Mind Games (Lock & Mori #2)

Because if I thought honestly about all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, I’d have to admit that Mallory was right to say that my father wasn’t to blame for everything—at least he was right about the sword. My father had been in a drunken sleep when I took the sword from his room and disposed of it. There was no way he could have seen me in the park. Someone could have told him, I supposed, but there was no way he would sit on information like that and use it sparingly to torture me. No, if my father knew what I’d done, he’d have spilled it immediately to free himself and have me locked up.

That meant Sherlock was right as well, and his concerns were justified. My father was still after me. I believed that completely. He wanted to free himself and get his sons back, and I was in his way. But the drawing and letter—my father knew nothing about those. Lock’s deductions about who sent them might not turn out to be accurate, but he was right that my father wasn’t the only one targeting me. Those letters could have come from anyone. And that meant sitting in a room alone with my swirling thoughts was the most useless thing I could do.

But I was left to wait for Mallory and Alice. We lived all of ten minutes from the station by cab. Thankfully, before I could come up with a list of reasons for why she might be late, Alice burst into the room, looking completely wild—jacket falling off one shoulder like she could barely be troubled to put it fully on, hair a scattered mess, cheeks rosy, and eyes full of fire and brimstone. I probably should’ve checked my smile, but something about her ferocity just then made me like her more than I ever had before. Maybe I understood a little why my mother had kept her close for so many years. Alice grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s go.”

I stood to follow her out, but Mallory and his goons were blocking the doorway.

“We need to question her,” the DI said, in a tone that made me think this wasn’t the first or even second time he’d said it.

“As I already explained, you do not have my permission.”

“We can hold her until you give it.”

Alice let go of my hand and turned to fully face down the three men, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Do not let my accent fool you into thinking that I don’t know the law. Now I will take this child with me, and you will move out of my way.”

“Let’s all just have a seat.” Mallory’s voice was practically dripping with his most pacifying tone. “You wouldn’t want the press to find out that you’re failing to cooperate fully with the police.”

Alice crossed her arms. “Then charge her. Charge and process her right now, and I will call the press myself. I’ll let them know how you plan to persecute a child in a completely transparent and feeble attempt to take the blame off your police force for failing to notice one of your own was a serial killer.” When Mallory didn’t respond, Alice continued. “It won’t be that hard to get them to listen, there are a half dozen loitering about in front of our house right now. I’d only have to clear my throat to gather them, and my message would be broadcast live.”

Mallory narrowed his eyes. “We received a tip that someone watched Mori wipe down the sword and throw it in the Regent’s Park lake. I am fully justified in conducting a police interview, so take a seat.”

Alice leaned forward a little and lowered her voice. “Maybe I’ll add in how you personally knew that James Moriarty was hitting his young sons and did nothing to stop him. I’m sure Seanie’s cute little face will play well on the evening news, don’t you think?”

Mallory and Alice stared each other down for a while, and just when I thought we were never getting out of there, Mallory stepped aside, pushing his officers out of the way as well. Alice grabbed my hand again and pulled me just to the doorway. She looked up at Mallory. “These kids have had to deal with enough of your bullshit. Don’t come after them for this trifling nonsense again.”

And then she stormed down the hall, dragging me behind her. She asked me only two questions while we waited at the curb for our cab to arrive.

“Did you do it?”

I nodded.

“Why?”

“I thought I was protecting the woman with blue hair in my photo. I thought maybe without his sword, he’d at least refrain from killing her for a day.”

Her silence felt like an intake of breath, like it was readying for a longer reply. But instead of releasing words, she wove her fingers through mine and held on tightly.





Chapter 9


Alice was quiet most of the way home, and I didn’t make a noise either. I thought maybe she was scared, that she’d used up all her bravado to face down Mallory. And I was to blame for being sloppy when I’d tossed the sword with so many people in the park. But around the halfway point, Alice reached for my hand again. When we rounded the next corner, she knocked on the Plexiglas barrier and said, “Let us off here, please.”

She dragged me from the cab and took my arm as we walked down the street, blending in with all the other pedestrians. “I want spinach salad for dinner, the kind with bits of egg and tomato on it that goes all wilty under a hot bacon dressing.”

“You want spinach salad,” I said.

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