Wicked Games (Hartley Grace Featherstone Mysteries Book 3) by Gemma Halliday (books for students to read TXT) 📕

This seemed to appease her because she took a deep breath and nodded me on.

Slinking into the room so they wouldn't hear me was going to take ninja skills. Ones I did not possess. So I tried a different approach and crawled to the far corner of the hall, then around and under the living room archway, and finally to the back of the sofa on Mom's side. The entire time I hummed the Kim Possible theme song in my head.

I stopped, took a soft breath, and wiped away perspiration that dotted my hairline. I slithered along the floor behind the pair, trying to tune out any smoochy sounds they might be making. I moved very slowly so they wouldn't hear me. I was almost certain Mom wouldn't. She was in heart emoji mode. But a detective? I feared his powers of observation might be more keenly honed. This would've been a lot easier if I'd remembered to use the bathroom first too.

"What's wrong?" Mom asked.

I froze and stopped breathing. No, no, no! I couldn't be found now. Not only had I not completed my mission, but what would I say when she asked why I was on my stomach behind the couch? Looking for an earring? Trying to find a dust bunny?

"Nothing. Just had to readjust. My foot was falling asleep," Raley said.

My body unclenched, and I let out a long but hushed sigh of relief. They hadn't spotted me. All was good.

The couch springs squeaked, and I prayed they weren't any closer together than before. So all was almost good.

I reached the chair where his jacket hung. Sam was right. There was no way to ease it over without Mom and Raley seeing it move. While they were pretty engrossed in each other, even they would notice a floating blazer.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and texted Sam.

make a distraction now

Hours seemed to tick by, although it was probably just seconds, and then I heard a crash and a feeble cry.

"What was that?" Raley asked, and the sofa springs made more noise.

"Help me," Sam shouted. "I can't get up."

I smacked my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, certain Mom and Raley heard me. But they were too busy jumping up and running out of the room.

"Hartley? Sam?" Mom cried out.

Before I got a chance to grab the jacket, my phone vibrated in my hand. Sam sent a selfie of her sprawled out on the kitchen floor, her left leg bent at the knee, a chair lying on the floor beside her, and her giving me a grin.

I stifled a laugh and yanked the jacket down. Feeling inside the pockets, I hoped I wouldn't find anything I couldn't unsee. Like a condom he'd conveniently put in his pocket before coming over to my mom's house. Ick.

Luckily my fingers connected not with the proof my mother was actually dating but with the paper edges of a small notebook. Bingo.

I pulled it out, excited butterflies in my stomach, and quickly flipped through the pages as I listened to Mom and Raley attempting to help Sam in the other room.

I turned to the last page he had written on and couldn't decipher a word of it. Was it English? Had he taken penmanship in school?

Without time to figure it out, I turned on my camera and snapped photos. The pages were dated, so I went back three of them until the day before Connor died.

Mom and Raley were saying something, but they were still far enough off that I couldn't make it out, especially over the screams coming from the television.

I shoved the notebook back into the jacket pocket and stood up. I flung the jacket back to where it had been, and the notebook fell out onto the cushion. Crap.

"No, I'm fine. Really. I don't need an ambulance," Sam shouted.

I picked up the book, opened the jacket, and slid it into the interior pocket. Please stay put.

My heart leapt into my throat as I heard footsteps.

I took off and skidded back toward the stairs, hopefully looking like I'd just run down them. I was certain I was a sweating, wide-eyed, terrified mess when Raley rounded the corner with Mom and Sam behind him.

"What's going on? I heard shouting," I said and hoped my breathlessness could be explained by running down the stairs due to my best friend's near death experience.

Mom patted my shoulder. "It was nothing. Sam just slipped."

She and Raley went back to the sofa, and she said to him, "I may need to change my floor cleaner."

Sam grabbed my arm and whispered, "Did you get a look?"

I nodded. "Come on."

We ran back to my room and jumped onto my bed, nearly sending my laptop flying.

"You didn't actually get hurt, right?" I asked as we huddled over my phone.

"No. I kicked the legs out from under the chair. Your mom looked scared that I'd broken all of my bones though."

"Did she crush you in a hug when she realized you'd live?" I asked.

Sam chuckled and said, "No, but she gave me a normal one."

Nice to know SMother saved that vise grip for her daughter.

"What does it say?" Sam squinted at the picture of Raley's notebook page on my screen.

"I'm not sure." The notes were written in cursive, but it was sloppy enough that I had a hard time deciphering the letters. Not to mention it seemed to be written in some sort of shorthand.

"I think that's a B." Sam cocked her head to the side. "Or a P."

I blew out a sigh. This was going to take longer than I thought.

"Is that an S?" Sam squinted. "Yeah, an S and an L."

"Maybe?" I said.