Page 85 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

Ronan blinked.

“I wasn't.”

“You were.”

Dylan looked between them. Ronan took a drink.

“You're paranoid.”

Elliot smiled.

“That makes two of us.”

Ronan's jaw tightened slightly. Good. Elliot returned to eating. For several minutes, conversation died. The television supplied images instead. Bellweather police headquarters. Saint Augustine's Park. Lucas smiling beside friends. Mason smiling beside different friends. Flowers. Candles. Parents climbing into vehicles while cameras followed them. Grief packaged neatly into thirty-second segments. Dylan's phone vibrated. He checked it.

“Fuck.”

“What?” Ronan asked.

“My mom.”

Ronan smiled faintly.

“Dangerous.”

“She thinks I'm involved.”

The smile disappeared. Elliot looked over. Dylan read the message again.

“She asked if I need a lawyer.”

“You probably should have one,” Elliot said.

Ronan turned.

“What?”

Elliot shrugged.

“If police keep questioning him.”

Dylan stared.

“You think?”

“Yes.”

“Elliot,” Ronan said.

“What?”

“Maybe don't tell him he needs a lawyer like he's about to be arrested.”

“I didn't.”

“You basically did.”

Dylan looked down at his phone.