Roadside Crosses

people get over their addiction to the game.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Oh, yes.” He sat forward. “Now, there’s nothing in his computer about places he’d go or his friends, but I’ve found something that might be helpful.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Him.”
    “Who?”
    “Well, Travis himself.”

Chapter 23
    DANCE BLINKED, WAITING for a punch line.
    But Jon Boling was serious.
    “You found him? Where?”
    “In Aetheria, the fictional land in DimensionQuest. ”
    “He’s online?”
    “Not now, but he has been. Recently.”
    “Can you find out where he is in real life from that?”
    “There’s no way of knowing. We can’t trace him. I called the gaming company—they’re in England—and talked to some executives. DimensionQuest ’s servers are in India and at any given moment there are a million people online.”
    “And since we have his computer, that means he’s using a friend’s,” Dance said.
    “Or he’s at a public terminal or he’s borrowed or stolen a computer and is logging on through a Wi-Fi spot.”
    “But whenever he’s online we know he’s standing still and we have a chance to find him.”
    “In theory, yes,” Boling agreed.
    “Why is he still playing? He must know we’re looking for him.”
    “Like I was saying, he’s addicted.”
    A nod at the computer: “Are you sure it’s Travis?”
    “Has to be. I got into his folders in the game and found a list of avatars he’s created to represent himself. Then I had a few of my students go online and look for those names. He’s been logging on and off today. The character’s name is Stryker—with a y. He’s in the category of Thunderer, which makes him a warrior. A killer, basically. One of my students—a girl who’s played DimensionQuest for a few years—found him about an hour ago. He was roaming around the countryside just killing people. She watched him slaughter a whole family. Men, women and children. And then he corpse camped.”
    “What’s that?”
    “In these games, when you kill another character they lose power, points and whatever they’re carrying with them. But they’re not permanently dead. Avatars come to life again after a few minutes. But they’re in a weakened state until they can start to regain power. Corpse camping is when you kill a victim and just wait nearby for them to come back to life. Then you kill them again, when they have no defenses. It’s very bad form, and most players don’t do it. It’s like killing a wounded soldier on the battlefield. But Travis apparently does it regularly.”
    Dance stared at the homepage of DimensionQuest, an elaborate graphic of foggy glens, towering mountains, fantastical cities, turbulent oceans. And mythical creatures, warriors, heroes, wizards. Villains too, including Qetzal, the spiky demon withthe sewn-shut mouth, wide eyes chillingly staring at her.
    A bit of that nightmare world had coalesced here on earth, smack within her jurisdiction.
    Boling tapped his cell phone, on his belt. “Irv’s monitoring the game. He wrote a bot—an automated computer program—that’ll tell him when Stryker’s online. He’ll call or IM me the instant Travis logs on.”
    Dance glanced into the kitchen and saw her mother staring out the window. Her palms were clenched.
    “Now, what I was thinking,” Boling continued, “tracing is out, but if we can find him online and watch him, maybe we can learn something about him. Where he is, who he knows.”
    “How?”
    “Watching his instant messages. That’s how players communicate in DQ . But there’s nothing we can do until he logs on again.”
    He sat back. They sipped wine in silence.
    Which was suddenly broken as Wes called, “Mom!” from the doorway.
    Dance jumped and found herself easing away from Boling as she turned toward her son.
    “When do we eat?”
    “As soon as Martine and Steve get here.”
    The boy retreated to the TV. And Dance and Boling walked inside, carting wine and the computer. The professor replaced the unit in his bag and then snagged a bowl of pretzels from the island in the kitchen.
    He headed into the living room and offered the bowl to Wes and Stu. “Emergency rations to keep our strength up.”
    “Yea!” the boy cried, grabbing a handful. Then said, “Grand pa, go back to that fumble so Mr. Boling can see it.”
    DANCE HELPED HER mother and daughter finish setting out the food, buffet style, on the island in the kitchen.
    She and Edie talked about the weather, about the