Wicked Games (Hartley Grace Featherstone Mysteries Book 3) Gemma Halliday (13 ebook reader TXT) 📖

"Hello?" I called out. Mostly so I didn't accidentally walk in on Mom and her date doing anything disgusting enough that I'd need brain bleach.

Mom's head popped into the kitchen doorway as Sam and I shut the front door behind us. "Hartley! There you are. Didn't you say you were leaving the library ages ago?"

"Uh…did I?" She had a point. While Peak Games' offices were in Sunnyvale, the library was like five minutes away.

"I was starting to get worried." Mom put her hands on her slim hips. Encased not, I noticed, in her usual yoga pants but a little black dress that hit just a couple inches higher on her thigh than was decent for a woman of her age.

"We, uh, had to call Sam's parents to make sure it was okay for her to sleep over," I said quickly. Which had been true. I figured the fact that we'd done it en route from Phoebe Lyon's office was a detail she didn't need.

"Oh. Well, hi, Sam," Mom said, waving a hand covered in a red potholder at her. "Come on in. Lasagna's just about ready."

"It smells great, Mrs. Featherstone," Sam said, following me into the kitchen.

"Don't get too excited," I whispered to her. "This is my mom's cooking, remember."

As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, any appetite I might have had vanished at the unsettling scene before me. Raley stood near the stove, stirring a pot of sauce. He had a glass of wine in one hand, a dopey smile on his face, and he looked way too comfortable and at home in my kitchen. He turned as he heard us approach. "Hey, Hartley."

"Hey," I shot back. Maybe in a tone that was a little more defensive than friendly.

Mom gave me a look.

What? I mouthed back.

"Uh, David was nice enough to bring a chocolate cake for dessert," Mom said.

David. I refused to be on a first name basis with Detective Raley.

"Do you like cake, Sam?" Mom asked, her voice more chipper than the occasion warranted.

"Love it," Sam said, leaning in to see what was bubbling on the stove. "What's that green stuff?"

"Zoodles," Mom said.

Sam gave me a blank look.

"Zucchini noodles," I explained. I shrugged. "Told you so."

"They're higher in fiber than grain noodles and gluten free," Mom said. "Plus they complement the vegan ricotta."

"Vegan ricotta?" Sam gave me a wary look this time.

"Tofu," I translated.

Suddenly Sam looked as green as the zoodles.

Raley chuckled. "Don't worry. At least we have real cake to wash it down."

"Vegetables are real food," Mom said, giving him a playful swat on the arm, accompanied by a giggle. An actual giggle. Like a middle schooler.

"Well, I love cake," Sam said, clearly looking on the bright side.

"Hartley too. Chocolate is her favorite, David," Mom said.

"Actually, it's red velvet," I shot back.

Mom gave me that look again.

What? I mouthed again.

Be nice! she mouthed back as Raley turned his attention to the stove. Her eyebrows drew down into a firm line that said I was pushing it.

I resisted an eye roll. Mostly because my mom's date carried a gun. And the way she was looking at me, she might not be above using it.

"Sam, I heard you dressed up for the convention yesterday," Mom said, turning her perky voice on Sam to keep the chitchat light.

"Yeah. Link. It was old-school, but it was kind of last minute. I'm thinking maybe I can go a little edgier tomorrow though and try something more modern."

"Tomorrow?" Mom frowned. "You girls aren't thinking of going back, are you?"

"Well, yeah." I looked from Mom to Sam. "I mean, our tickets are good all weekend."

"No." Mom shook her head from side to side. "Hartley, someone was killed there!"

"Mom, it was hardly a random crime," I whined.

"You don't know that."

"The police do." I shot a meaningful look toward Raley. Who, by the way, had become inordinately interested in the sauce during our exchange.

He slowly turned around. "Hmm?"

"Tell my mom that there is not some random killer running around the convention center," I demanded.

"Hartley, that is no way to speak to a guest," Mom warned.

I took a deep breath. I counted to five. I was about to tell Mom what I thought of our "guest" when he piped up, beating me to it.

"Actually, I think Hartley is right."

He did?

"You do?" Mom asked.

Raley nodded slowly, eyes going from me to Sam. "We've secured the immediate crime scene and the convention is cleared to resume tomorrow. There are extra security measures in place, and I honestly don't think we're looking at a random crime."

"See?" I couldn't help saying.

The look came back.

I shut my mouth again. Better to quit while I was ahead.

"If this wasn't a random crime," Sam, who had been listening to all of this, said, "who do you think did it?"

But Raley shook his head. "I can't share information about suspects in an ongoing investigation." He turned to Mom. "But I do think the girls will be perfectly safe at the convention tomorrow."

I could see he was wearing her down. Either that, or she didn't want to look too crazy overprotective in front of her new boyfriend. "I don't know…" she hedged.

"Look, if it makes you feel better, I'll be sure to look in on them while I'm there tomorrow, too."

Oh fab. Just what I needed. Raley looking in on me. I made a mental note to make sure I was nowhere in when he came looking.

But the promise had the desired effect on Mom. The worry lines between her eyebrows smoothed out, and her shoulders sagged, her face giving way to a slow smile. "Well, I guess if you feel