Chapter Seven — The Last Person to See Him #3
Dylan stepped inside. Elliot appeared behind Ronan. His voice softened instantly.
“You okay?”
Dylan looked at him. Some of the tension in his face loosened.
“Not really.”
Elliot nodded. No sarcasm. No jealousy. Just concern.
“Do you want something to drink?”
“Beer?”
“Yeah.”
“Please.”
Elliot walked toward the kitchen. Dylan watched him go. Then looked at Ronan.
“Your brother is being nice to me.”
“Stepbrother.”
“Whatever.”
Dylan lowered his voice.
“Should I be scared?”
Ronan almost laughed. Instead his eyes moved toward Elliot. He stood at the refrigerator with his back to them. Perfect posture. Perfectly calm. The same man who had threatened Dylan's fingers less than two weeks earlier.
“No,” Ronan said.
The answer came automatically. Because Elliot was Elliot. Jealous. Possessive. Difficult. Sweet when he wanted to be. Cruel when he was angry. A thousand contradictions Ronan understood better than anyone. Elliot returned carrying the beer. He held it out. Dylan took it.
“Thanks.”
“Of course.”
Their fingers didn't touch. Elliot made sure of that. Ronan noticed. Dylan didn't. They ate twenty minutes later. For the first few minutes nobody mentioned Lucas. Then Elliot asked gently, “What did the police say?” Dylan stared at his plate.
“Not much.”
“You told them he thought someone was following him?”
Ronan looked at Elliot. Dylan did too.
“How'd you know that?”
Elliot's eyes moved toward Ronan.
“Ronan told me.”
Silence. Tiny. Ronan felt something uncomfortable in it. Then Dylan nodded.
“Yeah.”
“What did they think?”
“No idea.”
“Did Lucas say when it started?”
Dylan frowned.
“Maybe after Mason died.”
“Maybe?”
“I don't remember.”
Elliot took a drink.
“Did he ever say where he saw the guy?”
Ronan put his fork down.
“Elliot.”
“What?”
“Stop.”
Elliot looked genuinely confused. Dylan shook his head.
“No, it's okay.”
“It isn't.”
“I don't care.”
Elliot's attention returned to Dylan. Dylan rubbed one hand over his face.
“He said outside the library once. Outside his apartment another time.”
“Same clothes?”
“I don't know.”
“Did he think it was somebody from Bellweather?”
“Elliot.”
This time Ronan's voice sharpened. Elliot stopped. His gaze slowly moved toward him.
“What?”
“You're doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Treating people like interviews.”
Something cold appeared behind Elliot's eyes. Dylan immediately looked between them.
“It's fine, man.”
“No, it isn't.”
Ronan held Elliot's gaze.
“Not everything is your fucking psychology homework.”
Silence settled over the table. Again. Same mistake as the night before. Elliot placed his fork down carefully.
“Okay.”
There was that word. Ronan exhaled.
“Don't do that.”
Dylan looked miserable.
“I can leave.”
“No,” Ronan said.
“Yes,” Elliot said at the same time.
Ronan glared. Elliot smiled sweetly.
“Kidding.”
Dylan laughed despite himself. The tension broke. A little. Elliot stood.
“I'll get more drinks.”
Ronan watched him walk toward the refrigerator. Dylan leaned closer.
“Is he always like this?”
“Yes.”
“Protective.”
“Jealous.”
Dylan looked toward Elliot. Ronan immediately regretted the word.
“Jealous of what?”
“Everything.”
“That's normal.”
“No.”
Dylan smiled faintly.
“So he's jealous of me.”
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.
“They found his jacket.”
Ronan's stomach dropped.
“Where?”
Dylan swallowed.
“Saint Augustine's.”
The room changed. Ronan felt it. The same park. Mason's park. Behind him, a chair scraped softly against hardwood. Elliot stood. Dylan looked toward him.
“They found Lucas's jacket near where Mason died.”
Nobody spoke. Rain began again outside. Small droplets at first. Then harder. Ronan looked at Elliot. His face had gone completely still. For once, Ronan couldn't tell what he was thinking. Not remotely. And for reasons Ronan could not explain, that frightened him more than the phone call.