Page 289 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“The storage room’s empty.” Elliot stared. Vance stared too. Ronan stepped beside him. Not in front. Beside.

And Elliot understood. Nathan had been right. He’ll choose the monster he knows. Ronan just had. Again.

Chapter Twenty-Four — The Monster He Chose

RONAN

TUESDAY · 2:41 A.M.

Ronan knew Detective Vance did not believe him. That was almost comforting. If she had accepted the lie about the storage room without hesitation, he might have lost whatever microscopic amount of faith he still had in law enforcement. Instead, she stood in the upstairs hallway with her eyes fixed on him for several long seconds while the paramedic continued trying to convince Ronan that three stitches were not an unreasonable response to having his arm sliced open with a knife.

“The storage room is empty,” Ronan repeated.

Beside him, Elliot said nothing. That bothered Ronan. Normally Elliot could produce lies faster than most people produced thoughts. He could smile through them. Soften his eyes. Offer enough unnecessary detail that the person listening felt stupid for doubting him. Now he simply stood there with blood drying across his knuckles. Nathan’s blood. Ronan’s blood. Maybe both. The white T-shirt Elliot had pulled on less than an hour earlier was smeared along one side, and a faint bruise had started forming near his throat where Nathan had grabbed him. He looked nothing like the golden boy Bellweather knew. Good. Maybe Ronan was tired of that version. Maybe he was tired of all versions. He genuinely did not fucking know anymore.

Vance stepped closer.

“Ronan.”

“What?”

“The room.”

“Empty.”

“You understand I can get a warrant.”

“Yes.”

“Then why make this difficult?”

Ronan looked toward the stairs. Nathan had finally stopped shouting. That silence felt temporary.

“Because a psychopath broke into our house, tried to kill us, and apparently knows enough about our lives to narrate them back to police. Forgive me if I’m not eager to let him decide what you search.”

Vance’s expression sharpened.

“Interesting choice of word.”

“What?”

“Psychopath.”

Ronan’s stomach tightened. Elliot moved beside him. Tiny. Enough that Ronan felt it. He looked at Vance.

“Figure of speech.”

“Is it?”

“Do you want to interrogate my vocabulary or arrest the man who just broke into my house?”

“He is in custody.”

“Great.”

“Which means now I investigate why.”

Ronan laughed softly.