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

behind a cardboard cutout of Spiderman, trying to get a profile shot of Phoebe.

But even from the side, the hood covered most of her features. The only part of her sticking out were her hands, as they turned the knob on the exit door and she slipped inside.

My heart beat hard against my chest. We had her. Our trap had worked. Phoebe had taken the bait.

All we needed now was a clear shot.

And it was up to me.

I pursed my lips, making a quick decision, and bolted forward, slipping beneath the crime scene tape again. Only instead of going inside the booth, I crouched down behind the partition that had been erected, hoping it shielded me from too much of her view when she exited the booth.

I could hear her moving around inside, her boots clomping against the wooden floorboards. Then silence. More clomping. She was obviously waiting for Chase and me to show up with the evidence of her dirty deed.

My heart pounded so fast I feared it might burst right out of my chest as the seconds ticked by.

Then finally I heard another sound. This one a voice. It was too muffled to recognize, but I could tell it was low and male.

Then it got louder, one line clear to my ears.

"What are you—"

That was as far as the voice got before it was silenced. Then there was a thud. A groan. And more clomping steps.

I bit my lip. What was going on in there? Who was with Phoebe? The voice had sounded male for sure. Tyler? Possibly. But it seemed older. Maybe Pruit? Had Phoebe and Pruit conspired to kill Connor together?

I thought about running around to the other side of the booth to tell Chase, but I was afraid I might miss Phoebe leaving and lose my opportunity to photograph her.

That is, as long as she left the way she'd gone in. Which was not a given.

I took a deep breath, sucked up the last bit of bravery I could muster, and slithered along the walls to the door. With my phone in one hand, I slowly pulled the door open a crack, peeking inside.

I could see Phoebe. Well, the back of her anyway. The hooded cloak still covered much of her from view. I didn't see her companion as I blinked in the darkness. I was about to concede that he'd left through another door and hope that one of the others had caught him on camera, when the hooded figure suddenly turned toward me.

And her eyes went straight to mine.

"Hartley."

I would have answered, but my breath was frozen in my throat at the sight in front of me.

The dark hood had hidden not only her face but her long, shiny golden hair, braided into a regal goddess-like strand hanging down around her slim shoulders.

Sophia.

But the more shocking part was not her identity, but what she held in her right hand.

A shiny silver gun.

Pointed right at me.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Come in," Sophia said, gesturing with the gun. More a command than a welcoming suggestion.

I licked my lips, temporarily frozen to the spot.

"I said get in here!" she ground out, the gun taking a huge step toward me. In reality, it was probably Sophia doing the actual stepping, but in that moment, all I could focus on was the gun.

I did as she asked, stumbling forward, my limbs feeling like Jell-O.

"Close the door behind you," she instructed, her voice flat and demanding.

I did, trying to tamp down the growing fear at being alone. In the dark. With a woman who it was now painfully clear was a killer.

"Y-you killed Connor," I said, somehow finding my voice. Even though it sounded as shaky as my legs felt.

Sophia's eyes narrowed beneath her too-thick brows. "Don't play dumb now, reporter girl. We both know I did."

I hesitated to point out that I wasn't playing dumb. I hadn't known she'd killed Connor until just that moment. Hadn't even really suspected her. She'd acted so sincere.

Though, I guess acted was the key word there.

"The community center acting classes. You've taken a few already," I said.

She chuckled and curtsied. "I'm pretty good too, huh?" She put a blank look on her face. Then suddenly took a shuddering breath like she'd been crying. "I just don't know what I'll do without him," she mocked. Then she let out a sob. Ending with a sneer that said she could turn it on and off at the drop of a hat.

I felt my stomach knot. She'd played me the whole time. And I'd bought it. "The tears were all fake," I said, anger at having been duped starting to chase some of the shake from my voice.

She smiled and shrugged. "Not all. I mean, I was kinda sad he'd ruined everything. Things would have been so much easier if I hadn't had to kill him."

"Why?" I asked. While I was honestly curious, I was partly asking to stall for time. Sam, Kyle, and Chase were all just a few yards away. The longer I kept Sophia talking, the better chance someone would get curious, like I had, and come looking for her.

Assuming they'd seen her. She had, after all, made her appearance on my side of the booth.

"Why what?" Sophia asked in response to my question.

"Why kill Connor?"

She cocked her hip to one side, her cloak falling away to reveal her tiny, perfect body in the tiny, perfect costume. "I would think that was painfully obvious to you at this point."

All that was obvious was that I was in serious trouble. I shook my head. "You said you loved him."

"I did!" she said, yelling suddenly.

I glanced behind her, hoping Chase might hear her.

"I loved him, and what did