The Unforgettable Logan Foster and the Shadow of Doubt


 
 
 
 
 
 
 Dedication
 To Sara, who never had even a shadow of doubt.
 
 
 Contents
 Cover
 Title Page
 Dedication
 Prologue
 5:50 P.M., Sunday, October 31
 6:41 P.M., Sunday, October 31
 2:18 P.M., Thursday, November 4
 5:37 P.M., Thursday, November 4
 5:47 P.M., Thursday, November 4
 5:55 P.M., Thursday, November 4
 8:03 P.M., Thursday, November 4
 9:12 A.M., Friday, November 5
 9:15 A.M., Friday, November 5
 5:21 P.M., Sunday, November 7
 6:38 P.M., Sunday, November 7
 4:45 P.M., Thursday, November 11
 6:13 P.M., Thursday, November 11
 12:16 P.M., Friday, November 19
 3:39 P.M., Friday, November 19
 3:38 P.M., Thursday, November 25
 6:21 P.M., Thursday, November 25 
 11:27 A.M., Friday, November 26
 9:13 P.M., Friday, November 26
 11:22 P.M., Friday, November 26
 10:02 A.M., Saturday, November 27
 3:11 P.M., Saturday, November 27
 3:27 P.M., Saturday, November 27
 3:33 P.M., Saturday, November 27
 11:09 A.M., Sunday, November 28
 3:03 P.M., Sunday, November 28
 3:29 P.M., Sunday, November 28
 4:13 P.M., Sunday, November 28
 4:27 P.M., Sunday, November 28
 6:12 P.M., Friday, December 3
 8:41 A.M., Saturday, December 4
 6:44 P.M., Saturday, December 4
 7:01 P.M., Saturday, December 4
 8:08 P.M., Saturday, December 4
 8:33 A.M., Sunday, December 5
 10:33 A.M., Sunday, December 5
 11:39 A.M., Sunday, December 5
 12:02 P.M., Sunday, December 5
 6:14 P.M., Sunday, December 5
 7:57 A.M., Monday, December 6
 8:27 A.M., Monday, December 6
 8:33 A.M., Monday, December 6
 8:41 A.M., Monday, December 6
 8:47 A.M., Monday, December 6
 ??? A.M., Monday, December 6
 8:58 A.M., Monday, December 6
 11:22 A.M., Monday, December 6
 5:35 P.M., Saturday, December 11
 Acknowledgments
 About the Author
 Books by Shawn Peters
 Copyright
 About the Publisher
 
 
 
 Prologue
 Hello. My name is Logan Foster. I am a twelve-year-old orphan living on the Westside of Los Angeles. Even though I am extremely small for my age and should be in seventh grade, I’m almost halfway through my freshman year in high school. That’s because I have an eidetic memory. I’ve retained every word, sound, and image that I’ve seen or heard since I was three (which is when I was abandoned in Los Angeles International Airport and became an orphan).
 Also, I am your big brother. That is a fact.
 If you already know these facts because you read the last letter I sent you after I pretty much saved the world about three weeks ago, you should feel free to skip the next two hundred words.
 If you do not know any of this, it means you did not read what I wrote previously, possibly for one of the following reasons:
 
 I sent a printed version of my first letter, but it got lost in the mail. In 2014 alone, more than 85 million pieces of mail were deemed undeliverable.
 I sent an email to you, but it ended up in your spam folder. According to Statistica.com, there are over 107 billion spam emails sent every day.
 My first letter got to you either 
 5:50 P.M.
 Sunday, October 31
 “We aren’t going to make it in time. That is a fact!”
 That was me, sitting in the middle rear seat of Gil and Margie’s minivan as we raced westward down the Marina Freeway, weaving through traffic like an Olympic slalom skier.
 “I’m aware of the situation, Logan.” Margie exhaled, her knuckles glimmering silver as she gripped the wheel, passing cars on both sides. “We need a bit less critique and more ideas of what we can do about it! There’s no telling how bad the damage will be. Gil, what if you go ahead?”
 From the passenger seat, Gil swallowed hard, which is odd because he doesn’t have actual saliva. As you probably remember, Gil was a MASC scientist when an experiment went wrong and transformed him into a mass of dark-matter-infused atoms held together by his leftover human consciousness.
 “Alone? I can’t! I mean . . . you know . . . if it’s just me it won’t . . .”
 Margie shook her head, and I’m pretty sure I heard the steering wheel bending in her hands.
 Ahead, the freeway ended, gently narrowing and descending to surface streets on the eastern edge of Marina del Rey. According to Google Maps on my new iPhone, we were still twelve minutes from our