Hard Eight (Stephanie Plum 8)

“A war gamer studies military strategy. When it first started it was a bunch of guys in a room, pushing toy soldiers around on a map on the table. Like the board game Risk, or Axis and Allies. Imaginary battles are constructed and fought. A lot of war gamers play by computer now. It's Dungeons and Dragons for adults. I'm told Abruzzi takes it seriously.”

“He's crazy.”

“That's the general consensus. Anything else?” Ranger asked.

“Nope. That's about it.”

Ranger angled into his car and drove away.

So much for the part of my day where I actually tried to earn some money. I still had Laura Minello, grand theft auto, but I was feeling discouraged and I didn't have any handcuffs. Probably I needed to get back to the kid search, anyway. If I went back to the house now chances were good that Abruzzi wouldn't be there. He probably left in a huff after threatening me and went home to shove some toy soldiers around.

I drove back to Key Street and parked in front of Carol Nadich's half of the house. I rang her bell and scraped some pizza cheese off my breast while I waited.

“Hey,” Carol said, opening the door. “Now what?”

“Did Annie play with any kids in the neighborhood? Did she seem to have a best friend?”

“Most of the kids on this street are older, and Annie stayed inside a lot. Is that pizza in your hair?”

I put my hand to my head and felt around. “Any pepperoni?”

“No. Just cheese and tomato sauce.”

“Well,” I said, “as long as there aren't any pepperonis.”

“Hold on,” Carol said. “I remember Evelyn telling me that Annie had a new friend at school. Evelyn was worried about it because the little girl thought she was a horse.”

Mental head slap. My niece, Mary Alice.

“Sorry, I don't know the horse kid's name,” Carol said.

I left Carol and drove two blocks to my parents' house. It was midafternoon. School would be out, and Mary Alice and Angie would be in the kitchen, eating cookies, getting grilled by my mother. One of my early lessons was that everything has a price. If you want an after-school cookie, you have to tell my mother about your day.

When we were kids, Valerie always had lots to report. She made glee club. She won the spelling contest. She was chosen for the Christmas pageant. Susan Marrone told her Jimmy Wizneski thought she was pretty.

I had lots to report, too. I didn't make glee club. I didn't win the spelling contest. I wasn't chosen for the Christmas pageant. And I accidentally knocked Billy Bartolucci down the stairs, and he ripped the knee out of his pants.

Grandma met me at the door. “Just in time to have a cookie and tell us about your day,” she said. “I bet it was a pip. You've got food all over you. Were you after a killer?”

“I was after a guy wanted for domestic violence.”

“I hope you kicked him where it hurt.”

“I didn't actually get to kick him, but I ruined his pizza.” I sat down at the table with Angie and Mary Alice. “How's it going?” I asked.

“I made the glee club,” Angie said.

I stifled the urge to scream and took a cookie. “How about you?” I asked Mary Alice.

Mary Alice took a drink of milk and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I'm not a reindeer anymore on account of I lost my antlers.”

“They fell off on the way home from school, and a dog went to the bathroom on them,” Angie said.

“I didn't want to be a reindeer anyway,” Mary Alice said. “Reindeers don't got nice tails like horses.”

“Do you know Annie Soder?”

“Sure,” Mary Alice said, “she's in my class. She's my best friend, except she's never in school lately.”