Page 19 of To Obsess

Her eyes narrow slightly, bouncing between me and the receipt. “It’s a mistake, right?”

I shrug. “According to the lady at the office, it’s not a mistake. She said it was against their policy to tell me who had paid the bill, but she could tell me that it is, in fact, one hundred percent paid in full.”

“That’s fucking weird,” Abby says with one last look at the receipt before moving on to the reason she’s here. “So, about this podcast?”

“Right. That,” I start, suddenly more nervous than I’ve been around Abby in years. “I had an idea last night.” I pick at the cuticle of my left thumb, steeling myself to let her into my thoughts—preparing myself to defend my idea, even if it’s not fully fleshed out yet.

“What if we did a podcast about unsolved weird shit going on around here? The entire first season could be about the cards I’ve been getting basically my whole life. From there, we could investigate some missing people, or maybe some hauntings, or even focus on local cryptids possibly.” I rush through the words, not giving myself enough time to second-guess my inspiration.

“Oooooh, the cards, like I mentioned forever ago? Those cards?” she finally says, the twinkle in her eye on full display. I first noticed it when we were about twelve and I was teasing her about a boy in our class. She adamantly denied the huge crush she had on him, but that twinkle was there any time he was around. Since then, it’s been the gauge I use to measure her excitement. And from the looks of it, she’s beyond excited for this idea.

Abby’s sarcasm has been known to throw people off when it’s on full display like this, but I’ve always found it to be one of her more endearing traits personally.

The sigh of relief that leaves my body would put most angsty teenagers to shame. “Oh, thank the gods,” I breathe. “Glad I didn’t waste my time writing down every detail I can remember last night.”

For the next two hours, we sift through everything I’d written down, discussing each detail to make sure it all lines up. Memories are a fickle thing that tend to change over time, but this is my story, so I’m telling it as I remember it.

“Mexican?” Abby asks, finally looking up from the stack of papers strewn across the coffee table.

I nod, collecting all the papers and slipping them back into the three-ring binder I found last night.

“That’s a wrap,” I say, pressing the STOP button on the screen with a smile wide enough to hurt my cheeks. We might not have any listeners, and this whole dream might go up in flames before it ever has a chance to gain any momentum, but at least have one episode recorded. Now, it just needs to be edited and then uploaded. What happens from there is in fate’s hands, but I’m thrilled with the progress so far. It just feels right, like something has settled in my bones that I’ve been waiting for a long time.

Abby and I spent the last two days going over the specifics before finally hitting record bright and early this morning. Typically, I’m not an early bird, but this project has been causing me to lose sleep since we decided to give it an actual shot. The restless nights have been worth it though. If only I could bottle this feeling.

“I wrote a blog post about the upcoming episode yesterday,” I fill her in when I’ve made sure everything recorded correctly and is saved safely on the hard drive. “It got quite a bit of interest, so I’ve got my fingers and toes crossed that it does well when it’s posted next Friday.”

“Good! I’m sure it’ll do great. People love a weird story without a real resolution to date. At least, I do,” she says with a smirk. Abby’s always been intrigued by the birthday cards, throwing out tons of outrageous theories over the years. None of them have panned out thus far, but if anyone can figure it out, it’ll be her.

Plopping down on the couch, Abby pulls her feet up beneath her. “Did you ever hear anything else about the dead guy?”

I shake my head, settling in on the other side of the couch, body facing her. “No, the police said they would call if anything happened, but I haven’t heard back. I’m assuming they haven’t figured out who did it yet. No arrests or anything that I know of.”

“That’s so weird. We should cover that on the podcast sometime. Next season maybe,” she says, flipping through her phone absentmindedly. “What do you think of this guy?” she asks, turning her phone to show me the screen.

I roll my eyes, all but ignoring her. Abby has been on a string of bad dates recently, but somehow, that seems to have only strengthened her resolve when it comes to finding Mr. Right. “I think he’s probably as much of a dick as every other douchebag you’ve been out with lately,” I admit with a small smile. Dating apps have never been my cup of tea, although I’ve been considering them more heavily as of late. Picking up a man in the bar just results in him being brutally murdered apparently, so maybe a dating app would have better results.

“At least one of us is getting laid regularly,” she jabs with a laugh before nudging my shoulder with her own.

“I’m traumatized, woman,” I shoot back with a smile of my own. It comes out lighthearted, but if I’m being honest with myself, I think I actually am a little traumatized from everything that’s happened recently. I keep thinking that if I just knew why Gunnar was killed, that might change how I feel about everything. Or if I could tie Landon and Gunnar’s murders together, that could help find the killer. I don’t have any concrete evidence they’re connected, but it seems weird. Two guys both end up dead after going on a date with me? Definitely not a coincidence.

Later that night, I find myself curled up on the couch with a new book, Chinese takeout on the coffee table, and soft music playing from the speaker in the corner of the room. It’s the perfect end to a great day with my best friend. I even finished up most of the editing for the first episode of the podcast this evening.

Ding!

I pick up my phone, fully expecting to see a text from Abby or my mom, but instead, I find a notification from the security cameras. Motion detected, back door. My heart leaps into my throat as I click the notification and wait for the video to load. My pulse picks up as I watch the video, only to find a squirrel running across the backyard with a nut, heading for the tree line.

But there’s something there in the trees, just beyond the reach of the light. Something’s out there, lurking in the shadows of the late evening. I can’t see anything, but I can feel it as the hairs on the back of my neck stand and goosebumps crawl over my skin.

I’m being watched.

Chapter 19

KILLIAN

“Killian.” I look up at the sound of my name, dragging me back to reality.

“Can I help you?” I ask, doing my best to recover my composure. I hadn’t even heard my boss walk up to my desk, let alone anything he said after that.