Page 165 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“Don't discuss the investigation where you can be overheard.”

Ronan glanced toward the station. Then walked toward his motorcycle. Elliot followed. His heart beat harder now. Not because of Vance. Because Ronan had seen the shape of something. Not enough to identify it. Enough to recognize design. That was dangerous. At 2:36 P.M., Bell called. The router records had been obtained voluntarily through a narrow request. Elliot's phone had remained connected to the carriage-house network from 7:41 P.M. Tuesday until 8:12 A.M. Wednesday. Continuous. No disconnect. No movement. Bell sounded satisfied.

“The device corroborates your account.”

Elliot stood beneath the stone arcade at Bellweather listening. Students moved through light rain beyond the arches.

“Good.”

“Detective Vance will still investigate other evidence.”

“I know.”

“But this is favorable.”

“Thank you.”

He ended the call. For several seconds, Elliot stared at his reflection in the dark phone screen. A perfect alibi. Almost. His phone had been home. His car had been home. Ronan had seen him before midnight. Digital records carried him through morning. No evidence put him with Lucas. Vance would have to shift. The question was where. Elliot already knew. Ronan owned dark clothing. A black full-face helmet. A motorcycle that could move through Bellweather without resembling the sedan captured near the river. He had violence in his history. A relationship with Dylan. Jealousy. Possessiveness. Police had already started assembling those pieces. Elliot's satisfaction vanished. He looked across the quad. Ronan stood near the curb. He hadn't told Elliot he was coming.

Apparently Elliot wasn't the only one checking locations now. Ronan leaned against his motorcycle, arms folded, expression unreadable from this distance. Elliot approached.

“You stalking me?”

Ronan didn't smile.

“Bell called me.”

Of course.

“And?”

“Your phone was home.”

“Yes.”

“All night.”

“Yes.”

Ronan stared. Elliot stopped several feet away.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Elliot's jaw tightened.

“Fuck that word.”

Ronan finally smiled. Barely. Then:

“You really were home.”

Elliot looked at him. Trust returning. Not completely. A little. Elliot felt relief so intense it almost made him angry.

“Yes.”

Ronan exhaled.