Devil's Plaything - Matt Richtel [121]
Finally, I ask her about the piece of paper that fell from the man’s pocket, the one with my name on it and the other name—Sandy Vello. Did she see it fall?
She shrugs. “Maybe it yours,” she says. “Maybe it fell out with all the rest of this stuff.”
“Meaning what?”
“Your backpack droppings are everywhere. You’ve got a mishmash of things.”
She looks at some of the scattered pieces of paper from my backpack, still on the ground.
She shrugs. “You took a pretty good hit to your head. It can shake your sense of reality.”
She smiles, the same compassionate but sad smile I’d seen her give the beggar when I first saw her at the turnstile. She turns to go.
I blurt out. “Please take my card, in case you think of anything about that guy. And can I at least have your info, in case I need to follow up?” I tug two business cards out of my wallet.
She looks at my card. It reads ‘Nat Idle: By the Word.’ She glances at it and tucks into her coat pocket. She scribbles something on the back of the other card and hands it back.
“Can I offer you cab fare?” I ask.
“I’m good. Take care of yourself.”
She walks through the turnstiles and into the night.
I look at the scrap of paper I’ve been clutching this entire time, the one with my name and the other one, Sandy Vello.
I don’t recognize the handwriting. It’s certainly not mine. I doubt this came from my backpack. Still, am I making more of this than it is? But, if so, isn’t that my stock and trade? As a journalist, I’ve built a business and a life pursuing mysteries—little, medium and occasionally big. Just like Isaac; everything is a curiosity to be examined, touched, tasted, understood. I’m a toddler with a pen.
But there’s something else: real anger. I could’ve died.
I’m wondering about this Sandy Vello. What if she’s a target too? What if she has a kid, spouse, partner, or general desire to live?
I walk back to the top of the majestic stairs and pull out my phone. It’s a first generation iPhone, which in these parts makes me a Luddite. I call up an Internet browser and finger in Sandy Vello’s name. In the customary minute it takes for the results to load, I watch a man on a bike peddle by, undaunted in the rain, a dog in his back saddle wearing a yellow slicker. Watching makes my knee ache and I wonder when I’ll get back on a basketball court, my 37-year-old joints and weather permitting.
Google returns its wisdom, 171,000 related web pages. Big help, Google.
I run the same search but for recent news. I get a hit. Sandy Vello has been in the news lately. Ten days ago, she was hit by a car in Woodside, a suburb in the hills a half an hour south of San Francisco. She was killed.
I’m reading an obituary.
What the hell is going on?
About the Author
MATT RICHTEL is a Pulitzer Prize-winning New York Times technology journalist and novelist. His first book, Hooked, was a critically acclaimed bestseller. His fiction, like his journalism, focuses on the impact of technology on how people live, behave, and love in the 21st century. He won the 2010 Pulitzer Prize for national reporting for his series on distracted driving. He lives in San Francisco with his family. Please visit him at www.mattrichtel.com.
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Praise
“Matt Richtel [is] the absolute master of crafting amazing fiction around cutting edge science…. This is an utterly absorbing read—gripping, exciting, touching and terrifying. ”
DAVID LISS, New York Times bestselling author of Whiskey Rebels
“A story both rich in character and riotously exciting. So get comfortable . . . you’ll be reading this in one sitting.”
JAMES ROLLINS, New York Times bestselling author of Altar of Eden
By Matt Richtel
DEVIL’S PLAYTHING
HOOKED
Copyright
This book