Chapter 17

                                    

                                          
I left Four's apartment feeling disconnected from my body. My head  buzzed, my lips tingled and my body was cold from the sudden  abandonment. What just happened? Did he really just throw me out after  kissing me?
                          
I'm tempted to pound on the door and demand he let me  back in, but I have other things on my mind now. Things he told me that  he probably didn't want me to know. Who would have though drunk Four  would talk so freely?
                          
I slip into the driver's seat of Christina's  car and grab the notebook that's sitting on the passenger seat, jotting  down notes as quickly as possible. Time to see if any of these pieces  fit together. I drive off toward the dorm without noticing the extra  pair of eyes, watching me leave.
                          
Back  in my room, I'm clicking away on my laptop while my mind repeats the  same loop over and over. Four owns the bar. His real name is Tobias. A  fact he doesn't like to share. He didn't want his involvement with the  robbery to be recorded by the police or the paper. He may have ties at  the police station who would lie for him, or was that just a threat to  shut me up? His father killed his mother four years ago today. He and  Carlos have known each other since Four was a young child. Carlos is  like a father to him, but they aren't that close. Huh? Carlos is also willing to lie for him. Four likes me.
                          
I  reread the list of clues I've collected and cross out the last one.  That's not a clue. I don't even believe it's true. If he hadn't been so  drunk, our encounter would have been very different. That makes two  amazing kisses I've received recently that meant nothing.
                          
My train  of thought jumps to the other mystery I'm trying to figure out. My  mystery kisser. As nice as it was, it's taken a back seat for the  moment. But since I seem to have hit a dead end trying to unravel the  mystery that is Four, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to examine something I'd  nearly forgotten about. A possible clue as to who kissed me at the  softball game.
                          
The napkin rose is sitting on my dresser, right  where I left it Saturday afternoon. Its shape is perfect. This was not  the first time this person did this to a napkin. In fact, this looks  well practiced. I rack my brain, desperate to determine who might be  good at napkin origami, but nothing comes to mind.
                          
A loud breath  escapes out my nose. Two mysteries on my hands, and I'm stumped on both.  My stomach growls and since my list of clues isn't getting me anywhere,  I decide to head to the kitchen for a snack. I yank open the fridge and  something catches my eye immediately. Christina's leftovers in the tin  foil swan shape. Of course, someone who worked at a restaurant might be  handy with tin foil, so why not napkins? It may not be much, but at  least it's something. Now, do I know anyone who works at a restaurant  who'd pay $1,000 to kiss me? Yeah right. Back to the drawing board.
                          
I  grab the bag of carrot sticks and some dip in addition to a bottle of  water before heading back to my room. Snacking always makes my brain  work better. I stare at the computer screen while double dipping the  carrots in the ranch dressing.
                          
The only thing these puzzle pieces  reveal is that Four is hiding something. Something that he has friends  helping to hide. What could be so bad about Four's past, that he would  lie to the police to stay out of the spotlight?
                          
I hate to do it. I  know it is an invasion of privacy since he wasn't in his right mind  when he told me, but the only thing I really have to go on that might  turn up more information is the death of his mother.
                          
I slam my  laptop shut. I can't do that, can I? What am I really trying to find out  about Four that could justify violating him in this manner? Yes, he has  a secret, but if he wanted me to know about it, he would share it with  me himself. Then again, is that really what I want to know? Or is it  something more selfish.
                          
I close my eyes and picture him kissing me  again. The memory causes my heart to skip a beat. What I really want to  know is why he pushed me away. Is it that he was afraid to take  advantage? I doubt a man in that drunken state would be thinking that  deeply about the situation. This had to be something more engrained in  his mind. Something that was automatic and done even when he wasn't  thinking clear. He said he didn't want me getting messed up with his  life. Because I deserved better.
                          
The more I thought about it, the  harder it was to fight off the desire for information, and I found  myself searching for murder cases that took place four years ago this  day. And wouldn't you know, I got a hit that I am convinced is his  parents story.
                          
The headline read: Chicago man turns himself in after accidentally killing his wife. I continued to read, soaking up every detail like a sponge.
                          
Man  identified as Marcus Eaton from North Street in Chicago, turned himself  in to police Wednesday evening. He claims he and his wife got into an  argument over an unpaid bill. The argument turned physical and Marcus  admits to hitting his wife. In a tragic turn of events, she hit her head  on the granite counter top as she fell and was bleeding badly when  police arrived.
                          
Marcus fled the scene initially. The  couple's only child, son Tobias, found his mother when he returned home  from work that evening. The woman, identified as Evelyn Eaton was taken  to the hospital, but declared dead shortly after arrival.
                          
Marcus turned himself in later that evening and is being held at the Chicago south prison for the time being.
                          
I  read the article over several times. I couldn't believe the terrible  story I'd just learned and the only thing I could imagine was Four  arriving home from work to find his mother on the floor in a pool of her  own blood. The mental picture made me shiver and gave me the urge to  run over to Four's apartment just to give him a hug. Something I knew I  couldn't do, because of how I found out.
                          
There wasn't a doubt in  my mind that this was his family's history. Maybe if I hadn't learned  his real name from Carlos, I would have passed right by the article. But  there was no denying the coincidences. With shaky fingers I typed the  name, Tobias Eaton, into the search box. As soon as I hit enter, a  picture of a slightly younger Four popped up on my screen. It was a  soldier in the marines that started back at me, not the bartended I'd  come to know, but there was no mistaking it. Four is indeed Tobias  Eaton.