“What are you doing, Dalton?”
“I’m just saying that just because he has a lot of qualities that you have been looking for doesn’t mean that he’s a good guy.”
“Doesn’t mean that you’re a better guy.”
“I never said that I was, but I’m pretty sure I’m better than him.”
“Well, I don’t know that, and I’m still getting to know him.”
“And I don’t want you to hate me, but I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t want you to think that I’ve overstepped. I’ve got some files on my phone.”
“Okay. What files?”
“Just read them.” He grabs his phone, opens something, and hands it over to me.
“What am I looking at?”
“You’re looking at a police report,” he says.
“Seriously?” I scan his screen.
A victim, whose name was redacted, accused a man by the name of Parker Preston of trying to slip a roofie into her drink.
I press my lips together. “What is this, Dalton?”
“I think that your Parker is not as sweet and innocent as he portrays himself to be. The man’s got issues.”
“How do you know this? How did you get this?”
“I had Brett look into him.”
“Are you freaking kidding me? Why would you do that?”
“Because, like I said, something about him sent warning bells off in my head, and I have a very good intuition when it comes to sensing bad guys.”
I need a minute from his proximity, so I walk over to the window. I look out at the water and take five deep breaths. A few seconds later, I hear footsteps coming toward me, and he stops right behind me.
“I’m sorry.”
I don’t say anything in response. Instead, I watch a surfer attempt to get back on his board and ride away. The water is so treacherous. It looks so beautiful, yet it’s dark, deep, and murky.
I turn to him slowly. “You sure it’s Parker?”
He nods. “There are other reports that date back to his college days at Stanford.”
I wait for him to go on.
“He’s never been arrested though. They were just reports, nothing to prove what he did.”
“But he seemed so nice.”
“They always seem nice, Sage. Haven’t you noticed that?”
I nod and look back at the water.