Page 253 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“Don’t make me regret the pronoun.”

Elliot almost smiled. Almost.

“I won’t.”

Ronan stared.

“Another lie?”

Elliot looked at him. Then, for once, answered honestly.

“Probably.”

Ronan laughed. A real laugh. Brief. Disbelieving. Completely exhausted. Elliot smiled too. And somewhere beyond the closed blinds, something moved past the edge of the property without either of them seeing it.

Chapter Twenty-One — He Did It for Me

ELLIOT

TUESDAY · 12:18 A.M.

Ronan had lied for him twice. Elliot counted because counting made things easier. The first lie had been about the mask. The second had been about the phrase Dylan remembered. He’ll choose the monster he knows. Ronan had looked directly at Detective Vance and said the words meant nothing. They did not mean nothing. They meant everything. Elliot sat on the edge of Ronan’s bed with his elbows resting on his knees and stared at the dark floorboards between his bare feet. The house had been quiet for almost an hour. Their parents had returned from dinner, learned enough about the police presence to panic, been reassured by Ronan in the particular exhausted voice he used when trying not to tell his father to fuck off, then finally retreated to the main house after Thomas insisted the patrol car outside made the property safer than most banks.

Rebecca had hugged Elliot before leaving. He had hated that. Not because he disliked his mother touching him. Because she had looked frightened. For him. She believed someone was hunting her son. Technically, someone was. She simply didn’t know what her son had done to earn the attention. Ronan stood across the room near the window. He had opened the blinds by less than an inch despite Vance’s warning and was staring through the gap toward the road. The blue wash of the patrol cruiser’s lights occasionally moved across his face. Not flashing. Just reflected from the dashboard. Elliot watched him.

“Stop.”

Ronan didn’t turn.

“What?”

“Looking outside.”

“Why?”

“Because if they’re watching, they’ll see you.”

“Through a quarter-inch gap?”

“Yes.”

Ronan let the blind fall.

“There.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Dad.”

Elliot almost smiled. Ronan walked toward the bed. He did not sit beside Elliot. Instead, he dropped into the desk chair several feet away. Distance. Still. Elliot noticed every inch of it.

“So,” Ronan said.

Elliot looked up.

“So.”

“Five murders.”