Wicked Games (Hartley Grace Featherstone Mysteries Book 3)

by Gemma Halliday

  "I can't imagine what you're going through," I said, grabbing a sandwich and a brownie. I hadn't experienced much personal death in my life, let alone losing someone that close to you. I knew what breaking up with a boyfriend felt like—that I had experienced, and it hadn't been pretty. In fact it had ended in a dead body, but that was a whole other story. "This must be really hard for you," I told her, trying to find the right words to express my sympathy.

  Sophia lowered her head and whispered, "Thank you."

  She and I sat in a moment of silence while Sam scooped potato salad onto her plate.

  Then Sophia raised her head and took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were moist and red, and I could tell she wasn't wearing any makeup. Though, even without it she was stunning, her eyes an exotic pale blue beneath fashionable thick dark eyebrows. She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the corner of her eyes, clearly a much prettier crier than I was.

  "It's going to be so weird without him," she said. Her eyes took on sort of a far-off look.

  "You were at the convention yesterday, too, right?" I asked. "I think I saw you there?"

  Sophia nodded. "I was there to support Connor. You know, with the new game launch."

  "Athena's Quest," I said. "I've heard about it."

  "Everyone has heard of it," she said. "Connor was a whiz at publicity." She picked up a brownie but instead of actually eating it, just started crumbling little bits onto her plate.

  "I assume you didn't see what happened to him?" I asked.

  She shook her head. "I went to the restroom. When I came back, I found him…"

  I cringed. I'd had no idea she'd been the one to actually find the body. I knew firsthand how jarring that could be. "I'm so sorry," I said for what felt like the hundredth time.

  Sophia closed her eyes, as if trying not to picture the scene. "I don't think I'll ever get the image out of my head."

  Sam set her fork down, looking like she'd lost her appetite.

  "The police were here, you know," Sophia said, her voice soft.

  I tried to picture Raley in her pristine white living room. I wondered if Sophia had offered him lunch too. Knowing Raley, he'd probably accepted. And taken a few brownies to go.

  "What did they want?" Sam asked.

  "They wanted to know about Connor's personal life. Friends. That kind of thing."

  "What did you tell them?" I asked, thinking I'd like to know about that too.

  But Sophia shook her head. "I told them he didn't have one." She sniffed. "A personal life, that is. I mean, he basically lived online, you know? When he wasn't with me." Her sad smile appeared momentarily again, but it was fleeting. "Anyway, they are saying it looks like Connor was…killed."

  That I already knew. I nodded sympathetically. "I heard the same thing."

  "Who would do such a thing?" She lifted her eyes to meet mine, and I noticed her lashes were wet.

  I licked my lips. "Did Connor have any enemies?"

  Her gaze went to the ceiling and she shook her head, as if digesting the question. "N-no. I mean, he was a gamer. It's not like he was in the mob or something, you know?"

  "What about professional rivals? Anyone with a grudge? Anyone who might want to hurt him?"

  She gave a humorless laugh and shrugged. "No. Why would anyone want to hurt Connor?"

  "What about at the company he worked for. VizaSoft?" Sam jumped in. "Did he get along with everyone there?"

  Sophia sucked in a long breath, still shaking her head. "I-I guess. I mean, sure Connor could be a little short with you when he was working or snap at people when he was in the zone. But enemies?" She shook her head again. "That's a little dramatic."

  So was bashing in someone's head with an Xbox, but I didn't voice that thought.

  "Tell me about the new game he was about to unveil. Athena's Quest," I said, taking a bite of brownie.

  She nodded, seemingly glad to change the subject. "Yeah, he was really proud of that."

  "It sounds like people are eager to play it," Sam noted. "I know our friend Ellen was a huge fan."

  Sophia smiled. "Connor had a lot of fans. Every time he'd see another pre-order come in, he'd get so excited. Like a kid on his birthday."

  "We saw the line at the con," Sam said. "It was hecka long."

  "A lot of girls were waiting to play it," I said.

  It might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw Sophia cringe at the word girls. Suddenly I wondered how she'd felt about her boyfriend's many female fans.

  "Like I said, he was a genius with marketing," Sophia answered, waving off any emotion I might have witnessed. "It's why VizaSoft picked him up. Athena's Quest was going to be huge for them."

  "This was his first game for them, wasn't it?" I said, remembering what I'd read online.

  She nodded. "Yeah, he just signed on with them in the fall. He'd had his own small company before that. Peak Games," she said with a lift of pride in her voice. "Or, he was the co-owner at least."

  "He had a partner in the company, right?" Sam added.

  Sophia's face clouded and she nodded. "That's right. Phoebe. Phoebe Lyons."

  "Did VizaSoft buy them out or something?" I asked, sipping my water.

  "Not exactly. Connor left the company after Hera's Pride came out. He said he wasn't happy with sales and wanted to go bigger. Then he signed with VizaSoft and contracted to put out Athena's Quest. It was going to be his breakout."

  "Wait—that kinda sounds like he ditched his partner." I shot a glance at Sam. "To go put out a big breakout game with someone else?"

  "Well, I mean, not like that," Sophia said, her eyes going from me to Sam. "I mean, they just decided to part ways."

  "So it was mutual?" Sam clarified.

  "I-I guess." She shrugged and shook her head. "Connor didn't talk about Phoebe a whole lot." She paused, her eyes going from me to Sam again, a note of suspicion in them this time. "Why do you ask?"

  Because someone had murdered Connor Simon, and a partner who had just been cut out of making millions on his latest game had a pretty decent motive in my book.

  "Was Phoebe at the con yesterday too?"

  "How should I know?" Sophia said, her eyes going down to her manicure. Chipped. The only thing not quite so perfect about her. "It was packed. A lot of people were there."

  That was the truth. "You don't know how we could get ahold of Phoebe, do you?" I asked.

  She shook her head. "I dunno. She's probably still trying to make Peak Games a thing." She sucked in a deep breath, as if talking to us had drained the last of her energy from her. "Anyway, you'll print something nice, right? Like, no trying to make him out to be some sort of sad statistic or something?"

  I slid off my seat, taking our cue to go. "Of course."

  "Thank you," she said. Then she slipped off her stool and pulled me in for a hug.

  It was so unexpected that I froze for a second and just stood there with my arms pinned to my sides in her embrace that smelled of lavender and vanilla.

  When she pulled away, her lashes were wet with tears again. "I just can't believe he's gone," she said.

  Sam and I mumbled some more condolences as she walked us to the door, and I left feeling awkward and sad—like I'd done a really terrible job of comforting a grieving girl.

  Sam blew out a sigh as we got into the elevators again. "I never thought I'd feel this sorry for a gorgeous model."

  I nodded. "I feel awful for her." I paused. "Assuming she had nothing to do with Simon's death."

  "She seemed pretty broken up," Sam added, hitting the button for the ground floor.

  "She's also taking acting classes," I noted.

  "That's a good point," Sam said. "But if we're talking motive to want Connor dead, I'm gonna have to go with the partner."

  I nodded. "Phoebe Lyons. I wonder if their split was really mutual."

  "Or if Connor ditched her as soon as a better offer came along."

  "I was wondering the same thing back there," I said as we stepped
off the elevator and back out into the sunshine.

  Sam pulled out her phone as I shielded my eyes from the glare. She did some typing and scrolling as we strolled back through the rows of boutiques. "It looks like Sophia was right. Phoebe is still running Peak Games. Can't see that they've put out anything new since Connor left though."

  "Are they local?" I asked, looking over her shoulder as we backtracked toward the bus stop.

  She nodded. "They've got an address in Sunnyvale." She clicked through another link. "Oh, and look at this! They're interviewing interns this weekend."

  "You looking for a summer job?" I asked.

  Sam grinned at me. "Noooo…but it sounds like the perfect cover to get into their offices to talk to Phoebe Lyons."

  "Whoa." I put up my hands in a halting motion. "Sunnyvale is like two bus rides away. I don't even know what line goes that far north. We're looking at like an hour at least. Both ways."

  Sam pursed her lips. "True." She held her phone up again, switching to her contacts screen. "Which leaves us with only one question."

  I hated to even ask… "What?"

  "Who do we call for a ride? Kevin or Chase?"

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Fifteen minutes later we were standing on Winchester at the bus stop, when Chase's Camaro came roaring to a stop at the curb. A cloud of exhaust arrived a split second after he did.

  In Sam's defense, she had texted her brother Kevin first. But he'd replied with a no can do. Turns out, Sam's parents had taken the opportunity of the long weekend to stage an intervention to get Kevin to move out of the basement and into his own place. Again. At last count this was their fourth attempt.

  So we'd been stuck with either learning the peninsula bus route, or calling Chase. I'd argued in favor of the bus right up until Chase had pulled up, hence our location at the stop where I'd been praying I'd see the number 60 amble down the street before the Deathmobile arrived.

  Clearly I was not on the angels' good list that day.

  "You ladies call for a ride?" Chase joked, rolling down the passenger side window and leaning across the interior of his car. He was dressed in his usual uniform of dark jeans and a black T-shirt with a logo on it from some band I'd never heard of. This one featured a scary looking clown holding a knife, and I'd swear the mocking grin totally matched the one showing off Chase's white teeth.

  "Thanks," Sam told him.

  I held off on the thank yous. If I arrived in one piece, I'd be grateful then. Now was still the time for prayers.

  Sam opened the passenger door and climbed into the back seat.

  I just stood there on the hard concrete a moment, gaze going down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of a big safe bus.

  "You coming?" Chase asked.

  "Maybe."

  Sam rolled her eyes. Chase grinned and gunned his engine. Twice.

  "So not convincing me," I told him.

  Sam tapped the top of her wrist, where no watch rested. "You want to get this story today maybe?"

  "Fine!" I relented with one last look down the bus-less street.

  I gingerly slid onto the passenger seat, trying not to inhale the musty combo of old leather and fresh oil. I barely locked my seat belt in place before Chase gunned the engine again. We lurched away from the curb, and I white knuckled the armrest and shut my eyes. I made all sorts of mental promises to be kinder to my little cousins, do all my homework on time, and keep my room clean if I could just be delivered to Sunnyvale in one piece.

  Several promises later, we finally pulled up to the address Sam had for Peak Games. I let out a long breath as we eased into a parking spot in the small lot and the car stopped vibrating.

  Peak was located on the second floor of a strip mall, above a small health food store with a window display of superfoods—fish oil, wheatgrass, hemp seeds, seaweed flakes, goji berries, matcha tea. Mom would have loved the place. I made a mental note to never tell her about it.

  I followed Chase and Sam through a lobby and up a narrow staircase, breathing deeply to get my adrenaline under control again after Mr. Chase's Wild Ride. Once we pushed through the doors, we stepped into a large, open room with a reception counter in front of several rows of desks. Most looked empty, which was not surprising being that it was a weekend. To our right sat a wall of monitors, all playing scenes from the company's games. While I didn't have first-hand player knowledge of any, I did spot characters dressed in sort of warrior-goddess attire and guessed that they were the series that Connor Simon had developed.

  Beside the monitors half a dozen young people sat in hard plastic chairs looking nervous. Most were dressed in jeans and T-shirts, but one guy in a full-blown suit jiggled his knee up and down, looking like he was going to pass out any minute. Clearly some people wanted this internship more than others. Despite all of the bodies, the chatter was at a minimum, and those talking were hushed about it.

  "May I help you?" a woman asked from behind the counter. She had dark hair in braids and a smattering of freckles along her cheeks.

  "Hi," Chase said, taking the lead. "We're here to interview with Phoebe Lyons for the intern position."

  "Did you fill out the online application?" she asked.

  "Uh…" Chase looked to Sam. She shrugged. "No. We didn't."

  "That's fine," the woman said, grabbing a couple of papers from a stack on the counter. "Put your name on the list, and you can fill out an application while you wait. Ms. Lyons is conducting interviews on a first-come first-served basis today." She glanced around the room. "So, you probably have a little bit of a wait before she's ready to see you."

  Fab. I glanced at my phone, noting the time. Mom still thought I was at the library doing schoolwork with Sam. Which, I sorta had been—I mean I was doing work on a story for a school paper. But if this dragged on too long, I had a bad feeling she'd get wise and start wondering where I was. Mom was no dummy. She knew I'd never last at the library for more than two hours.

  Chase thanked the woman behind the counter and dispersed the applications to us. I grabbed a pen from the cup on the counter, and the three of us sat in free chairs in the center of the room.

  "Name," Sam muttered beside me, filling in the blanks. "Address. Social security number." She glanced up at me. "I don't have mine memorized."

  "Just put something down," I said, looking around the room. "It's not like we're really applying."

  Sam cocked her head to the side. "I dunno. There could be worse places to spend a summer. I mean, this could look great on my Stanford application."

  "What's Unreal Engine?" I asked, my eyes scanning down to the list of qualifications. "And Unity?"

  "Development programs," Chase answered, his pen scribbling quickly as he filled in the form.

  "You know them?" I asked, peeking a glance at his application. He had a lot less white space than I did.

  Chase shook his head. "Not really. I mean, I've dabbled, but not well enough to really create content."

  "Don't interns just get coffee and stuff?" I asked, glancing over at Sam's application. Her "experience" section looked chock-full of after-school enrichment classes.

  I bit my lip as I looked back at my own paper. I'd handled the questions about name and address fabulously. And my penmanship was awesome. Everything else looked pretty empty.

  "What are you putting for your personal integrity statement?" Sam asked.

  "Integrity statement?" That's it. I was destined to work at a drive-thru.

  By the time the other half dozen applicants who'd come in before us had been called up one by one, Sam and Chase had filled in almost every line on their applications, and I had come to the realization I was useless in the job market.

  "Erikson." A thin guy in jeans and a black hoodie holding a clipboard stood next to the reception counter. "Chase Erikson?"

  Chase stood. "That's me." He gestured for Sam and me to follow. If Clipboards thought it was weird that we all wanted to interview together, he didn't say anything, just ticking off my and
Sam's names as we handed him our applications as well. We followed him around the corner to a small office along the far wall. The name Phoebe Lyons was etched in black on the frosted door. I spotted a similar closed door farther down. It didn't have a name on it, but I imagined it once read Connor Simon in the same boxy font.

  As we approached, Lyons' door opened, and the last person Clipboards had shown in, the guy in the suit, walked out. His shoulders were rounded, and the way he avoided eye contact with each of us suggested the meeting had not gone well.

  "Good luck," Clipboards told us, leading the way into the office.

  The back wall was one-quarter sheetrock and three-quarters glass, looking out onto the Burger King across the street. Not the most attractive view, but the large windows made the space feel bigger than it was. A sleek black desk occupied one side of the narrow room, and a round table and chairs sat at the other. Black picture frames holding awards, magazine covers, and various game posters hung on the walls, and a thick black throw rug ran from the table to the desk, covering most of the floor beneath.

  At first the room appeared empty, until I spotted a young woman standing in the corner on her phone. She was in her early twenties, probably close to Simon's age, and petite. She had brown, shoulder-length hair parted in the middle and big brown eyes behind a pair of red-rimmed glasses. In a red skirt, a light gray jacket over a white tank top, and a pair of navy sneakers, she looked more like an intern herself than the boss. A shiny diamond nose ring completed her youthful look.

  The woman turned and caught Clipboards' eye before quickly hanging up. "Hi. Sorry about that. Please, take a seat."

  She pointed to two gray cushioned chairs rimmed in chrome that faced her desk before sitting herself in the tall-backed leather one behind it. Chase grabbed a chair from the table and brought it over while Sam and I sat in the others, and Clipboards handed the woman our applications. She picked up a pen from her desk and gave Clipboards a curt nod before perusing them in silence as Clipboards slipped out of the room, shutting the door with a soft click behind him.

  I could tell as she got to mine because her eyebrows lifted and she looked up at the three of us, scrutinizing as if trying to figure out which one didn't belong.