Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Francine Pascal is the creator of several bestselling series, including Fearless and Sweet Valley High, which was also made into a television series. She has written several novels, including My First Love and Other Disasters, My Mother Was Never a Kid, and Love & Betrayal & Hold the Mayo. She is also the author of Sweet Valley Confidential: Ten Years Later. She lives in New York and the South of France.

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Kill Game

Simon Pulse

Gaia Moore, FBI.

Special Agent Gaia Moore.

Well, today's the day I say those words out loud for the first time. And try to sound like I mean it. I'm finally carrying a badge and a gun. (A fake gun, that is. I've had a long talk with myself, and I think I'm going to be okay around fake guns. They're filled with paint pellets. Paint pellets don't cause senseless murders. Paint pellets don't cut short innocent lives.)

I think my dad would be proud. Fake gun and all.

I was thinking about him as I crossed the highway and entered Hogan's Alley. The gun straps under my arm, in a leather cross-draw shoulder holster that attaches to my belt and reaches around my back. You can wear the straps under a jacket and nobody will see them; that's the point. The badge is folded in a leather case in my back pocket. I can feel the equipment's weight as I move around. If Dad saw me right now, he would know -- if he were standing right there, with his sad eyes squinting in the sun, he would look at me, and his first thought would be, Shoulder holster -- right-hand cross draw. Government issue -- probably a Walther automatic.

And would he be proud? Would this be what he wanted?

Would he understand why I had to do this by myself, without his involvement? I would like to know the answer to that, actually.

The simple fact is, this is much more confusing than I thought it would be. And it's already much harder. Yesterday I thought, fine -- just run faster, jump higher, punch harder, kick more accurately, and think more quickly. But there's more to it than that -- a lot more. For instance, I have to deal with people directly -- I can't run away from them while pretending to run toward them, the way I've done with so many people in my life.

With my teammates right now, that may not be so easy. I like Kim -- he seems very sweet, and I can already tell his mind is like a laser, focusing in on everyone else's personalities. And Catherine's great. I wish they hadn't seen me make a fool of myself yesterday. I thought Will was the big show-off -- but it turns out that if anyone's been showing off, it's probably me.

Will. I don't know why we're on the same team, but his superior attitude is a distraction I don't need. I've got to concentrate on solving this crime, not proving anything or competing with anyone.

Except maybe that's the point. Am I here to prove something? To myself, to Dad, to Will, to Agent Bishop, to Agent Malloy? Can I win the game? Can I win without proving anything -- can I prove anything without winning?

I don't know.

But one thing's for sure -- it's absolutely clear in my head as the four of us walk in a line across the road and step between the buildings on the perimeter of this fictional town "Hogan's Alley." I'm not going to make any more mistakes. I'm going to walk into this fake-ass town with my badge and gun, and I'm going to catch a killer.

Death By Disembowelment

The bell rang out, as clear and loud as a fire alarm, echoing in the crisp, morning air.

Game start.

They had walked into a wide, treeless town square. Once they were out of view of the official FBI buildings, the illusion was complete. Hogan's Alley wasn't like some strip of fake buildings at Universal Studios. The trainees could have been in any American small town. Catherine saw a barbershop, a bookstore, a small bank. There were newspaper vending machines on the corners, and a band shell in the center of the small civic park at the end of the town square. Cars were parked up and down the main street.

Gaia, Will, Kim, and Catherine stood there, looking around. There were a few passersby strolling down the sidewalks but not that much pedestrian traffic. At the other end of the square Catherine could see one of the other teams of four -- the competition.

"So what do we do?" Catherine asked.

Will shrugged. "What do special agents do before anything happens?"

"Stand around looking useless?" Gaia said pleasantly. "But then, you already know that, don't you?"

"Well, since you're clearly watchin' every move I make, you tell me," Will answered.

"Is there something we're supposed to see?" Kim asked Will. He was shading his eyes, gazing up and down the street. "Some detail we're supposed to pick up?"

He's asking Will, Catherine noticed. Will's established that he's the observational wizard -- Kim's acknowledging that. Catherine also noticed that Gaia chose that moment to turn away, as if she was wincing. Catherine was confused. Was Kim doing it on purpose? Trying to irritate Gaia?

Or was Kim not thinking about Gaia at all? Was he just focused on winning the game?

"I can't think of anything," Will said. The wind made his T-shirt flap against his shoulder muscles. "I think we just wait."

"Did Bishop give any specifics?" Gaia asked. "Did she say what -- ?"

Catherine's cell phone rang.

"Hello? Um -- Sanders here," Catherine said, answering the phone. The other three watched her expectantly.

"Agent Sanders, this is Sheriff Landy," a rough male voice told her over the phone. It was a bad connection. "The regional FBI headquarters gave me your cell phone number -- I hope that's all right."

"Yes -- go on."

"Agent Sanders, we've had a violent homicide," Sheriff Landy continued. If he was an actor, he was very good; to Catherine's ears, he sounded completely real. "Circumstances of the murder are -- " Hiss! A blast of cell phone static obscured the sheriff's voice for a moment. " -- Take a look."

"I'm sorry, Sheriff; I lost some of that," Catherine said, squinting impatiently and shielding her other ear with her hand. "A homicide -- "

"Just please come to the police station as quickly as you can, Agent Sanders. Frankly, we can't make heads or tails of this -- it's pretty gruesome."

Catherine slapped the phone shut. "Police station," she told the others. They all looked around, and then Kim pointed -- a low building with long white columns along its facade bore an engraved sign that read Police Station. Without missing a beat, they started walking four abreast in that direction.

"Did they give any details?" Gaia asked. Catherine shook her head.

"A single homicide?" Will asked in his Farm Belt accent, which Catherine had to admit she found charming. "And they've moved the body?"

"He didn't say. Damn phone -- I was losing him."

"How did they get the number?" Kim asked as they arrived at the police station entrance. Will held the door for Catherine and Gaia -- Gaia clearly didn't like this, but she acquiesced.

"They gave me the phone. It's a private network for the game," Catherine explained.

"Interesting that they gave it to you," Kim noted.

Catherine nodded. "Something tells me communication problems are part of the game."

"Agent Sanders?" the sheriff's voice echoed at them the moment the four of them had arrived in the cool, air-conditioned police station lobby, before their eyes had even adjusted to the darkness. Catherine had never felt more awake, she realized absently, standing up straighter as the sheriff came toward them out of the shadows. With surprise, Catherine recognized one of the "gunmen" from the previous day. He was using a different voice, and he was dressed differently, but it was the same actor. "Thank you so much for coming."

"Sheriff, these are Special Agents Moore, Lau, and Taylor," Catherine said.

"Don't worry, Sheriff," Will said smoothly, stepping forward and smiling. "My colleagues and I will get to the bottom of...