RONAN
WEDNESDAY · 10:12 A.M.
Ronan hated county holding. He hated the fluorescent lights. He hated the beige walls. He hated the plastic chairs bolted together in rows. He hated the vending machine humming loudly enough to become part of the architecture. Mostly, he hated that Elliot was somewhere behind three locked doors and Ronan could not simply walk through them. The receptionist had already explained the rules twice. No physical contact. No personal items. No phones inside visitation. Thirty minutes. Maybe less if the facility became busy. Ronan had wanted to ask whether five confessed murders earned Elliot more or less time. He had decided against it. Growth. Apparently. He sat with one knee bouncing while Gregory Bell stood near the far wall speaking quietly into his phone.
Bell had spent most of the morning looking like somebody had personally offended him by inventing criminal law. Ronan understood. Elliot had managed to turn one of the most expensive attorneys in the county into a full-time crisis manager in less than forty-eight hours. Bell ended the call and approached.
“They’re bringing him down.”
Ronan stood immediately. Bell noticed.
“You can sit.”
“No.”
“Fair.”
“What happened overnight?”
Bell’s expression changed. There. Bad. Ronan’s stomach tightened.
“What?”
“The state is preparing charges.”
“I assumed.”
“Five counts of homicide will not be handled quickly.”
“I know.”
Bell studied him. Ronan hated when people did that now. Vance. Bell. His parents. Everyone seemed to look at him like they were trying to determine whether loving Elliot had damaged his brain. Maybe. Still none of their business.
“What degree?”
“Not decided.”
Ronan frowned.
“He confessed to murder.”
“Confession establishes conduct, not necessarily every statutory element of every charge.”
Ronan stared.
“English.”
Bell sighed.
“Prosecutors still have to establish the circumstances of each death. Planning. Intent. Method. Evidence. Elliot’s admission is significant, but it does not replace an investigation.”
“So this could take months.”
“Yes.”
“Years?”
“Potentially.”