Page 81 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

Ronan picked up his fork.

“Eat.”

Dylan's smile widened.

“Interesting.”

“Drop it.”

Across the room, Elliot closed the refrigerator. Ronan didn't know how much he'd heard. His expression gave nothing away. He returned with three bottles. Set one in front of Dylan. One in front of Ronan. Kept the third.

“Thanks,” Dylan said.

Elliot sat.

“Anytime.”

Sweet. Warm. Perfect. The conversation moved on. For nearly an hour, they talked about anything except murder. Professors. Classes. Some disastrous student-government scandal Elliot found hilarious. Dylan gradually relaxed. So did Ronan. At 8:11, Dylan's phone rang. His face changed the instant he saw the screen.

“Police?”

Ronan asked. Dylan nodded. He stood and walked toward the living room. Elliot watched him. Ronan watched Elliot.

“What?”

Elliot whispered.

“Nothing.”

Ronan hated the word now. Dylan answered.

“Hello?”

A pause. His shoulders stiffened.

“Yeah.”

Another.

“What do you mean?”

Ronan stood. Elliot remained seated. Dylan turned away from them.

“No. No, I didn't.”

His voice rose.

“I told you where I was.”

Ronan crossed the room. Dylan looked over. Something close to panic had entered his face.

“What happened?” Ronan mouthed.

Dylan lifted one finger. Then the person on the phone said something. All the color drained from Dylan's face. He lowered the phone slowly.

“What?” Ronan asked.

Dylan stared at him.