"I feel the same way, and I also feel the safest when I'm with you. I can't trust anyone else. Please, don't leave me behind, Matt."
He drew in a deep breath and let it out. "I'll think about it. As for what happened before Anthony called?—"
"Let's not talk about that," she interrupted. "It was great. Can we leave it at that?"
"Can we?" he queried, giving her a searching look.
"Yes. Let's just have dinner and put everything else aside." She could see Matt putting up his professional walls, and she didn't think a conversation about the way they'd just kissed each other would be helpful. "Is the chili ready?"
"It is," he said, a conflicted gleam in his eyes. "I still feel like we should talk, Haley."
"We've done enough talking," she said decisively. "Let's eat. We'll figure out tomorrow…tomorrow."
ChapterTwenty
Monday morning, on the drive to Westbridge University, Matt was still wondering if he'd made the right decision in allowing Haley to go with him. But unless he arrested her, she was going to leave whatever safehouse he put her in and talk to whoever she wanted to talk to.
She'd also argued that as Landon's sister, she might be able to get more out of Professor Harrington than he could, and it was a valid point. He just hoped he wasn't making a huge mistake. Although his biggest mistake so far had probably been kissing Haley in his kitchen last night. He'd been fighting his attraction to her, and he'd slipped up. It had been one hell of a kiss, too, and it was probably fortunate that Anthony had called just in time to derail whatever runaway train they'd gotten on.
After that, they'd eaten dinner in relative silence. Then Haley had said she was going to bed, and he'd gone into his office to write down his thoughts on the investigation. He'd spent a couple of hours going over everything they'd learned so far, and while there were a lot of pieces on the game board, he couldn't connect any of them directly to a crime. But whatever was happening now had started at Westbridge, and it was time to go back to the beginning.
His phone buzzed, and he put it on speaker, eager to hear how Jason's visit to the hospital this morning had gone. "Jason, how's Brooke? Were you able to question her?"
"Yes. But she was still out of it. The doctor said she lost a lot of blood, and she's very weak. She could barely keep her eyes open. He told me to come back later today."
"Did she say anything at all?"
"She told me she was scared. I asked who she was scared of, and she said everyone. I told her there were guards outside her door, and I was going to restrict visitors, including her boyfriend, until she was feeling better. She was fine with that. She didn't fight to get Kyle in or anyone else."
"That's interesting."
"Jill Adler, Trent Adler, and Kyle Vance were in the waiting room. They all displayed the appropriate amount of shock, concern, and ignorance."
"What about the Russian man who was there last night?"
"Wasn't there this morning, and we haven't dug up any information on Viktor Danilovich other than what I sent you last night. I'm heading back to the office now. Derek thinks he might be close to a breakthrough on the drive, so I'll let you know as soon as that happens."
"Thanks."
"I'm glad Brooke is still alive," Haley said. "I just hope she has more to say."
"We'll give her time to recover and then press harder."
He turned his focus back to the road as he drove down the Pacific Coast Highway to the hills of the Palos Verdes Peninsula, where the campus was located. As he got closer to Westbridge, he left the highway, entering the winding roads of the peninsula where the woods thickened, and city living quickly dropped away. He slowed as the campus gates came into view: smooth stone walls, an engraved sign that said Westbridge, and a security kiosk.
He showed his badge at the kiosk, and they were waved on. The road curved upward, and then the campus suddenly opened in front of them—a breathtaking vista of red-tiled roofs and cream-colored stone buildings set on terraced hills above the Pacific Ocean. Tall oak trees created natural boundaries between academic quads, while perfectly manicured lawns stretched between Spanish colonial buildings that looked like they'd been transplanted from a European monastery.
"It's beautiful," he murmured.
"It's supposed to be," Haley said. "Everything here is designed to look perfect. To make you believe that nothing bad could ever happen in a place this pristine. But, of course, that isn't true."
He drove down the main road past the library—a massive stone structure with Gothic windows—and the student center, where clusters of young people sat at outdoor tables under umbrellas. The cars in the parking lots were BMWs, Mercedes, and a few Teslas. This wasn't a place where scholarship kids blended in easily.
"Turn left here," Haley said suddenly, pointing to a smaller road that led away from the main campus. "Fraternity row is down that way. I want to show you the fraternity house before we go to faculty housing."
The road curved through a grove of pine trees before opening onto a street lined with large houses, each one displaying Greek letters and surrounded by well-maintained landscaping. They looked more like expensive suburban homes than college housing.
"Stop," Haley said as they approached a large Tudor-style house. "That's it. That was Landon's fraternity."
