Chapter 30
THIRTY
Because the future of gaming isn’t a boys’ club.
Built by Women. Played by Everyone.
She who codes—conquers.
Zoe read the words written in giant block font on a white marble wall.
The office was like a beehive of activity.
Women in power suits and steely demeanors strutting around and working behind large monitors.
The walls plastered with empowering quotes and news articles.
It was all very efficient and orderly. The only welcoming feature were the plants on the windowsills.
“This looks interesting.” Zoe felt like an outsider in her shabby jeans and Gina’s old leather jacket she’d snagged last Christmas.
Aiden looked bored. “Identity management.”
“What is that?”
“Women often develop a culture of overperformance to disprove stereotypes like they’re too emotional or soft. The internal pressure to perform often leads to hyper self-monitoring.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Do you get bored often?”
“What do you mean?”
She hitched a shoulder. “Being a know-it-all must get boring.”
He stared at her blankly. “And carrying that chip on your shoulder must be exhausting.”
“Chip on my shoulder?” Her eyebrows shot up as she stepped closer. “It’s called being normal. You wouldn’t understand.”
His smile was sarcastic. “It was my job to evaluate you, Storm. And normal is the last word I’d use to describe you.”
“I knew that’s why you volunteered to be on this case,” she said, losing control of the situation. “You see me as a patient to prod and poke and lock up in whatever dungeon you came from.”
“I volunteered to help you. If you really were this happy, cheerful person you pretend to be, you wouldn’t be so cynical whenever you saw a friendly face.”
She opened her mouth to retort but was distracted by a sweet scent of gummy bears laced with an airy ocean breeze. Was it coming from him? And then she looked at her reflection in his glasses. Why was she blushing? And why was she standing so close to him?
“Darren Galanis is in town,” she blurted out when she didn’t mean to, suddenly changing the subject.
Aiden’s hard face faltered. “You saw him?”
Zoe nodded. Why was she telling him anything? “I swung by Fun House one morning. He was in his car watching me. I chased him on foot but he got away. I have a stalker.”
Aiden ran a hand through his hair. “He’s dangerous, Storm. As it turns out, I don’t think he has anything to do with this case. I highly doubt he dug around Michael’s hair.”
A lump hardened in Zoe’s throat. She couldn’t confide in Aiden.
No matter how much he sniffed around, she needed him to mind his own business.
But she wasn’t brave enough to hide her fear completely.
Uneasiness unfurled in her belly. She knew she was being followed, being watched, but now she had a name and face.
And she fully intended to hunt him down and beat the truth out of him if she had to.
“Don’t, Storm,” Aiden said suddenly, as if he’d read her mind. “Don’t go at it alone.”
“Can I help you?” A woman appeared, hiding her smile as she glanced at them.
Zoe jerked away, hating that he was unaffected by their proximity. “FBI. We need to speak with Amy Andrews.”
“Sure.” The woman’s eyes lingered on Aiden a moment longer before she escorted them to one of the rooms with bleached white walls that hurt Zoe’s eyes.
Amy was busy typing away at a computer, her eyes fixated on the screen.
“We’re not just making games here; we’re fixing the industry.
” She was wearing a headset. “Harrington Group is ancient. They have no skin in the game. Trust me—” She stopped when she noticed Zoe and Aiden standing at the door.
“I’ll call you later.” She removed the headset, a confident smile planted on her face.
“How can I help you?” She stood up and then her face fell. “Did you find Jackie?”
“Not yet,” Zoe said. “I didn’t know you were such a big shot.”
“I’m sure you have a work persona as well, Agent Storm. You’re also in a male-dominated industry. Please take a seat.” Amy gestured them to the little sitting area.
The office was covered with Amy’s accomplishments. Framed university degrees, certifications, awards, and pictures taken at glamorous events. Zoe couldn’t imagine working in a room with her face everywhere.
“Do you know who killed Jackie?” Amy asked solemnly.
“We’re doing our best. We wanted to talk to you about Harrington Group,” Zoe said.
Amy pursed her lips, her gaze bouncing between them. “What about them?”
“You’re one of their key competitors,” Aiden stated. “Did Jackie know that when she began freelancing for them?”
Amy threw her head back and laughed. “I never talked shop with Jackie. She wasn’t interested in the business side of things.”
“But given that she was testing video games for your competition, do you not see the conflict here?” Zoe said.
“Harrington Group isn’t competition. They think they are.
It’s just that old hag’s desperate attempt to reinvent herself.
I couldn’t care less about what they’re doing.
” She blinked rapidly and clenched her fists in her lap.
Zoe noted Aiden watching her carefully. “What does this have to do with Jackie?”
“We’re just trying to get a clearer picture around the events,” Zoe said. “Are you sure Jackie never mentioned an Annabelle Stevens? She worked for Harrington Group.”
Amy shrugged. “Like I said, my step-sister and I didn’t discuss every aspect of our lives. While she was stuck on the big fire, marinating in the trauma it caused our family, I only care about the future.”
“Where were you the evening of November 2?” Zoe asked.
Amy stared at them blankly. “Are you serious? You think I have something to do with this?”
“We have to cover all the bases.”
She scowled and flared her nostrils. “I was working. Here. In my office.”
“Can anyone vouch for that?” Aiden asked.
“No. I work overtime many days.” There was a knock on the door and the same woman poked her head in. “Amy, they need you.”
“Yes.” She stood up and smoothed out her pantsuit. “Agent Storm, Dr. Wesley, please keep me in the loop about Jackie. And don’t worry about what’s going on with our company and Harrington Group. It’s just business.”
As she gestured to lead them out, Zoe felt a tickle of frustration. She exchanged a look with Aiden. They couldn’t divulge the prototype theft to Amy and sabotage Harrington Group. Especially not when they only had a theory.
On their way out, Zoe paused, her eyes locking on something. A rifle. It was mounted on a wall in a glass display. “What’s that?”
“Oh. That’s a Winchester Model 94.” Amy beamed. “It belonged to my grandmother. We used to go hunting together. She was my biggest inspiration. I learned to be unapologetic about my ambition. She taught me women shouldn’t just be represented, they should dominate. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
They were about to head back, disappointed and frustrated, when Zoe’s phone beeped with a message from Lisa.
“What is it?” Aiden asked.
Zoe’s eyes thinned and her mind sharpened. “Remember Jackie’s neighbors reported a red Prius outside her place and some shouting?”
“Yeah…”
“Guess who owns a red Prius. Amy.”
The car glided through the empty, monotonous streets of Pineview Falls. Zoe didn’t know if it was an adjustment period going from a city girl to living in a dead town, or if there was something truly sinister or dull about such places that sucked the joy out of everything.
She brought the car to a sudden stop at the red light.
“Sorry,” she said to Aiden.
“Don’t worry about it.” He had been engrossed in his phone since she’d picked him up from the station.
“Did you find anything at Jackie’s?” she asked.
“Not yet.” He scowled, putting his phone away. “But I’ve asked Ethan to bring in her trash. I’ll sift through it.”
“You really think there’s something in her apartment?”
“Since the killings are related to the big fire, I’m certain she must know something. Is that why she was chosen? There are a lot of people working on the project. There has to be a reason why Annabelle and Jackie were the victims.” He scratched his head, thinking out loud.
Zoe held back a smile. Aiden was always measured and deliberate around her.
Every word that came out of his mouth, every movement he made, came off as rehearsed and planned.
Unlike her, who talked and acted out of impulse.
It felt good to know that Aiden could also think out loud and didn’t always speak with certainty.
“Amy has another link to both,” Zoe pointed out. “She wasn’t super close with Jackie. Jackie was working for her competitor. Do you think Amy fits the profile?”
“Originally I had us looking at a male offender, probably between twenty-five and forty years old. He’s methodical, structured.
This level of planning doesn’t come from someone impulsive or reckless.
He’s intelligent, definitely above average.
Socially detached. Not a recluse, but distant.
Financially stable. Likely not close with family, not estranged, but emotionally distant.
Few or shallow relationships. He can interact socially but prefers online engagement.
An architect who wants to shape the experience and wants full control.
But two people potentially fit that profile if we disregard sex. ”
“Amy and Adam,” she said. “The killer hunted Annabelle down after shooting her with darts dripping with adrenaline, leading to a heart attack. I’m assuming the same thing happened with Jackie.”
“The killer is fixated on the original incident, not just as a tragedy, but as an event that is significant to them personally. Maybe they believe the event was incomplete, flawed, or not executed properly… maybe they wanted to be the one to execute it properly this time.”
“Is that why the killer sent me Michael’s hair?” She swallowed hard. “He was hinting at being unhappy with the past?”
“You know who could potentially have access to Michael’s hair? Jackie’s step-sister Amy.”
The car hummed under her as she breezed through the freeway. The evening sky unfolded in layers—burnt orange to deep indigo. The last glimmers of sunlight pooled into the horizon and stars began winking into existence.
And then a flash in the mirror.
A car. Didn’t she see the same car three turns ago?
Maybe she wouldn’t have thought twice if it had passed her once, maybe even twice.
But every time she switched lanes, it did too.
Every time she slowed, it kept its distance—close enough to shadow, far enough to not raise alarm.
But she wasn’t a casual spectator, was she? A bad feeling took hold of her.
She slowed down suddenly so that the car could get close enough for her to read the license plate. It was the same one from the other day. The one registered to Darren Galanis.
Her pulse spiked.
“What is it, Storm?” Aiden asked. “Why are you driving erratically?”
“We’re being tailed.”
“ What ?” He looked over his shoulder. He said something but she didn’t hear. She was laser-focused. This was her chance. She took the next exit and as expected the car was right behind. Her heart jackhammered.
She flicked her blinker right. A test move.
Nothing ahead, just an empty side street.
The tailing car hesitated, then mirrored her turn.
Without warning, she jerked her wheel to the left, hard, cutting across two lanes.
The tires shrieked against the pavement as she veered into an empty parking lot.
He had followed her.
“Jesus Christ, Storm. We should call for backup!”
Zoe ignored him. Instead of taking the exit, she cut the wheel again, using the curve of the lot to swing around in a wide, brutal circle. Darren had already committed to following her original trajectory—it was too late to correct.
By the time he realized what she’d done, she was already behind him.
A cold, electric rush snapped through her nerves. She slammed her foot on the gas.
The car surged forward, the gap between them vanishing in an instant. A crunching, gut-punch sound of metal on metal split the air as her bumper connected with his rear. The car in front lurched forward and skidded sideways, crashing into a fence.
Zoe didn’t bother to kill the engine as she jumped out of the car. Her hand hovered over the Glock in her waistband as she marched toward the stalled car. She threw open the door and grabbed the man inside by his collar, dragging him out.
“Hey!” he growled as Zoe dropped him on the ground and pointed a gun at him.
Darren—a face she had forgotten, wearing his typical Hawaiian shirt.
“Why are you following me?” she hissed at him.
He got up, unsteady on his feet. He was mildly disoriented from the crash, but uninjured. He grabbed his head and swayed. “I will sue you!”
She smiled sweetly and then rammed her leg into his shin. He let out a shriek and doubled over, clutching his leg. “Speak up or I’ll put a bullet through your empty head.”
“Storm, what the hell are you doing?” Aiden whispered frantically in her ear but she paid no attention.
Darren looked up at them, frowning and panting. “I have rights, you know.” She sighed impatiently and clicked off the safety of her gun. Darren panicked and raised his hands in the air. “All right, all right. He paid me money to watch you.”
“Who?”
“Viktor.”
Her heart leaped in her throat but her face remained expressionless. Moments ticked by and the sky grew darker and larger. She lowered her gun and leaned into his ear. “Tell Viktor Axenov to come find me or the next time I see you following me, I’ll mail him pieces of you. Got it?”