The Game by Vi Keeland by Vi Keeland

Looking down at the photo again, the tire marks faded away, and all I could see was what was underneath. Skin. The pale flesh of my mother’s dead body. Nausea rushed up from my stomach. I took off running for the bathroom with the page still in my hand, stumbling to the toilet bowl just in time to empty everything inside me.

My head hung over the porcelain while a layer of sweat sheathed my forehead. I felt like I might vomit again, but the sudden urge to flee had me pushing to my feet to get the hell out of here first. The papers were still spread out all over the floor when I grabbed my purse.

Jake’s fiancée was standing in the living room. She took one look at my face and put down the decoration in her hand. “Are you okay? You’re so pale.”

I shook my head. “Yeah, umm…actually, no. I’m not feeling too good. I think I ate something that is disagreeing with me. I just got sick.”

“Oh no!”

I pointed to the door. “I’m going to go. I don’t want to ruin the party and…just in case it’s a bug and not something I ate, I wouldn’t want to get anyone sick.”

“You poor thing.”

I forced a smile and waved a quick goodbye at everyone else before heading for the door.

The entire way home, I wracked my brain, trying to figure out why Christian would have my mom’s old police file. I didn’t come up with any answers, but my intuition told me when I eventually found them, I was going to feel a lot sicker than I did now.





CHAPTER 27




* * *



CHRISTIAN



My call went to voicemail for the third time.

“Still not answering?” Lara asked.

I shook my head.

I’d arrived home after practice and had the crap scared out of me by my brother, his fiancée, and her sisters. I hadn’t even known he was in town today, but it was always good to see him, and it had been a long time since we’d celebrated our joint birthday together since we were born smack in the middle of football season. But my festive mood had taken a hit when Lara told me Bella had been here and then left, not feeling well.

“Maybe she’s sleeping or her phone died?”

Either reason made perfect sense, but I still felt uneasy not knowing she was okay when she’d left to travel home while feeling sick. Knowing her, she probably took the subway and didn’t even think about an Uber or a cab.

Jake walked over, eating a shrimp. He shoved it in his mouth and spoke with it full. “Go. We’ll meet you at the restaurant.”

His fiancée’s nose wrinkled. “Go where?”

“He wants to go check on Bella, but he’s trying to be polite since we’re all here.”

My brother knew me well. Plus, if it were Lara who had gotten sick and wasn’t answering her phone, he’d feel the same way. So I nodded. “Thanks. I’m going to change my shirt, and I’ll grab a cab and have him wait while I run up to check on her. Then I’ll have him bring me to the restaurant.”

My brother held a hand up. “No worries. Take your time.”

I’d made it halfway to the closet in my bedroom when I froze mid-step.

The case file was all over the floor. My eyes flickered to the bed. The only time it was ever made was the day the cleaning people came or when Bella stayed over. Oh fuck.

Lara said Bella had gotten sick, so I walked to the bathroom.

Whatever small hope I’d had that maybe my brother or his fiancée had made my bed and accidentally knocked over the papers flew out the window when I saw the picture of the tire mark on Bella’s mother’s body sitting on the floor beside the toilet.

I shut my eyes.

This wasn’t good.

I needed to get to her. Now.



***



I breathed a sigh of relief when Bella opened the door, and I wrapped her in my arms before saying a word. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

She pulled back. “I’m not okay, Christian. What the hell is going on?”

“Can I come inside?”

She nodded.

I wasn’t sure how or where to begin, and she wasn’t going to give me any time to find a delicate way to explain things.

She shut the door and folded her arms across her chest. “Why do you have my mother’s police file?”

I motioned to the couch. “Can we sit?”

“You’re freaking me out, Christian. What’s going on?”

“Please?” I walked over to the couch and extended a hand to her. “You’re pale, and I’d feel better if you sat.”

She huffed, but sat down. “I’m sitting. Talk.”

I took the seat next to her and rubbed the back of my neck. “I asked my brother to get a copy of the file.”

“Okay…but why? If you wanted to know more about it, I could’ve told you. It feels…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It feels like you invaded my privacy or something.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“So why did you?”

I blew out two cheeks full of air. “It’s a long story. But it started when you mentioned that the driver who left the scene was driving a collectible car. You said two witnesses gave different descriptions of the car, but one said it was an old blue Ford Thunderbird.”