Wicked Games (Hartley Grace Featherstone Mysteries Book 3) by Gemma Halliday (best e reader for manga txt) 📗

at the con, Sam got a text from Kyle, who planned to meet up with us later after rugby practice. Sam pulled me in close for a selfie with her in front of the huge Gamer Con sign as we waited in line just inside the main entrance to the convention center to have our passes scanned.

News of Connor's death hadn't seemed to affect the turnout that day at all. If anything, the place looked even more crowded than it had on the first day. While there was a smattering of people dressed in street clothes, most had gone all out in cosplay outfits, and I spotted several groups that looked like they'd coordinated to match. Some zombies converged near the entrance, and I could see a whole gaggle of scantily clad Mortal Combat ninja-ettes freezing in the ticket line to our left.

I felt my phone vibrate at my hip and looked down to find a text from Chase.

Where r u?

I glanced around for a landmark. Near the giant monkey guy.

monkey guy?

donkey kong?

That earned me a laughing emoji, and a couple of minutes later I spotted Chase's form walking toward us.

Predictably, he'd arrived again in street clothes—a pair of black jeans, a black T-shirt with a picture of a severed horse head on the front, and black combat boots. His hair was done in messy spikes in a way that looked nonchalant and trendy all at the same time, and he nodded as he approached us.

"Hey," he said. He turned to my companion, who was still texting Kyle. "Looking good, Sailor," he said, a half smile playing on his lips.

"Thanks," she told him, not even looking up. She was writing a book.

"You too, Ellie," he added. The other half of the smile curved as he looked my outfit up and down.

Even though I had zero skin showing, somehow I felt exposed under his gaze and willed myself not to blush. "It's Sam's doing," I mumbled.

He shrugged. "She done good. So, how's the story coming?" he asked, suddenly all business.

As we moved through the line and inside the main hall, I quickly filled him in on what we'd seen in Raley's notes the night before, our visit to Sophia's that morning, and our suspicions about Jason Pruit. "It's possible Connor could have been fed up with his manager controlling him," I concluded.

"And Pruit killed him over it," Sam added.

Chase nodded. "I guess it all depends on what sort of temper the manager has." He turned to me. "You didn't get the name of the eyewitness in Raley's book, did you?"

I shook my head. "He didn't write it down."

Chase shrugged. "Well, I think it's a cool angle for the story. Different from what the mainstream media is going with, right?"

"Right," I agreed, feeling a little lift of pride at his praise. "We tried calling Pruit's office, but he's out until tomorrow."

Chase nodded. "Well, in the meantime, maybe we can get some photos of the VizaSoft booth. Maybe even ask around and see if we can find anyone who witnessed their argument."

"You think Raley's eyewitness is here today?" Sam asked as we made our way into the main hall.

"It's possible. If he had passes for the whole weekend."

"Or she," I noted, pushing through the sea of bodies. "But what are the chances we'll find them in all these people?"

"Let's start at the VizaSoft booth," Chase decided.

I nodded, following him as he threaded through the masses toward the escalators. With the crowds, it took us what felt like forever to navigate to the back of the main hall. Along the way, I could see that security was much more present than it had been the first day of the con—uniformed guards making their presence known as they surveyed the crowds at the end of every aisle. I figured the beefed up protection was supposed to make us feel more comfortable, but instead it was having the opposite effect on me—making me feel antsy, like a killer was walking among us somewhere.

That feeling was only amplified as we reached the abandoned VizaSoft booth. It had been roped off with yellow crime scene tape, and a waist-high barricade of metal gates had been erected around it. It might have been my imagination, but it seemed like convention goers were giving it a wide berth, averting their eyes as if not wanting to be reminded that something awful had happened there.

Chase pulled out this phone and took a few pictures from various angles, but there really wasn't much to be seen. All the action had been the day of the murder, and now it just looked sad and abandoned.

"Hartley?" said a voice behind me.

I turned and spotted a Pokémon coming toward me. It took me a minute to realize I knew the face encased in the yellow Pikachu outfit. "Ellen," I said as she approached us.

"Nice look," she told me. "And love that!" she said, turning to Sam.

"Thanks. An oldie but a goodie."

Ellen nodded to the VizaSoft display. "So sad, right?" She shook her head. "I halfway hoped that I'd come in today and the display would be up, the line would be long, and Simon would be alive." I could see her starting to tear up behind her glasses.

"It's such a tragedy," Sam agreed, putting a hand on Ellen's paw.

Ellen sniffed then glanced at Chase, who was getting a closeup photo of the life-sized image of Sophia as Athena on the side of the booth. "What are you guys doing?"

"Taking pictures. For the school paper."

Ellen nodded. "Right. I read your story this morning." She glanced at Chase. "Are the police any closer to knowing who killed Connor?"

"I don't know," I told her honestly. "But we're working on a couple of theories."

"Oh?" She gave me her full attention. "Like