Page 43 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

this

afternoon

that investigators are seeking information regarding an unidentified individual believed to have been in the vicinity of Saint Augustine's Park between approximately two and three o'clock Sunday morning.”

Ronan's attention sharpened. The screen changed. A grainy security image appeared. Dark street. Timestamp. A figure near the edge of the frame. Black clothing. White face. The room went quiet.

“What the fuck?” someone whispered.

The image enlarged. The quality was terrible. But the mask was unmistakable. White. Cracked. Black around the eyes. A narrow dark line where the mouth should have been. Ronan felt Elliot move beside him. Not backward. Not forward. Just a subtle shift of weight. The reporter continued.

“Police have not identified the individual as a suspect but are asking anyone who recognizes the mask or remembers seeing someone matching this description Saturday night to contact investigators immediately.”

Someone laughed nervously.

“That's fucking creepy.”

Another person said, “Halloween psycho.” Ronan looked at Elliot. He was staring at the television. His face had gone pale. Or maybe the blue light from the screen only made it look that way.

“Hey.”

Elliot didn't respond. Ronan touched his elbow. Elliot blinked.

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“It's creepy.”

That was all. Reasonable. Normal. Ronan looked back at the television. The image remained. Something about the mask bothered him. Not familiarity. He was certain he'd never seen it before. It was the stillness. Even in a blurry security image, the person wearing it seemed unnaturally composed. There was no drunken slouch. No hurried movement. No suggestion that someone had accidentally wandered into frame. The figure appeared to be standing there. Waiting. Then the broadcast returned to Mason's photograph. Noise slowly filled the room again. People immediately started theorizing. Serial killer. Jealous boyfriend. Fraternity hazing gone wrong. Drug dealer. Somebody from Mason's past. Nobody knew anything. That didn't stop them. Ronan looked at Elliot again. He had already turned away from the television.

His attention was somewhere across the room. Dylan. Of fucking course. Dylan stood beside the kitchen entrance talking to the blond guy from earlier. The guy leaned close to say something over the music. Dylan laughed. Then glanced toward Ronan. Elliot saw that too. Ronan sighed.

“You've got to be kidding.”

“What?”

“A possible murderer just appeared on television and you're still thinking about Dylan.”

Elliot looked at him. The sweetest smile spread across his face.

“Multitasking.”

Ronan laughed despite himself.

“Come on.”

“Where?”

“Home.”

Elliot's eyebrows rose.

“You're leaving?”

“Suddenly this party sucks.”