Page 42 of Toxic Obsession

“Who the hell is Lizzie Borden?”

“Q, man, she chopped up her mother and stepfather in 1892. She’s one of the most notorious female serial killers. We’re studying all about the ladies in psychology.” He snorted. “Did you ever pay attention in class?”

“You know I was more into math. Numbers don’t fuck people over.” I tossed the football at him. “You seem way too excited about Lizzie. Maybe you needyourhead examined.”

He reached out and single-handedly caught the ball.

“Really? Because you’re the one who started this bizarre conversation in the first place.”

I leaned back and folded my arms across my chest. “I was just curious.” A heavy sigh escaped me as I began to unravel what he’d said, my thoughts plunging into a full-on tug of war about Wynter. She was responsible for Bell’s death … wasn’t she? My brain said yes, but my heart was telling me a different story. I just wasn’t sure what the truth was anymore.

But I have facts. Facts speak louder than possible pretend actions.

“When you’re ready, I want to meet this girl with no name. I gotta make sure she’s good enough for you.”

Brody stared at me quizzically. “Don’t you mean that I’m good enough for her?”

I shook my head. “Don’t care about her, only you. And before you get all mushy on me, get out of my room. I have shit to do.”

Brody climbed off my bed, then strolled over to me. “Thanks.” He squeezed my shoulder before he left, leaving me alone with my fucked-up whirlwind of thoughts.

I locked my door so I wouldn’t be interrupted again. Then I unlocked my desk and removed Wynter’s file. It was time to finish Kyler’s letters.

Chapter22

Quinn

My eyes burned like a son of a bitch, and they felt as if they’d been doused in salt water. I rubbed them in an attempt to clear my hazy vision, but it was no use. I threw off the heavy comforter and placed my feet against the cold, hardwood floor.

For some reason, I’d hoped reading Kyler’s letters to Wynter last night would answer my questions, but I was wrong. Kyler hadn’t gone into detail about what drove him over the edge, which was frustrating as fuck. He hadn’t provided any of the insight I was searching for. Now, I was more confused about Wynter than ever before. The girl he portrayed wasn’t the same one Adam talked about, but I was also biased toward Bell and Brody. I suspected Kyler was the same about Wynter.

The lack of sleep weighed on me like a ton of bricks, and even though I had probably dozed off for a few hours, it wasn’t enough to give me the energy I needed to be successful on the field during practice. Coach had radar like a bat, and he would zone in on the fact that I was exhausted.

I stretched, then made my way to the bathroom to take a piss. My mind began to spin again, and I released a frustrated groan. From the letters, Kyler and Wynter had been super close. If that was the case, why had he written instead of talked to her? What had happened for him to pull away? The last note only hinted at what was going on, but there were no clear details. Did that mean he finally spoke to her, or did his secret die with him?

I slapped my palm against the wall, then finished my business. A niggling thought tugged at the corner of my mind. Before I made it to class, I had a call to make. Tonight, I would spend more time with Wynter, take Brody’s lead, and watch for any signs that she was like her brother.

After I showered and dressed in clean jeans and a Whitmore University hoodie, I scooped up my phone from the nightstand. Maybe it had been intuition, or maybe just stupid luck, but a while ago Kane had confided in me that he and Brie had needed security. I didn’t need a bodyguard, but he mentioned he would bet a lot of money that Sutton Westbrook was better than any PI. I wasn’t sure why I asked for the phone number, but I had, and now I had a use for it. Reaching out to her for help was worth a shot.

Locating Westbrook Securities contact information, I tapped the green icon on my screen before I held the phone to my ear. My heart jackhammered against my ribs as if this was the worst idea I’d ever had. Maybe it was.

“Westbrook Security, this is Sutton Westbrook.”

I cleared my throat. “Mrs. Westbrook, my name is Quinn. Kane Cooper gave me your number. I’m on the Whitmore University football team with him.”

“Hi, Quinn. What can I do for you?”

I liked her immediately. She neither confirmed nor denied that Kane had been a client. Pacing the room, I told her about the file Adam had given me and about the letters. She remained silent until I was finished.

“Just to confirm, you need to know if the information is legit?”

“From what I have found on the internet, it is. But the letters …” I shoved a hand through my damp hair. “Would you think I was weird if I told you something didn’t feel right?”

“Not at all. I trust my gut all the time. If yours is saying something is off, always follow that nudge.”

She’d just confirmed what I thought. “Okay. What’s next?”

“I have a friend who’s a specialist in handwriting. I’m currently in Portland, so how about we meet, then you can give me the letters. Make copies to keep, though. Actually, copy the file. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look at everything that you have.”

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