Toys - James Patterson [25]
Now I looked nothing like the old Hays Baker; I was just another of the wealthy, weekend-warrior civilians you’d expect to see in the Baronville Toyz store, where eleven executives had recently been murdered. That was where I was headed now. I’d made up my mind; I needed one more look at the crime scene where my life had begun to be shattered.
I needed to know why my life had been blown to pieces.
There had to be clues I’d overlooked. Also, why had Jax Moore insisted on calling me there, even though it was well outside my area of operations? What had happened to make the in-store witnesses forget everything they’d seen?
Hopefully, I’d learn something soon—because there was the Toyz store, less than a hundred yards straight ahead.
The place where everything had gone all wrong for me, and for my family.
Chapter 34
THAT LAST THOUGHT reminded me of the girls—and suddenly I had another idea, probably my most constructive one so far.
Chloe and April both carried phones to school—and maybe, just maybe, I could talk to them now.
I dialed Chloe’s number first, then I couldn’t believe it when I actually heard her voice come on the line. Thank God, it was her!
“This is Chloe Baker,” she said. An odd first line, but it was definitely my baby.
“This is your daddy. Hello, Chloe Baker,” I said.
“Daddy, what happened to you? Mommy said you’re in trouble—bad trouble. Is that true? It couldn’t be, right?”
“Chloe, sweetie, it’s just a misunderstanding. I’ll be home soon.”
There was a silence, which I didn’t understand. Chloe tends to talk and talk.
“Chloe? Chloe? What’s the matter? Something is—I can tell—”
Chloe blurted out, “Daddy, the police are listening! The police are at my school!”
Then she clicked off the phone.
Talk about a heartbreaking call.
But why did I feel things so deeply?
Like a human would?
Chapter 35
I KNEW I’D better hurry—the police could be here soon. It was almost surreal being back at the murder scene, especially since the Agency and city police were now searching for me. I strained to keep my vitals in check so that I wouldn’t set off any biometric-profile monitors in the Toyz store, but my nerves weren’t helped any by having to go past the window display of Jessica and Jacob dolls. They were strutting around like they owned that little world.
The customers inside Toyz were the same mix of Elites and the occasional upper-level humans I’d seen here the other night.
Almost immediately, I recognized a face—the pretty Elite woman I’d first interviewed, the one who said she’d been standing right next to two of the victims but hadn’t actually witnessed the murders.
How could she bear to come back here so soon after that hideous crime, and then wander around clothes and baubles, shopping as if nothing had happened? Was she that callous? Or had something mysterious happened to her? If so, what was it? I needed to find out why nobody had seen eleven murders.
The woman was talking to a salesclerk, so I’d have to wait for a chance to pull her aside. That wasn’t good—I wanted to get out of here now.
Meantime, there were security personnel posted all around the lobby floor. I couldn’t just stand there looking like a police investigator. So I walked to the nearest bank of SimStims and picked out a diversion that was consistent with my general appearance.
“Rock the Cosmos!” the display flashed, throbbing with the loud treble and hammering bass of the latest fad, “sycho” music.
I set the timer for ninety seconds and slipped on the helmet.
And man, did I ever rock! I was strutting around the huge stage, surrounded by a crowd that went on as far as I could see—a hundred thousand fans at least. They were waving their arms and dancing to the wild pulse of the music—and it was all about me. I was the center of attention, the target of all the screaming and adoration! Not so bad, I had to admit. Certainly better