Page 110 of Chalk Outline

“I don’t care about him.”

I look down at her through hooded eyelids, licking my lips. “Can you do me a favor?”

“What?” She places her hands on my hips, her fingers gently stroking the fabric of my t-shirt in soothing patterns.

Heat slowly climbs up my body, and I clear my voice.

“Be careful around this guy. I don’t trust him.”

“Didn’t you run a check-up on him decades ago?” she jokes. “He’s annoying yet harmless. He’s in all my classes, so getting rid of him is a pain.”

“Yeah, I didn’t find anything, but… he prefers to go to parties to get high. He picks fights with random people for the sake of it. He’s always around when you are. He’s obsessed with you. He’s being nice to you, not because he has good manners, but because he expects you to give him something in return. He makes sure you feel comfortable until he crosses the line, then he pulls back. Testing the waters but not diving in. He’s patient but unpredictable—dangerous. Plus, he acts weird around me, as if he’s trying to provoke me. I know you’re almost done with college, so keep an eye out.”

“Sounds a lot like you, Mr. Detective. But you have good manners, and you never took advantage of me.”

I break into a smile. “I could’ve been a hell of a detective.”

“Absolutely. Side note: You did punch him once into unconsciousness. Maybe… that’s why he’s acting the way he does around you. He’s a provoker for sure.” Her eyes flick up and down while I absorb her sharp intake.

“So observant.” I kiss her nose. “Have fun.”

“Rule number one. Always stay alert,” she whispers against my lips, snatching the ball cap from my head with a shit-eating grin and putting it on her head as she scurries away.

Touché, Baby.

I wave at her with the football ticket I slipped from her pocket.

I breathe in the fragments of the sweet scent she left behind as I pull my phone out of my pocket to text Koy. I need to ensure Larson is not a problem. I trust her, but I don’t trust him.

The devil lies in the details.

My phone vibrates in my hand as I accept the call.

“Larson lives with his mom on the other side of the city. He’s a troubled kid, but nothing out of the ordinary. The mom is seeing someone, but it’s not serious, at least not yet.” Koy reports. “Pay no mind to him, Reeve. He’s starving for attention that you shouldn’t nurture. Focus on her.”

I end the call, pocket my phone, pull out my lighter, and burn the fucking ticket.

She’s not going anywhere with that fucking clown.

“Who’s the guy in that photo Winona took in college?” Braxton turns his head toward the back seat, giving me a tense, mortified look.

“That guy from English class. He got cozy with Winona at a party, so I paid someone to spill booze on them,” I reply with a smirk.

“You’re so obsessed.” Mitch pulls a cigarette from his pack and presses it against his lip. “You’re out here exterminating killers so she can live a happy life.” He sighs as he searches his pocket for a lighter.

“What’s his name?” Braxton points us back to the subject as he clicks a few buttons on his laptop.

“I think his name was Larson. Why?”

“He appears in almost every photo Winona took back then, looking directly at her. The only difference is that now he has blonde hair and a face tattoo.”

“What?” I lean closer against the front seat. “What are you talking about?” I stare at Braxton’s laptop screen, where the two photos are lined up side by side.

“He looks exactly like the driver who took you to Third Eye.”

My eyes dance between the photos. Shit.

He does.