Read Online Return to Paradise by Pittacus Lore - Free Book Online Page A

Nana’s reprimanding Dad about something. There are several cans of beer on the table.
    I walk in on him midsentence.
    “. . . bastards have no right to kick me out of my own damned office.”
    “You may be an adult,” Nana says, “but you won’t use language like that under my roof.”
    They notice me at the same time, and Nana moves to usher me out of the dining room while my dad swigsback a beer.
    “What’s going on?” I ask.
    “Apparently the FBI has completely taken over your father’s station,” Nana says, pushing me into the kitchen and pointing at a plate of cookies. I shake my head.
    “What?”
    “He’s less than pleased. Apparently a man named Perty or Purdy or some such kicked him out of his own office.”
    Purdy .
    “How can they even do that?” I ask.
    Nana just shrugs. “I wouldn’t ask him right now if I were you. Let’s give him some space.”
    I nod. I’ve seen my dad drink beer all my life, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him day drinking like this. Or even actually drunk. So I head upstairs to put my stuff away and check in on what I’ve missed online during the drive home from Helena while trying to figure out why the FBI might have taken over the police station. The logical part of me says that it’s just because John’s escaped and they’re concerned he’s going to come back here, but there’s also a nagging thought in the back of my mind: Does this have anything to do with the fact that I was digging around at the Goodes’ today? Is this another FBI warning—one more subtle than a car trying to run me off the road but definitely more personal?
    I shake my head. This has got to be about the search for John and Six. That’s what I have to believe.
    I’m bummed Sarah’s not online to chat with. I want to tell her about these new developments, but now that her cell is gone and her parents are wardens of the landline, the internet’s my only way of communicating with her. When I see she’s not there, I email her, telling her I’ve got some news she’ll want to hear but don’t actually mention anything specific.
    Later that night—when my dad has passed out watching reruns in the recliner downstairs—I get a text from a weird number I don’t recognize:
    Hi. Have you heard of any sightings of John?
    I guess Sarah got a new phone after all. Hopefully a burner. I text her back:
    No I think that’s good tho.
    A few seconds pass and I get a response:
    Yeah, I guess. I just wish we could help more
    I sigh and text back.
    We’re doing all we can. Can you call me?? I have stuff2 tell u
    And then nothing.
    I lie on the foldout couch with my phone on my chest, waiting to feel it vibrate as I stare at the ceiling. I try to work things out in my head. The FBI has basically taken over Paradise. They’re working for the Mogs, or at least aren’t on the Loric’s side of things. And earlier today, some crazy person tried to kill me and Sarah. Or just scare us badly enough that we’d stop poking around.
    But I can’t stop digging—can’t just go back to the way things were before everything went nuts at the school. Which means that things could get even more dangerous for me, and for Sarah.
    I start to wonder what my family would do if I just disappeared one day. If the FBI or Mogs took me. What would the editors of the blog think?
    Would all the research and fact-finding I’ve tried to do have been for nothing?
    After a while I pull my computer to the bed and start typing up everything I can remember about the Mogs from the attack on the school. It’s part eyewitness account, part profile on the evil aliens. I don’t want to forget any details, and it may come in handy one day if we ever have to try to explain to people what really happened that night—or how to fight the Mogs. Or if Iget in over my head and suddenly disappear.
    I leave the document saved as a private draft on the blog, unsure of what to do with it. Posting it will just send the FBI after me—or the