Page 254 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

There it was again. Elliot looked away. Ronan leaned back.

“I’m not doing that to punish you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I’m trying to make my brain understand.”

“It understands.”

“No.”

Elliot looked at him. Ronan’s expression was tired. Not angry. That was somehow worse.

“My brain understands that you said five,” Ronan continued. “It does not understand that I have apparently been sleeping next to someone who killed five people.”

“Four before Lucas.”

“That does not help.”

“I know.”

Ronan’s eyes narrowed. Elliot almost smiled.

“Sorry.”

“That phrase might get banned next.”

“Along with nothing?”

“Especially nothing.”

Silence. Elliot picked at a loose thread on the knee of his sweatpants. Ronan watched.

“Did you ever come home right after?”

Elliot stopped.

“What?”

“After killing someone.”

The question felt strangely intimate.

“Yes.”

“How many times?”

“Three.”

Ronan stared.

“Three.”

“Yes.” “And I was here?” “Twice.” Silence. Elliot could see him searching memory. That frightened him more than the question. “Which nights?” “Ronan.” “I want to know.” “Why?” “Because I’m trying to figure out whether I saw it.” “You didn’t.” “That’s not what I asked.” Elliot looked toward the window. “Tyler.” Ronan waited. “You were here.” “When?” “February.” “Specific.” “Eighth.” Ronan’s face changed. Recognition. Small. Elliot’s stomach tightened. “You remember.” Ronan stared at the floor. “You came home late.” “Yes.” “You said Claire’s car wouldn’t start.” “Yes.” “That was a lie.” “Yes.” Ronan laughed quietly. The sound hurt. “I fixed her fucking battery the next weekend.” Elliot looked down. “I know.” “You let me.” “Yes.” Ronan dragged both hands over his face. “Jesus Christ.” Elliot swallowed. “Do you want me to stop?” “No.” That surprised him. Ronan looked up. “If I stop asking now, I’ll fill in the blanks myself.” “That could be worse.” “Exactly.” Elliot nodded. Ronan asked: “Was there blood on you?” “No.” “Did you shower?” “Before coming home.” “Where?” “I’m not answering operational questions.” Ronan stared. “Operational.” “Details that could help someone understand how I did it.” “I’m not planning a murder.” “I know.” “Then why?” “Because if police ever question you, I don’t want you knowing things you have to lie about.” Ronan went very still. Elliot realized what he had said. Again. Too late. “You’re protecting me from knowing.” “Yes.” “After I already lied for you.” “Yes.” Ronan laughed bitterly. “Little late for moral boundaries.” “It isn’t moral.” “No shit.” “It’s practical.” “There he is.” Elliot frowned. “Who?” “The fucking psychology robot.” “I’m not a robot.” “You sound like one when you’re scared.” Elliot’s jaw tightened. Ronan leaned forward. “You did it downstairs too.” “Did what?” “Started explaining everything like a case study because feeling it would be worse.” Elliot stared. That was annoyingly accurate. He hated when Ronan did that. “You’re learning.”

Ronan’s expression changed.

“What?”