These Deadly Games(48)

The beeping stopped.

I stared at the panel, stock-still, holding my breath. I did it. I guessed the right code! Akira must be out cold, thank God—

Footsteps.

Upstairs.

“Hello?” Akira’s voice croaked as the stairs creaked.

Crap. I could slip out the back door, but then she’d see a shadowy figure bolting across the yard and call the cops. At least, that’s what I’d do.

I could reveal myself, pretend I came over to talk. But that wouldn’t explain why I didn’t text first, or why I wanted to drive off with her mom’s minivan, for that matter. Oh, God, I couldn’t think fast enough. I couldn’t let her catch me.

So, like any sane person would do, I dove behind the kitchen island.

Remaining in a low crouch, I peered around the corner as Akira switched on the foyer lights. “Hello?” Her voice was shaky. I slipped back out of view as she padded into the kitchen, leaning back against the cabinet containing the garbage can. The knob dug into my shoulder blade, but I held still.

Finally, Akira’s footsteps moved to the short hallway off the kitchen leading to a half bath and laundry room.

I let out a breath I was fully aware I was holding.

The garage door creaked as she opened and closed it a few seconds later. Then she shuffled away, pausing at each room downstairs. “Huh,” she muttered somewhere near the front door. A few beeps sounded. Oh, no. She was rearming the alarm system. Well, I’d worry about that later. Right now, I needed a better hiding place; if she checked the kitchen any closer than a mere peek, she’d find me. This wasn’t MortalDusk—I couldn’t slink around as she searched, silent and stealthy. Knowing my luck, I’d knock over one of the barstools. Crouching low, I dashed to the small bathroom Akira had already checked, and hid behind the door.

Didn’t think I’d be playing Manhunt tonight.

My skin crawled at the memory of the last time we’d played. I shook it away and checked my phone. Ten minutes left to steal this car. I silenced it—the last thing I needed was it buzzing with a notification from An0nym0us1 right now.

Akira padded back into the kitchen. “What the utter fuck is going on?” she muttered. A mood, honestly. I watched her through the gap in the door hinge. Her eyes were red and puffy, and strands of damp black hair fell lank around her face. She’d probably cried herself to sleep soon after showering.

My heart ached, and the temptation to reveal myself was real. She’d be confused for a sec, but then she’d make us hot chocolate with marshmallows, and we’d curl up on the couch under her favorite fleece blanket to talk and cry together. We hadn’t even had a chance at the hospital to hug, to sob, to mourn. I desperately wanted to confide in her—to tell her everything. But An0nym0us1 was in my pocket, listening to my every move. Maybe I could step out, finger to my lips, and write a note explaining what was happening. But what if Akira shouted in fright? What if An0nym0us1 was outside, watching through a window? I shuddered at the thought. I couldn’t risk it.

Akira poured herself a glass of water, muttering something unintelligible—I could only make out the words “imagining things.” Then she shuffled back to the stairs, switching off lights as she went. Her footsteps creaked up the stairs, and finally, a door clicked shut.

Okay, keys.

Which literally could be anywhere. Eight minutes left.

I scrambled back into the kitchen and quietly slid open drawer after drawer, rifling through them. This reminded me of that escape room game Matty got me to download on the bus ride to a maple farm for a class field trip. You had to find a key to unlock the door, first searching for other items in the room to solve a series of puzzles. I got stuck on this one pirate shipwreck level and started tapping every millimeter of the screen.

Matty had swatted my hand. “Whoa, chill. What’re you looking for?”

“A crowbar,” I’d huffed, frustrated. “I need to open this barrel.”

“You sure you need a crowbar?”

“I dunno … There was one in the last level.”

He scoffed. “What’re you, some sort of newb?”

“Hey!” I shoved him, and he flailed, pretending to fall into the aisle. I tugged him back before Mrs. Chesser in the front seat noticed our shenanigans.

Well, if not a crowbar, what else could open the barrel? Behind the piles of broken wooden beams and sparkly treasure was a plaque with two crisscrossed swords mounted above the door I’d assumed was part of the background. I tapped the swords, and one appeared in my inventory. “Aha!”

Matty grinned. “There ya go. Always think like a game designer.”

Hearing Matty’s voice in my head made my stomach clench. It seemed unfathomable that I’d never hear his voice again. Surely tomorrow he’d be back at my house, ready to play MortalDusk, tossing around his witty banter like always. Tears welled in my eyes. No. I couldn’t think about that now. I had to focus.

Too bad Matty’s advice wasn’t relevant now—this time, I knew what I was searching for. Car keys. And I knew to look where Akira’s parents might keep car keys.

I glanced down at the silverware drawer I’d just slid open.

Okay. Maybe I did need to slow down and think more logically. Like a game designer.

Mrs. Saito probably kept her main set of car keys in her purse, and a second set with her husband’s somewhere else. Hence my instinct to check these drawers, but really, they could be anywhere. But if Akira’s mom was like mine, she had a second purse she used just for travel, filling it only with what she needed for the trip. She wouldn’t need her car keys in California. So they might still be in her daily purse, which was likely in her bedroom, or bedroom closet. Upstairs.