Page 31 of The Perfect Illusion
“Yes, and I’m late,” she told him, picking up the pace to a near-jog.
“Mind if I talk to you about something while we walk?” he asked.
“I’m really in a rush, Finn,” she told him.
“Please,” he said, “it’s not about Chaz.”
Chaz was Charlie “Chaz” Newman, a pledge in Finn’s fraternity who had gone missing for several days a couple of months ago during a hazing-esque scavenger hunt. Finn had enlisted Hannah’s help to find the guy. But during their search, Hannah was appalled to learn that Finn seemed as focused on protecting his fraternity’s reputation as on finding Chaz, if not more so.
Hannah ultimately located Chaz, who had fallen down a wooded hill during an epileptic seizure and got disoriented and lost. But even after his recovery, the bad taste remained in Hannah's mouth. She no longer saw Finn as the cute boy she was having an extended flirtation with. He was also the guy whose priorities shifted uncomfortably when the heat was on. She'd gone from feeling a real connection with Finn to being unsure if she could trust him at all. That was a deal breaker for her, and things had never been the same since.
They were still friendly, but she put the brakes on the flirting, which he didn't seem to be handling all that well. In recent weeks, she'd noticed him showing up in places where he had no business. It was off-putting, to say the least.
“What is it about, then?” she asked, not slowing her pace, “and please be quick.”
“I know you’ve been hanging around with that Dallas dude,” he said. “But I just had to tell you—I don’t think he’s a good guy.”
Hannah felt a surge of self-righteous anger rise in her chest but forced herself to take a deep breath before responding.
“First of all,” she said, noting that her tone was even but cold, just as she intended, “do you really think you’re in a position to be passing judgment on the moral failings of other people—?”
"I've already apologized for that—" he interrupted.
But she was having none of it.
"More importantly," she continued, cutting him off as he had done to her, "it's none of your business, Finn. I didn't ask for your input on other guys, and I don't want it."
“Just hear me out for two minutes,” he pleaded as he tried to keep up with her.
“No,” she said, annoyed at the anger that was leaking into her voice but needing to make herself clear. “Listen, I know you’ve been spying on me, following me around campus. And it’s really starting to creep me out. I thought if I just let you work out your feelings on your own timetable, things would settle down. But that doesn’t seem to be happening. We’re not an item and I’m starting to think that friendship is off the table at this point too. So here’s what’s going to happen—.”
“Can I just say one thing?”
"That won't be necessary," she said flatly. "I don't know what my situation is with Dallas, but I do know it's not your concern. I understand that may be hard for you to hear, but that's not my responsibility to solve for you. However you do that, you have to let all this go. If you can't do that, I'll have to get serious."
“What does that mean?” he demanded. “Are you going to sic campus security on me for trying to look out for you?”
She amped up the pace even more. Her building was in sight, and she couldn't get there soon enough.
“I don’t need security. I can take care of myself, as you’ve seen in person,” she assured him. “But do you hear yourself, Finn? What you consider ‘looking out for me’ feels a lot like obsession. I need you to stop, for both our sakes.”
“But—!” he started to object.
“I’m going to keep walking,” she said over him. “That’s my building, as you already know. You are going to stop walking, go in some other direction, and hopefully go find a quiet spot where you can take a long, hard look at yourself and ask whether you like who you’ve become lately. But unless I initiate a conversation with you, this is the last time we’ll be talking for a while.”
Then she did actually break into a jog as she hurried up the building’s steps, leaving him behind. She could feel Finn’s presence, his eyes on her as she ascended the stairs.
But she never looked back.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“I don’t know,” Brady said. “That feels like a longshot. Maybe we should stick to the pageant connections for now. They’re way more direct.”
The detective was referring to Jessie’s theory that an unhappy client of Benjamin Moran’s might be murderously taking out their frustration on the ex-wives of other clients as a way to make Moran look suspicious and keep the spotlight off themself.
“I agree that they are more direct,” Jessie told him, sitting down at the conference room table, “but there’s no harm in plugging this alternative idea into the database and seeing what pops up. Especially since those pageant connections haven’t given us any obvious suspects yet.”
Despite Brady’s reservations, it didn’t take Jamil long at all to search through Benjamin Moran’s past clients for ones with an axe to grind. In fact, it had taken longer for Jessie to explain her hypothesis to the group than it had for Jamil to find a decent suspect.
