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“Shit.” I shouted.

Hank laughed, sending me a pitying look, which should have annoyed me. Instead, I smiled and stepped aside. “Show me your skills, buddy.”

Here I was, developing a multimillion-dollar video game, and I couldn’t even win a plush for my woman. I should probablybuy the damn thing and have it shipped to me the next day to save the money and embarrassment.

I hated losing, and this machine was primed for people like me who kept feeding it money, knowing full well the chances of winning were slim.

But that was the beauty of these games. Like WaterFyre Rising, it allowed the player to escape into a world, keeping him there until he figured out how to move onto the next level. It was a natural human condition to win, survive, feel alive. To be in control. The booming games industry homed in on those emotions.

Hank moved the handle to grab Chococat. Then he shook the joystick until the claw trembled and spun while holding Chococat tightly as it moved toward the mouth, releasing into the drop.

Holy shit.He did it.

We sat down at a booth in the back of the arcade. Noises boomed around us, giving us the privacy we needed by making us inconspicuous. It was a great meetup place.

“Y-you want anything to eat?” Hank asked, sitting across from me. “The pizza is good here.”

“No thanks, but you go ahead,” I said, realizing that Hank’s stuttering wasn’t as bad in this environment as compared to the campground. If the camp was so stressful, why did he live there?

Hank ordered two slices of pizza with everything on it.

I paid for it along with a fruit punch for him and an iced tea for me. “It’s a thank you for helping me get Chococat.” I patted the plush, which sat beside me like a pet.

“Okay, thank you.” He bit into his pizza and chewed.

I interlaced my fingers, studying him. When he finished a slice, I asked, “What can you tell me about the fire?”

He placed down the pizza and sipped his fruit punch, looking nervous. “I saw them torch the cabin.”

“Who?” My fingers curled, itching to hurt whoever was responsible.

“Not sure. They came at different times.”

They?“Have you told the authorities?”

Hank’s mouth tensed. “N-no. I d-don’t trust them.” Fear sparked in his eyes as the stuttering returned.

His hands trembled, and I suspected something horrible had happened to him that triggered the stuttering.

“Thank you.” I squeezed his hand. “You can trust me, Hank.”

I wanted to know what happened to him, but he might hesitate with a stranger.

“I don’t think the t-two people were working together. A woman came first when K-Kiera was out, then a man arrived a day later. He was the one w-who torched it. They both wore caps and face masks. It’s hard to see because of the t-trees. My camera isn’t very good.”

Hope sparked. “You have videos? Can you send them to me?”

He nodded. “I’m saving money f-for an upgrade. It’s hard when you work part-time here.”

“Why do you trust me with this information?” I asked.

“Because you care for K-Kiera. She looks like my sister. The long brown hair.” He patted his head. “If someone had cared about mysister, Nikky, she’d still be alive today.”

“What happened to her?”

“Went missing two years ago. Her body hasn’t been f-found. I know she’s dead. The police department wouldn’t tell me or my mom anything. They said they had no leads. It’s a cold case. Officer St. Pierre came to my cabin once . . .” He inhaled a breath, and his body shook. “N-Never mind.”

“Tell me.” I held his eyes. “The best way to fight the monster is to face it. What did he do to you?”