Page 366 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“They’re heading toward Bellweather Lake.”

Everything inside Elliot went cold.

“Where?”

“South access road.”

He knew it. Old marina. Seasonal cabins. Boat-storage sheds. Remote in November.

“Saint knows the lake.”

Ronan frowned.

“How?”

“I mentioned it.”

“When?”

“Forum.”

“Of course.”

Elliot closed his eyes. Saint had asked where Elliot went when he wanted silence. He’d answered Bellweather Lake. Months ago. Before Tyler. Before anything. Ronan saw his face.

“What?”

“I told Saint.”

“About the lake.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“They asked where I felt calm.”

Ronan went quiet. That was somehow more violating than the murder questions. Personal details turned into geography. Preferences turned into traps. Saint had built a map of Elliot piece by piece and Elliot had handed them half the coordinates.

“Which part?”

“Old marina.”

Vance immediately looked back.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

She relayed it. Police shifted. Ronan’s grip remained around Elliot’s hand. No one spoke for the next seven minutes. Then the SUV slowed. Vance looked at the phone.

“The van stopped.”

Elliot’s pulse slammed.

“Where?”

“Boat-storage yard.”