Wicked Games (Hartley Grace Featherstone Mysteries Book 3)

with the kind of guilt I felt spreading across my cheeks.
"Yes. How many reporters do you manage on the school paper?" Phoebe asked. "Because we are looking for interns who have management potential down the line."
I did a mental sigh of relief.
"Oh, uh, seven. But a lot of what we do is virtual."
Phoebe nodded. "Well, we'd expect most of your time here to be in the office. We like to be more hands-on with our interns."
"I can do hands-on." It might have been my imagination, but I could swear there was the slightest hint of flirt in Chase's voice.
"Yes, well, let's look over the rest of your application then, shall we?"

CHAPTER SIX
Ten minutes later Phoebe had promised Chase that he'd hear back from Peak Games soon about the internship, and she'd given both Sam and me wan smiles that said we needed to up our games.
"Were you flirting with her?" Sam asked Chase as we crossed the parking lot back to his Camaro.
"What?" He scoffed. "Come on. No."
"If that's what it takes to get ahead, I'm never going to get an internship on my college app," Sam sulked.
"At least she didn't look at your application like it had been done in crayon," I reasoned.
Sam shrugged. "Still. Look who gets the job: the flirt."
"I was not flirting!" Chase protested again as he unlocked his car and we piled in. "Besides, I'm not her type. She clearly had a thing for Connor."
"Clearly?" I asked, turning to face him. "What 'clearly'? I didn't get that."
"Think about it. They were partners…they worked closely together…" He trailed off, giving me a knowing grin.
"You know, just because a guy and a girl work together, it doesn't mean they're into each other," I reasoned.
Chase's grin grew into a positively wicked smile. "Yeah, well, it doesn't mean they aren't either."
I licked my suddenly dry lips, hoping we were still talking about Phoebe and Connor.
Or maybe hoping we weren't.
"Well, even if they had been a thing," Sam piped up from the back seat, "it had to be a thing of the past. I mean, he left her, right? She'd be pretty ticked after that."
"Right." Chase sat back in his seat, fastening his seat belt. "But ticked enough to kill him?"
I shrugged, fastening my own belt. Tightly. "I guess it depends on if the split really was mutual or not." I paused. "You think the manager would know?"
"Connor's manager?" Sam asked.
I nodded. "Yeah, what was his name…Pruit? Phoebe said he had a hand in everything Connor did. He must know the details of the split."
"You think he'd talk to us about it?" Sam asked.
"Worth a try," Chase said, pulling out his phone.
A few quick clicks later he had the number for Silicon Valley Management on speaker phone. Three rings in, it was answered by a recorded voice that told us their offices were open Monday through Friday from nine to five and to please call back during business hours.
Chase hung up with a shrug. "I guess we can try again later."
Out the car window I could see the sun beginning to set. "While this has all been fun, I think I better get home before my mom—"
My phone chirped. I glanced down to see a text from Mom.
Where are you?
Too late. The SMother had caught my scent.
I'm with Sam, I sent back, feeling guilty for letting her assume I meant at the library and not riding around with Chase trying to ferret out a murderer.
Her response was immediate, like she'd been standing there staring at her phone, waiting for my reply.
Can you come home now? David is coming over for dinner.
Oh boy. The only thing I dreaded more than Mom's interrogation about how I'd spent my Sunday was enduring David in my house. With my mother.
"Is that your mom?" Sam surmised as Chase revved his engine and pulled out of the parking lot.
I nodded, shooting back a quick, on my way. "Can you drop me off at home?" I asked Chase.
"Sure," he agreed. He glanced over at my phone. "Everything okay?"
"Sorta." I shot him a look. "Raley's coming over for dinner."
"Your mom and the detective are getting kinda serious, huh?" Chase asked.
I scoffed and shook my head. "No. No way. I'm sure it's just a temporary thing."
One could hope.
"I don't know," Sam said. "Last time I slept over I caught them on the sofa—"
"Stop!" I commanded, putting my fingers in my ears. "I do not want to know what they do on my sofa."
Sam chuckled. "Let's just say they were canoodling."
I wasn't exactly certain what a canoodle entailed, but I was pretty sure I could never sit there again.
"Sorry," Sam offered. "Do you need me to come over for moral support?" She put a hand on my shoulder from the back seat.
I swiveled around as far as my boa constrictor seat belt would allow. "Would you?" I asked.
She nodded vigorously. "If it means avoiding the mood my parents are going to be in because Kevin has refused to move out once again? Heck yeah."
*  *  *
Once I'd cleared it with Mom for Sam to sleep over, and Sam had cleared it with her parents, Chase dropped us both in front of my house with a promise to meet us at the con when it re-opened in the morning.
Even with Chase's Speed Racer driving, it appeared that Raley had beaten us to my house. His beige sedan sat at the curb in front of my mom's azalea bushes.
I took a deep fortifying breath before leading the way up the front path to my door. I fished in my pocket for my key and twisted it in the lock, the scents of garlic and basil hitting