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I call Sam while I’m on the drive back to Sherwood from Ashbury so he knows I’m on the way.

“How was the party? Did you tell the kids all about the glamorous life of an FBI agent?”

“I… skimped on some of the more grisly details,” I admit. “But that didn’t stop Lucas. He wanted everything. He was a little disappointed when I told him it’s a lot more paperwork than in the movies though. Good kid.”

“Are you hungry?” he asks. “I’ll order some food from the Thai place.”

“That sounds amazing,” I tell him. “I didn’t even stop for lunch today.”

“Don’t tell Xavier that, you’ll end up with another emergency pack of snacks and water stuffed in your back seat,” he says.

“That was actually really useful,” I tell him. “The chocolate coating on the protein bars might not survive the summer heat as well as they did in the winter, but I got good use out of those during a few investigations last winter. Especially when my tire went flat during that storm and I had to wait for roadside assistance.”

Sam laughs. “I think you would prefer your noodles.”

“I would always prefer my noodles.”

“I’ll see you when you get home.”

The drive from Ashbury isn’t very long, but it gives me enough time to churn the new developments through my mind, trying to piece the new details together with what we already know about Terrence Brooks’s death.

I’m still bouncing thoughts around when I get home and pull in behind Sam’s car in the driveway. The long summer evenings mean the sun hasn’t set yet, but the front light is already on. It’s a comforting, welcoming sight that makes me relax into the feeling of being home.

I grab my bag and the papers I got from Mary Billings and head inside.

“Hey, babe,” I call out when I open the door. “I’m home.”

Sam places something down with a clatter, then emerges out of the kitchen with a dishtowel over his shoulder and comes over to me for a kiss.

“Glad you’re back,” he says.

“What are you doing in there?” I ask.

“Cleaning out the refrigerator. There were some things in there I think we’ve forgotten about for a few weeks.”

I shudder. “That’s not a pleasant thought.”

“Not particularly,” he says.

I bring everything into my office and put them down, then join Sam in the kitchen. He’s at the sink washing pans I’m sure once held leftovers that never saw the light of day again. I try not to mourn the loss of whatever it was and drop down into one of the chairs at the table.

“How did it go?” he asks.

I tell him about the donation and the threats against the hospital.

“Remember when Terrence’s friends told me that he suddenly started selling off just about everything he owned not too long before he died?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Sam says.

“I think that’s what funded the donation. That’s why he did it. For some reason, the Game Master required him to make that donation, and he had to sell everything he possibly could to get enough money together to do it,” I say.

“But why would this guy want Brooks to donate to the children’s hospital after threatening them?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know. The name that he chose for himself clearly shows that he thinks of this as a game. But it’s not making any sense. I don’t understand why someone would target a youth church leader whom everyone seemed to love and force him to make a donation to a hospital before killing himself. Though I’m still torn about whether his death was really the intended end or if it just turned out that way because no one found him,” I say. “That symbol showing up is important. He didn’t just do these things to the person he chose, he’s forcing people to recognize that it was done because of him. He wants people to know the pieces of the game, but not really know what’s going on.”

“He’s not telling anybody the rules,” Sam says.

“Something like that.” I let out a sigh. “I’m going to put on something more comfortable.”

“You’re putting on pajamas already?” he asks.

There’s something suspicious in his voice, and I’m not sure what to think about it.

“I was just going to throw on some leggings and a tank top,” I tell him. “I don’t want to be in my work clothes anymore. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he says. “I just thought it was a little early for you to already be packing it in.”

“No,” I tell him. “The children didn’t exhaust me that much.”

“Good to hear.”

I go up to the bedroom and change into a more comfortable, cooler outfit and put my hair into a ponytail to get it off my neck. Feeling a bit more refreshed, I head back down the stairs. I’ve just gotten into the living room where Sam has taken up residence on his favorite chair when I hear a knock on the front door. I look at Sam quizzically.

“Are you expecting someone?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Must be the food.”

“The food?” I ask, heading toward the door. “Since when does the Thai place deliver?”

I peer through the peephole and am confused when I see Eric standing on the porch with two large, brown paper bags in his hands. Throwing the dead bolt out of place, I open the door and look out at him.

“Hey,” I say. “What are you doing?”

He lifts the bags. “Dinner delivery. Tell Xavier they threw in some extra peanut sauce for him.”

“Xavier isn’t here,” I say, starting to feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t know something.

“He isn’t?” Eric asks, trying to sound genuinely befuddled but coming across like a bad actor. “That’s strange. Well, I guess we’re just going to have to bring it over to him.”

“We are?” I ask. I look back at Sam. “Are Xavier and Dean in town? I thought they were still in Harlan.”

Sam shrugs. “I guess we’ll just have to go find out. Put your shoes on. We’ll take a walk over there.”

I go put my shoes on, curious about what these two have up their sleeves. Eric doesn’t just show up at the house, especially without Bellamy and Bebe. It’s not that he’s not welcome to come whenever he wants; it’s that the drive and their careers keep them from just popping by spontaneously. There are always calls and plans involved when they are coming to visit, and we don’t have anything set for at least a few weeks.

“I know you two have something going on,” I say as I rejoin them in the living room.

“What do you mean?” Sam asks, herding me toward the door.

“I can’t just pick up dinner for you?” Eric asks innocently.

“You can’t drive a couple of hours and happen to get to the restaurant on time and get dinner for someone who doesn’t live with me?” I ask. “Whyever would I think that?”

We walk out into the mercifully cooling evening and start our walk over to Dean and Xavier’s house—the house that we lived in until only a very short time ago. It’s just a couple of blocks, and the walk is so familiar my feet could do it without me even thinking about it. This is the same walk I used to do when I visited Sam when I was younger and with my grandparents. I walked, jogged, and rode my bike along these roads more times than I could possibly count. Every time I do it, I’m grateful the houses are still with us and I still have the opportunity to walk between them to see people I love.

We get to the house, and I notice an extra car in the driveway. It’s unmistakably Cupcake’s, with its pink custom paint and vanity tags proclaiming her name. There’s nothing subtle about her arrival anywhere, one of the things I’ve come to adore about her. The small, bubbly confection of a woman knows full well that she’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but she’s not going to back down or try to minimize herself to make them more comfortable. She’s herself unapologetically and without reservation.

“Oh, look, Cupcake is here,” Eric says, his voice still stilted like he’s trying far too hard to sound surprised by the circumstances. “I guess that’s why there’s so much food.”

I climb up onto the front porch and knock.

“Come in,” Dean calls from inside.

I use my key to open the door and step into an explosion of primary colors and helium balloons.

“Surprise!” several voices shout out at me as people burst out from various makeshift hiding places throughout the living room.

I turn around to look at Sam and Eric, who are coming in behind me.

“What’s all this?” I ask.

Suddenly a puff of confetti flutters around my head.

“Happy birthday!”

I turn around and see Xavier wearing a red cone hat strapped around his chin with a strand of elastic and carrying a party horn. He blows the horn at me.

“Um, my birthday isn’t for a few more weeks,” I point out.

“That’s what makes it a surprise,” he says, tossing another handful of confetti at me.

“We know you don’t like to make a big deal out of your birthday and figured you would find some way to be busy that day so we couldn’t celebrate you,” Bellamy says as she and Bebe step out from behind the wall between the living room and dining room. “So we thought we would give you a surprise early.”

“Well, I’m definitely surprised,” I say. I look at Vance Armand, a friend of Dean’s, who emerged from behind the curtains when I came into the house. “Where did you even park?”

“Down the street,” he says. “I got some looks from the neighbors as I walked here with the balloons.”

“I’m sure you did,” I say.

I look around at the copious twisted crepe paper and floating balloons. It looks like a party from when I was a child, and I can’t help but laugh and shake my head.

“This looks great.” I realize it’s the same thing I said about the party at the hospital, and I look at Sam. “You let me talk about going to the birthday party at the children’s hospital when you knew this was going on, and you didn’t say anything?”

“I know. For once, I managed to keep a secret,” he says. “I couldn’t believe it when you said they wanted you to stay for a birthday party for the kids. We were already setting everything up.”

“Thank you for this,” I tell him. “You’re right, I don’t usually want to celebrate my birthday, but this is perfect.”

“I’m glad you said that, because I would have felt really dumb wearing this thing if you didn’t like it,” Dean’s son, Owen, says, coming out of the kitchen wearing a blue cone hat and carrying a vegetable tray.

He sets it down as I cross the room to hug him.

“Owen,” I say. “It’s so good to see you. How is your sister?”

“She’s good,” he says. “Getting better every day, I think.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Let’s eat,” Dean says. “Xavier wouldn’t let us eat anything until you got here.”

“There’s all kinds of stuff in the kitchen,” Bellamy says.

“And we have this,” Eric announces, holding up the bags of Thai food. “I really did go pick up the food order. And, Xavier… extra peanut sauce.”

“Excellent,” he says calmly. I start for the kitchen, but he stops me. “Wait, Emma. You’re not ready yet.”

“I’m not?”

He picks up a yellow party hat and plops it down on my head.

“Proceed.”

We go into the kitchen, and everyone fills plates with food, which we bring into the dining room and living room to eat. I can’t believe they pulled this off. I don’t know how they managed to keep the secret from me. It’s a good thing nothing more serious happened while I was in Ashbury keeping me there.

We’re finishing up when Cupcake lifts her hands up in the air to get everyone’s attention.

“Time for games!” she says.

“Games?” I ask.

“Of course,” she says. “You can’t have a classic birthday party without some classic birthday party games. I hope you are ready to pin the tail on the donkey!”

I do not by any means feel ready to pin the tail on the donkey. But she is so excited I can’t turn her down.

It turns out they have planned an entire party that would have been the highlight of the year for any six-year-old—complete with games, goodie bags, and cake and ice cream. We discover a competitive streak in Xavier as he aggressively tries to get the tail in the precise right position and it looks like the anxiety is going to get the most of him as we play musical chairs. Bebe is having the time of her life.

“I made it for you,” Cupcake announces as I’m opening gifts. “I hope you like it.”

I reach into the gift bag sitting on my lap and pull out a large, plush crocheted cinnamon roll with big eyes and a smile.

I laugh. “It’s amazing. Thank you, Cupcake.”

“It’s scented,” she tells me.

I bury my nose in the plush and breathe in the smell of cinnamon.

“She’s been so excited to give that to you she almost ruined the surprise,” Xavier says.

Cupcake giggles and rests her head on his shoulder. He leans his head over to rest on hers for a moment, and I feel my heart squeeze.

The party wears on until well after Bebe has fallen asleep on the couch. Eventually, Eric scoops her into his arms to carry her back to my house. Sam already invited them to stay with us for the night and got the guest room ready without me knowing, so Bellamy takes the little girl from her father’s arms and carries her the rest of the way to the bed when we get to the house.

“I’m going to grab a shower and put on some pajamas,” I tell Eric. “You going to be up for a little while?”

“Yeah, there’s actually something I wanted to show you if you’re up for it,” he says. “I know we just had your birthday party, but if you’re willing to think about work again, it might interest you.”

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”

When I’ve showered and am in my favorite summertime pajamas, I go to the kitchen to make some tea and bring it with me into the living room. Eric is watching TV when I get there, but he grabs the remote and mutes it when he sees me. He picks up his tablet from where it was sitting on the coffee table, and I sit down beside him.

“Have you ever heard of Tracy Ellis?” he asks.

“No,” I say. “Who is that?”

“She calls herself a faith-based inspirational speaker and writer. Essentially a multimedia televangelist. She’s pretty controversial. A lot of people don’t like her style or the kinds of messages that she preaches. But there are others who think that she’s the greatest spiritual voice of our time.”

“That’s always a good division,” I say.

“Yeah, no problems could come out of that,” he says, swiping through screens on the tablet until he settles on one. “She did a talk recently that I thought you would be interested in hearing. It’s pretty long, so I’m not going to play the entire thing, but here’s a particularly interesting section.”

He presses Play, and the image of a woman with dark hair tightly curled to her shoulders and thick glasses standing on a stage appears on the screen. It’s obvious she is already well into her speech; she looks riled up as she paces back and forth across the stage.

“The death of Terrence Brooks is a sign,” she intones. “Mark my words, it’s a sign. Society is degrading rapidly, and it’s trying to drag all of us down with it. There are forces in power now that will bring an end to this world if we don’t stand up and fight. Terrence, a man of the Word, a committed walker of faith, was brought down by evil. He was destroyed by the very forces we must battle against in order to save ourselves and all the souls of this world!”

I’m stunned by the intensity in the woman’s voice as she continues to rant about Terrence Brooks’s death, drawing parallels that don’t exist and crafting ways to make the death seem even more heinous than it already is.

“What the hell is this?” I ask. “She’s trying to say that he was murdered in some sort of religious hate crime.”

“She’s not trying to say it,” Eric points out. “She is saying it. She wants people to believe that the religious community is under siege and is turning Terrence Brooks into a poster child for it.”

“This investigation has already been compromised enough with the media latching on to it the way it has and publicizing the messages they got from the Game Master.” My lips involuntarily curl up at the feeling of the words coming through them. “I hate even saying that. It feels like I’m playing right into what he wants.”

“You are,” Eric says. “But you don’t have much of a choice. There’s nothing else to call him. Besides, it’s important to remember how messed up this person actually is. He’s playing a game that might have started with Terrence Brooks, but it isn’t over.”

The message is ominous. Terrence was the first to fall victim to the one who calls himself the Game Master, but he made himself clear. There are other players being selected. I don’t know what he has planned for them, and I don’t want to give him the chance to show me.