Picked Page 3

  The girls on the dance floor were really moving to the beat of the music, grinding their asses into fake people they didn’t even know, just like real life. I had typed to Justine five times before she answered, brushing me off by telling me she’d talk to me tomorrow. That was all I needed. I logged off, wondering about Becker Cole.

  Why would he create an interactive dating game? Why would he move here from Utah? I mean if the guy wanted to be a wife hoarder, wouldn’t he stay there, where it was more accepted? I couldn’t wait to hear what Marti found out, certain her detective skills were much better than mine.

  Chapter 3

  Yawning for about the hundredth time, I stretched my arms. I arrived at Mr. Zimmer’s house early, armed and ready with my discrete video camera. My dad had the camera installed. He said it was safer. None of the other agents had hidden cameras in their cars. I knew it was because my dad knew me. He knew I wasn’t slick enough to video tape a suspect without being caught. I didn’t mind. The camera was pretty cool. I’d learned all about it while sitting there, waiting for Mr. Zimmer to do something. Anything. My legs were getting stiff and my butt hurt, and I’d only been investigating for an hour.

  Checking for a nearby Wi-Fi signal, I sighed, disappointed I couldn’t log onto Picked with my phone. I tried doing it without an internet connection, but it was too slow. I opened my lunch box and ate my cheese and mayonnaise sandwich earlier than I’d planned. It was only nine in the morning, but I was hungry, or maybe just bored. Watching a little girl play in her driveway, I thought she was too little to be outside alone, especially around that part of town. The neighborhood wasn’t what you’d call safe. Not quite the ghetto, but close.

  I saw the mother come out and sit beside the child on the concrete step. That made me feel better, although I was sure the drink in her hand wasn’t coffee. She swished it around in the cup and scowled when she swallowed. The little girl was wearing a stained shirt, dirty shorts, and no shoes—probably the same clothes she slept in. Kids are so resilient. The little girl was as happy as could be, dancing around and singing.

  I was like that at her age, all the way up to six and three-quarters. Nothing was the same after that. My father was different, I was different, and my mother was dead. She was the adhesive that held us together. When she let go, our family frayed, unraveled, and ripped in two.

  “No,” I whined. “I don’t want to. Please don’t make me,” I pleaded with my dad, dragging me into the hospital room.

  “Cassie, you have to. Your mother loves you. You want her to come home with us, don’t you?” He shouldn’t have put that on me. I know that now. I would never have said that to a six-year-old child.

  He made me feel like it was my fault. It was all my fault. I should have gotten a look at the guy, I should have talked to her more when she was in the coma. I should have sung her songs and brushed her hair. I couldn’t do any of those things. Half her face was missing. I was afraid of her. There was no way I was going near her. I stayed by the door, wide-eyed and scared. That person wasn’t my beautiful mother at all. I didn’t know who this person was.

  Startling me from my neighborhood watch and my reminiscences, my phone rang. I jumped, sending it to the passenger side floor. Trying to retrieve my phone with a grunt, my head jerked from the restraining seatbelt and the forgetfulness of me placing it there. Stupid thing cut right into my neck. Ouch.

  “Hey, Dad,” I answered, trying not to sound like the scatter-brain that I was.

  “Where are you?”

  Boasting, I proudly beamed. “I’m working. I’m across the road from Zimmer, waiting for him to come out.”

  “Did you do a drive-by first?”

  “Drive-by? Why would I do that?”

  “Is the yard mowed?”

  “What?” I asked, glancing toward the freshly mowed lawn.

  “The yard. Is the yard mowed or not?”

  “Yeah,” I replied disappointed. I knew what he was getting at. That was like Private Investigator 101, something any idiot could figure out.

  “You can leave. Come into the office. I’ll go over a few pointers with you.”

  “I’m not driving in there for that. I’ve heard it all a thousand times.”

  I could hear the tension in his voice. “But you don’t listen,” my frustrated father accused. “What were you planning on catching him doing? Walking to the mailbox? Disabled people check their mail, too. Get out of there. You can go back in a few days, narrow down his routine and hopefully catch him then.”

  “Okay, but I’m not fighting traffic to come in there. There is nothing I can’t do at home.”

  “I thought you wanted this, Cass.”

  “Wanted what?” I feigned ignorance.

  “I thought you wanted to leave a legacy, do this for your mother. I’m not convinced your heart’s in it.”

  “It is. I’m fine. I’ll see ya later,” I lied. He wasn’t convinced because I wasn’t convinced. My heart wasn’t in it. I wasn’t sure where my heart was. I’d never gotten the chance to find out.

  Pulling away from the curb, I waved when the little girl waved first, thinking about my choices, or my dad’s choices anyway. My mother always gave me choices, hot or cold cereal, pink or purple socks, sandals or flip flops, McDonalds or Pizza, one ponytail or two? My dad didn’t know how to take care of me, not like my mom did.

  Avoiding the route where my mother lay, I took the long way home, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel to some melodramatic, cutting music. Driving home, I wondered where Becker Cole’s residence was. I couldn’t wait for the next day’s briefing so I could hear what Marti found out about him.

  After stopping at the store, I spent my night doing pretty much what I’d done since I moved into my own house. Snowball ate his customary can of tuna and I had grilled cheese and tomato soup. At least I had the game to figure out. That would keep me busy for a while.

  Looking around at the mess in my living room, I thought about tidying it up. I changed my mind, deciding I would rather learn more about the game, hoping to somehow meet up with Becker Cole while in there. I wondered if he played the game or just sat at home like a fat, feral cat cashing in on his fortune, pulling in hot kitties like a playboy. That’s probably exactly what he did. I bet he met all three of his wives right there on that game.

  Walking down the sidewalk of the city, I determined I was staying out of the club. I chose the coffee shop instead. I smiled, standing in line to order my fake cup of coffee. This game was so stupid. It was beyond stupid. I wasn’t allowed to sit until I ordered something. Choosing a café latte with vanilla, I paid using my counterfeit glitter money and chose a window seat. I watched people on the street, coming in and out of the shop, and ordering their bogus coffee.

  KC-Beer – You always drink your coffee with artificial sweeteners?

  Great. I should have chosen the night club. This was just what I wanted. Someone that went by the name of beer to hit on me.

  Cass – Does it matter? I can’t taste it anyway.

  KC-Beer – You always so edgy?

  Cass – Edgy? I ordered a cup of coffee with a shot of vanilla. How about you continue on, bother someone else, I’m not interested.

  I liked this game. Smiling, I boasted my telling-off abilities. I could never talk to someone like that in person. Hell, I probably would have gone out with the guy because I was afraid to say no had he been standing in front of me.

  That’s the part my father didn’t understand. He wanted me to be like him, full of power and control. I wasn’t. Plain and simple. I was more like my mother, not that she couldn’t hold her own. I’d seen her small frame stand up to my dad a few times. She usually won. It was the other people she couldn’t stand up to. Like our neighbor, Ms. Lead Foot. I don’t remember her real name. That was what my mom called her and that’s all I can remember her by. She used to fly up and down our street. My mother would get mad and complain to my dad, but never to her, and yet the woman walked all over her
. She could fly up and down the road all day, but when she needed something, she called my mom.

  “Clarissa, dear. Could you be a doll and run over to the drug store and pick up my prescription? I’m not feeling the best today.” Of course, my mother did it, complaining the entire time, but she did it.

  Looking up, I was pulled from my thoughts. The beer guy had been talking to me and I hadn’t even realized it.

  KC-Beer – Why are you playing a matchmaking game if you don’t want a match?

  KC-Beer – Hello?

  KC-Beer – Did you leave?

  KC-Beer – Cass?

  KC-Beer – I’m sorry. Let’s just sit down and have a cup of coffee and talk. That’s all.

  Cass– Sorry, I had to pee.Well, shit. That didn’t come out right. Why couldn’t I have typed, I was getting a drink, answering the phone, had company. UGH! I had to pee? Really, Cass?

  KC-Beer – lol that may be a little too much. You could have just said you were busy.

  Cass – I WAS busy.

  KC-Beer – You’re sort of a smart ass too, huh?

  Cass – Maybe.

  Answering beer guy’s questions, I did my own research, finding chat rooms, blogs, and forums about the game. They were basic pick-me-up questions. I answered when I heard the ding with quick, blow me off responses.

  KC-Beer – What do you like to do for fun, Cass?

  Cass – Oh, read, watch television.

  KC-Beer – That’s boring. I said fun. What could you spend hours doing and never get tired of it?

  Cass – I like to explore abandoned buildings. Does that count as fun?

  KC-Beer – Hmm? I’m not sure. It sounds a little creepy to me. What kind of buildings?

  Cass – All kinds. My favorite is old farm houses and barns.

  KC-Beer – Really? I’m intrigued. Maybe you should take me sometime. Let’s go outside and sit. It’s a nice evening.

  I sighed. He didn’t give me time to object, he was up and walking away from me before I had a chance. That was another one of the stupid rules. You couldn’t talk to someone across the room. The person had to be looking at you before you could type unless you were friends. I wasn’t adding this guy as a friend. No way.

  Following beer guy to a table outside, I tilted my head. He had a very nice backside for a fake person. I wondered how he looked in real life, betting he looked nothing like his hot character. Holding the door for me to walk in front of him, he smiled down with a toothy, white, crooked grin. I wondered if his smile was really like that and if his eyes were really that blue.

  I continued to read, only clicking back to the game when I heard the beep from my new stalker’s probing questions. I didn’t respond with any of my own questions. I didn’t care what or who he was. I was on a mission and beer guy wasn’t on the map.

  KC-Beer – What do you do for a living?

  Cass – Look, it was nice talking to you, but I gotta go. I have to work in the morning and I need to get to bed.

  KC-Beer – Okay, meet me in Club Glitter tomorrow around eight.

  Cass – No. I hate Dubstep.

  KC-Beer – Okay, what kind of music do you like?

  Cass – I like a lot of stuff, just not that. See ya around.

  KC-Beer – Tomorrow. Meet me in …

  I wasn’t meeting him at the club or anywhere else. I wanted him to leave me alone. Reading through some forums, I tried to figure out if I could somehow block him. I wasn’t interested in dating. I just wanted to make it through the levels to see if Becker was there or not. I didn’t have time to be playing online video games. Well, I had time, I guess. I just didn’t want to. I was never into the video game scene. I spent too many alone hours doing it as a kid, not that it was like Jurassic Park or anything else I had mastered. My dad would never have let me online.

  ***

  I was up extra early the following morning, psyched to hear what Marti had to say about Becker. Taking my dad breakfast and a cup of coffee, he groaned at my choice of bagel. I couldn’t help it. I was a natural born chocolate lover and if it came in chocolate, that’s what I was having.

  Listening to Matt speak about the cheating spouse case he was on, I paid more attention to the way he presented himself and his professionalism more than the case itself. Feeling confident, I did just like Matt. I opened my folder and began.

  “Wayne Zimmer is under investigation for fraud. He’s moved a lot, staying one step ahead of the game. I located his current residence on Piedmont. I haven’t had a chance to get any pictures yet. He hasn’t come out of his house, but after observing the lawn being freshly mowed, I figured I’d give him a couple days.” I smiled, proud of my mimicking professionalism. I glanced over to Matt, who was wearing a smirk. He was either making fun of me or he was proud. Hoping it was the latter, I turned to Marti.

  Straightening my posture, I paid close attention, needing every bit of information Mari could give me.

  “Nothing. These girls are not missing. They are there on their own accord. I met with the sister who hired us yesterday and she has since changed her mind. She told me she was invited to the house and her sister seemed to be very happy. She apologized for my trouble. I shook her hand and we parted as friends,” Marti explained.

  “That’s it?” Shit. I did it again.

  “You stepping in Daddy’s shoes already?” Marti asked, irritated.

  “Kevin? What’ve you got?” My dad asked, moving around the table, diverting a conversation he wasn’t going to let happen. Damnit. I got up an hour early for this?

  My mind didn’t register one word Kevin was saying. It was on Becker Cole and the three women he had as his wives. I was captivated by a man handling three wives. Was he stopping there? Would he get more? Why did he want more than one?

  “What would you do in this case, Cass?”

  “Huh?” I questioned, being pulled from my investigating mind. “Shut up,” I added with a frown when Matt laughed at me.

  “I’ve got work to do. We done here?” Matt asked, collecting his belongings. He stopped long enough to look at my dad for permission. My dad nodded, not taking his disappointed expression away from me. I tried to join the rank and follow everyone else out the door with my head down. My father’s arm barricading the door stopped me.

  “What’s going on with you?” he asked.

  Taking a step back, I looked up. “Nothing.”

  “You need to get it together. You’ve been one of the guys for less than a week.”

  “I know. I was thinking about something else. Why does it matter if I know about anyone else’s case?”

  “It doesn’t, but you seem to focus okay when we’re talking about the Becker case.”

  “That’s because you should have given me that case.”

  “There is no case. Get out of here and get me something on Zimmer.”

  I knew the tone and listened. I’d heard the same one a million times over the years. It was the one that said get out of my face before I blow my top. He never really blew his top with me, but I did see him explode on the agents around the office.

  Dropping my head, I went to my corner. Sitting in my chair, I retrieved my phone. I held it to the right of my shoulder, using it for a mirror. Marti filed the folder I wanted to get my hands on. Third drawer down, quarter of the way from the front, I jotted it on my own case file. She wouldn’t be there long. She’d be off working on one of her many cases. Hoping she left soon, I looked around at what I could do. There wasn’t much I could do. Unlike the rest of the crew, I only had one case, and it was sort of a dud until I could catch him out of the house.

  I needed to leave the office in order to avoid another confrontation with my dad. I wanted that file. I wanted to sit across the road from Zimmer and read every tiny inch of it, catch Mr. Zimmer doing something he shouldn’t be doing, and shove it in my dad’s face.

  “Investigating Marti now?” Matt asked, sliding one leg over the corner of my desk.

  I dropped the mirror
ed image on my phone. “No. I was checking my makeup,” I lied, forgetting the fact that I’d forgotten to put any on due to my early rising and meddling mind.

  “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re lying. I’m good at this, you’re not, remember?”

  Feeling my face flush, I knew I was caught in a lie. I hated it. It was a dead giveaway for me. My dad says I got it from my mother. She did the same thing when she tried to lie. I was okay as long as I wasn’t called out. I dropped my eyes and flipped open my folder, trying to hide my scratch pad about Becker Cole more than anything. I didn’t want him to see that. It would just give him something else to give me a hard time about.

  “I’ve known you since you were twelve. I can tell when you’re up to something.”

  “What would I be up to? It’s not like anyone trusts I can do this job, anyway.”

  “You can’t do this job, Cassie. Why don’t you admit it before someone gets hurt?”

  “I’m not planning on shooting anyone,” I assured him.

  Matt blew out a puff of air, moved his leg from my desk, and stood. “I sure as hell hope your dad isn’t dumb enough to give you a gun, but it’s not the someone else I’m worried about getting hurt. It’s you.”

  My mouth dropped a little while my eyes watched him walk away. Was he hitting on me? Nah, surely not. He was at least fifteen years older than me, maybe even more. Matt had known me since I was a kid, and my dad would have his nuts. What did he mean by that? He was worried about me. Maybe it was like the kid-sister kind of worry.

  I watched Marti get up and take her things. Something happened in me that day, right in that moment. My blood started pumping at a rapid pace through my veins. Feeling the rush of adrenaline, I knew this was the high my dad spoke of when investigating a case. This just wasn’t the case I was supposed to be investigating.