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

and nothing but the truth. I even confessed to looking at his notes, which morphed his concerned fatherly look into one of anger for a few seconds, but he didn't explode at me. Which I took as a good sign.

"And then Ellen hit her with the gaming console and called you guys," I finished. I licked my lips, watching his stoic expression. "She's not gonna be in any trouble, is she?"

"Ellen?" he asked. He shook his head. "No. From what it sounds like, she acted with appropriate force in the defense of others."

I nodded vigorously, wholeheartedly agreeing. "She saved my life."

He smiled, though his eyes still held a note of concern. "Then she's a hero."

I made a mental note to call her that in my article. To make sure the entire school knew what a brave hero the introverted, unassuming Ellen was. I felt horrible for ever having suspected her for a second, and I vowed to make it up to her in any way I could.

"And Chase? Is he going to be okay?" I asked, eyes going to the gurney where EMTs were still flashing little lights in his eyes and checking vitals.

Raley nodded. "He'll be fine."

I let out a long sigh of relief. "Really?"

"They're checking for a concussion. Considering he lost consciousness, it's likely. But he's alert and responsive, so those are all good signs."

I nodded, feeling tears leak from my eyes. "Thanks."

Raley put his hand on my shoulder again. "Your boyfriend's going to be fine," he said in his fatherly voice.

I should have corrected him, but in that moment, I really didn't mind anyone thinking of Chase as my boyfriend. As long as we were thinking of him alive, Raley could call him whatever he wanted.

"Did Chase say what he was doing in the booth?" I asked, thinking back to the male voice and the ominous thud I'd heard after I'd seen Sophia enter it.

"He said Sophia texted him. Said she saw someone drag you inside and thought you were in trouble."

My stomach clenched. "He went in to help me?"

Raley must have seen my eyes threatening to leak again as he patted my back awkwardly. "He's a good kid."

I nodded, the tears in my throat preventing speech.

"Anyway, I've already spoken to your mom," Raley told me.

My feeling of relief at Chase being okay was short lived. "You have?" I squeaked out, knowing it had been inevitable.

"Yeah. She's on her way." He pursed his lips together, giving me a long, assessing stare. "Look, maybe we should give her a slightly edited version of events tonight."

I paused, feeling my eyebrow rise. "You want to give her an edited-for-Mom version?" I asked.

He grinned. "I hadn't thought of it like that, but yeah. I mean, I'm not going to lie to her, mind you."

"Of course," I agreed.

"But I might want to soften some of the dangerous edges a bit. You know, for her sake." He paused, grinning again. "What do you say?"

"I say that's a great idea," I told him. What do you know? Maybe Raley wasn't such a terrible guy after all. Look at him worrying about Mom's feelings that way. And if his worry kept me from being grounded for the rest of my natural life, well, so much the better. Maybe I could handle him being around a little longer after all.

*   *   *

The next day, Mom kept me home from school, citing the need for a mental health day. I promised her my mental health was fine, but she said it wasn't my mental health she was worried about. Despite our edited version, Mom had, as expected, freaked out at the idea of me being in the sights of a murderer. Again. I'd been hugged within an inch of my life (which I really hadn't minded), scolded about putting myself in danger (even though, in all fairness, it had been Sophia putting me in danger, not me putting myself in danger), and moaned to about where Mom had gone wrong in raising a daughter who was constantly targeted by killers.

I'd countered that it wasn't a constant state. And that she must have done something right in raising me, because we'd brought a killer to justice. But the word killer hadn't gone over very well, and in the end I had agreed—Mom could use a mental health day.

So, I'd slept in, eaten a big breakfast of quinoa pancakes with agave syrup, and played board games with Mom and binge-watched Netflix shows all day. It wasn't until after dinner that she'd chilled enough to let me go to my room alone and type up my firsthand account of the confession from the Gamer Con killer for the Homepage.

I'd just finished it up and sent it off to Chase when I heard Mom call up the stairs.

"Hartley? You have a visitor!"

"Be right there," I yelled back, expecting it to be Sam with an armload of homework for me. I hit Send and quickly ran down to meet her.

Only, it wasn't Sam at the door but Chase. He was standing in the foyer, conversing politely with my mother. He looked up as I approached, and I could see a white bandage taped to the right side of his forehead. Dark circles under his eyes betrayed the fact he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, but other than that, he looked like his usual self, dressed in a pair of dark jeans, combat boots, and a black hoodie.

"Hey," he said, raising a hand as I hit the last stair.

"Hey," I said back, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious that I hadn't looked in a mirror in hours. I was still in my Netflixing sweats and fuzzy socks with little unicorns on them. Not exactly sophisticated loungewear.

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need me," Mom said,