Page 100 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“Before we begin, Mr. Mercer, you're here voluntarily.”

“I understand.”

“You are free to leave.”

“Okay.”

Bell folded his hands. Vance opened the folder. A photograph appeared. Lucas. Not his body. Security footage. Bellweather Tap. Timestamp: 11:50 P.M. Lucas on the sidewalk. Dylan beside him. A third figure across the street. Dark clothes. Cap. Poor resolution. Elliot looked at it.

“You showed me this yesterday.”

“Yes.”

Vance placed another photograph beside it. Different camera. Same figure. Time: 12:03 A.M. Walking east.

“Recognize him?”

“No.”

Another photograph. 12:19 A.M. The figure farther east. Near a gas station. Another. 12:37 A.M. River district. Elliot's heartbeat changed. Not enough. Vance placed one final photograph down. A vehicle. Dark. Grainy. Partially obscured by rain. Elliot stared. Bell looked too. Vance spoke quietly.

“This vehicle entered the river access road at 12:44.”

Elliot said nothing.

“Exited at 1:31.”

Bell leaned closer. The photograph was terrible. No plate. No clear make. Sedan. Dark. Hundreds like it. Vance's eyes remained on Elliot. “Your car is a dark blue sedan.” Bell spoke before Elliot could. “So are approximately several thousand vehicles in Middlesex County.” Vance nodded. “Correct.” “Then what's the relevance?” “We're eliminating possibilities.” Bell sat back. “Then eliminate.” Vance looked at Elliot again. “Where were you Tuesday night between midnight and two?” “Home.” “Anyone confirm?” “Ronan.” “Was he awake?” Elliot remembered. Tuesday night. Lucas. Home. Ronan working downstairs. Elliot upstairs. Mostly. “He saw me.” “When?” “Before midnight.” “After?” Elliot paused. Vance noticed. Of course. “I don't know.” “Did you leave the house?” “No.” “Use your car?” “No.” “Anyone else have access?” “Ronan.” Vance wrote something down. “Did he use it?” “No.” “You're certain?” “Yes.” Bell watched Elliot now. Not suspicious. Careful. Elliot hated having two people watching. Vance turned another page. “Lucas Harper had your phone number.” Elliot's attention sharpened. Bell spoke. “From what source?” “His phone.” Elliot frowned.

“I didn't know that.”

“You never gave it to him?”

“I might have.”

“Might?”

“We had mutual friends.”

“Did he ever contact you?”

“Not that I remember.”

Vance slid a printout across the table. One outgoing message. Lucas to Elliot. Three months earlier. you coming tonight? Elliot stared. Then remembered. A party. Claire had borrowed his phone after hers died. Or maybe Lucas had gotten the number from a group chat. It genuinely meant almost nothing.

“I don't remember this.”

“No response.”

“Then apparently I ignored him.”

Vance watched. Bell interrupted.

“If that's the entirety of their direct communication, we're stretching the definition of contact.”

Vance ignored him.

“Did Mason Kerr have your number?”