I asked.

  Raley nodded. "It appears that way."

  "What killed him?" I asked, doing my best at a nonchalant, conversational tone.

  But Raley wasn't having it. "Go wait for the bus, Hartley."

  "Come on, this is the biggest story ever."

  "This is a police investigation," he told me.

  "But I'm a member of the press. Don't I have any rights?"

  "You're a member of a high school paper."

  "At a public school. Which makes it a legitimate, government-sanctioned press."

  Raley pinned me with a hard stare. Clearly my speech and debate skills were lost on him.

  "Look, I'm sure all the gory details are going to leak out soon anyway. Heck, it's probably already all over YouTube," I told him, gesturing at the crowd around us. Sure enough, at least four Minecraft Creepers had their smart phones out, filming the crime scene tape as we spoke.

  Raley frowned. While I was pretty sure he knew what YouTube was, he was a generation behind in his technological skills. He used computers to type up reports—not for entertainment.

  "We won't have an official cause of death until the ME can examine the body," he said, his voice a flat monotone.

  I rolled my eyes. "I didn't ask for the official cause of death, just how did he die?"

  "You want to be official press? That's our official press release," Raley said.

  I seriously had no idea what my mom saw in this guy. "You're killing me here. Anything? Just…was it an angry fan or did he choke on a Cheeto?"

  Raley frowned again, though this time there was a hint of smile accompanying it. "Choke on a Cheeto? Where did you hear that?"