Page 224 of Faking the Goal

I search for the right way to explain it without sounding ridiculous.

"It's mostly the way he looks at me now. Whenever we cross paths, he just... stares. And there's something about it that makes my skin crawl."

Kentaro picks up where I leave off.

"We saw him at the arena the night of the break-in."

Matthews turns toward him.

"He saw Taylor and me together."

"Did anything happen?"

"No. But he looked pissed."

Kentaro gives a small shrug.

"Maybe it means nothing. But considering everything else, I thought you should know."

Matthews finishes writing before looking back at us.

"You were right to mention him. I'll have someone take a closer look at Mr. Finnegan and see whether anything about his movements or background lines up with what we already have. That doesn't make him a suspect at this point, but it's enough for us to follow up."

He closes the notebook and slides one of his business cards across the table toward me.

"For now, keep doing what you've been doing. Pay attention to your surroundings. Try not to be alone if you can avoid it. And save everything this person sends you, no matter how insignificant it seems."

His expression turns more serious.

"If either of you notices anything unusual—a car you keep seeing, someone showing up in the same places, a name that starts coming up more than once—call me. Sometimes the detail that cracks a case open is the one nobody thought mattered at first."

Kentaro and I exchange a glance before nodding.

"We will."

*****

KENTARO

I'm halfway through lunch with the guys when Taylor comes rushing into the cafeteria, weaving around crowded tables with her bag bouncing against her hip and an excited smile already spreading across her face when she spots me.

It also makes it impossible not to smile back.

"Damn," Cody says from across the table. "Taylor looks like she's on a mission."

She is. Apparently, the mission is me.

"Ken-chan!"

A few heads turn at the volume of her voice, but Taylor doesn't seem to notice. She reaches our table slightly out of breath, cheeks flushed from rushing across campus, and immediately looks around.

Every chair is taken.

The cafeteria is more crowded than usual today, with students packed around nearly every table and not an empty chair anywhere nearby. Davis starts to push his chair back.

"You can take mine."

"I'm almost done anyway," Reese offers at the same time.