Page 179 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“The mask. Lucas. Mason. Dylan. Now this.”

“I said stop.”

“Maybe Vance was right.”

Ronan stared.

“About what?”

“Maybe you should be afraid of me.” The sentence came soft. Too soft. Ronan crossed the space between them before Elliot could move again. He caught his face between both hands. Elliot froze.

“Listen to me.”

His eyes met Ronan's.

“I am not afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

“No.”

“You don't know that.”

“I know you.” Elliot laughed, but his eyes had gone wet. Barely. Enough. Ronan's chest tightened.

“I know you,” he repeated.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it's true.”

“What if it isn't?” Ronan stared at him. For one second, he didn't know what to say. That second was enough. Elliot saw it. His face changed. Ronan felt him pull away before he physically moved.

“Elliot.”

“Don't.” He stepped back. Ronan let his hands fall. The distance between them was less than three feet. It felt enormous. Outside, somewhere beyond the closed blinds, a car passed along the road. Both looked toward the sound. Ronan's phone vibrated again. Unknown number. His pulse jumped. He opened it. No photograph. One message. Ask your brother where he was when Mason screamed. Ronan stopped breathing. Elliot saw his face.

“What?” Ronan didn't answer.

“Ronan.”

He looked at Elliot. Then slowly turned the phone around. Elliot read the message. Every trace of color disappeared from his face. Ronan watched him. Watched the fear. Watched the shock. Watched something else beneath both that he couldn't identify. For the first time since Mason Kerr died, Ronan didn't immediately tell himself Elliot couldn't have done it. He simply stood there. Looking at his brother. And wondering why someone else seemed so certain that he had.

Chapter Fifteen — Ask Me Again

ELLIOT

MONDAY · 4:31 P.M.

Elliot had imagined Ronan discovering the truth before. More times than he wanted to admit. The scenarios changed depending on his mood. Sometimes Ronan found the mask. Sometimes he followed Elliot. Sometimes Detective Vance arrived with handcuffs and evidence and enough certainty that lying became pointless. Once, during a particularly boring lecture, Elliot had imagined simply telling him. Sitting across from Ronan at the kitchen island and saying the words plainly. I killed them. He had never imagined this. Ronan standing three feet away with his phone in one hand and doubt written openly across his face. That hurt more than Elliot expected. Ask your brother where he was when Mason screamed. The message remained on the screen between them.

Elliot couldn't stop looking at it. Not because it frightened him. Because somebody knew. Not everything. Maybe. But enough. Enough to know Mason had screamed. Enough to know Elliot had been there. Enough to know Ronan was the pressure point. That was the part Elliot couldn't understand. If whoever sent the message wanted Elliot exposed, they could have contacted Vance directly. They hadn't. They contacted Ronan. Why?

“Elliot.”

He looked up. Ronan's expression had hardened.

“Where were you?”