Page 426 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“What?”

“Thinking in every direction at once.”

“I’m not.”

“You absolutely are.”

Another message. CUTE, ISN’T IT? Ronan grabbed the phone back. Typed before Bell could stop him. Touch him and I’ll kill you. Sent. Silence. Bell stared. Ronan stared at the screen. Then immediately realized what he had done. Fuck. Saint answered.

THERE HE IS.

Ronan closed his eyes. Of course. Of fucking course. Bell looked over his shoulder.

“You just threatened an unidentified offender in writing.”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful.”

“Not now.”

“No, now is exactly when I say that.”

Ronan ignored him. Another message appeared. YOU PROMISED HIM YOU WOULDN’T. Cold moved through Ronan. Saint knew that too. Maybe from the microphones. Maybe Nathan. Maybe Elliot. Maybe none. It didn’t matter anymore. Ronan typed. I promised him I wouldn’t become him. Pause. Then:

SAME THING.

Ronan’s jaw tightened.

“No.”

Bell looked at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t start that.”

Apparently even Bell knew now. Ronan looked toward the secure corridor.

“Saint thinks violence and becoming Elliot are the same thing.”

Bell stared.

“Given Elliot’s recent confession, I understand the association.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“No?”

“No.”

Ronan paced.

“Elliot killed because he decided people deserved it.”

Bell said nothing. “I threatened Saint because I’m scared.” “That distinction matters legally.” “Fuck legally.” Bell stared. Ronan corrected. “Right now.” “That improvement was almost inspiring.” Ronan ignored him. The door opened. Detective Vance emerged. Ronan went toward her immediately. “Where is he?” “Secure.” “Did you see him?” “Yes.” “Actually?” “Yes.” “Is anyone with him?” “Two officers.” “Names?” Vance’s eyebrows lifted. Ronan realized. “Sorry.” “No, you’re not.” “No.” She held out her hand. “Phone.” Ronan hesitated. “Now.” He gave it over. Vance scrolled through the messages. Her expression hardened at Ronan’s threat. “You typed this?” “Clearly.” “Do not communicate again.” “I know.” “You obviously don’t.” “Where was the photograph taken from?” “We’re checking cameras.” “Then check faster.” Vance looked up. “Ronan.” “What?” “Do not become another problem I have to manage.” The sentence hit exactly where Saint wanted. He knew it. Vance probably did not. Ronan laughed once. “Great.” “What?” “Nothing.” She narrowed her eyes. Ronan shook his head. “Saint keeps trying to make everything I do part of Elliot.” Vance’s expression changed. “Explain.” “The threat.” “Your threat.” “Yes.” “They called it proof I’m becoming him.” Vance looked at the screen again. “Are you?” Ronan stared. Bell went still. “What?” “You lied for Elliot.” Ronan’s stomach tightened. “You concealed information.” Silence. “You destroyed your phone after police questioning.” Ronan’s jaw hardened. Vance continued. “Now you’re threatening to kill someone.” Bell stepped in. “Detective.” “No. He needs to hear it.” Ronan looked at her. For some reason, he appreciated that. Hated it. Also appreciated it. Vance lowered the phone. “You don’t get to dismiss every choice you make because Saint wants to claim credit.” There. Same thing Ronan had been telling Elliot. His chest tightened. Vance continued. “If you lie, that is your lie.” “Yes.” “If you threaten someone, that is your threat.” “Yes.” “If you protect Elliot, that is your decision.” “Yes.” “Saint can interpret it however they want.” Ronan stared. Then exhaled. “Okay.” Bell looked almost surprised. Vance nodded once. “Good.” Ronan almost laughed. Everyone needed a new word. Then an officer appeared through the secured door. “Detective.” Vance turned. The officer’s face was wrong. Ronan knew immediately. “What?” The officer looked at him. Then Vance. “We found something.” Ronan’s stomach dropped. “What?” Vance stepped toward him. “Where?” “Staff access hall.” “Person?” “No.” Ronan hated that answer. The officer continued. “Phone.” Silence. Vance’s expression hardened. “Burner?” “Looks like.” “Where?” “Inside a maintenance cabinet.” Ronan stared. Saint had planted a phone inside county holding. Maybe before today. Maybe weeks ago. Vance asked, “Live?” “Still powered.” “Any camera connection?” “Tech is checking.” Ronan looked toward the corridor. “So Saint isn’t inside.” Vance looked at him. “Maybe not physically.” Relief tried to arrive. Failed. The photograph still existed. Someone or something had taken it. “How?” “Building camera access,” Vance said. Ronan froze. “They hacked the security system.” “Possible.” “So the photo came from county cameras.” “Maybe.” “Then they can see him.” “Yes.”