Chapter Nine — The First Body
ELLIOT
Lucas Harper's body surfaced just after sunrise.
Elliot learned about it while brushing his teeth.
His phone began vibrating against the bathroom counter hard enough to creep toward the edge, the screen flashing repeatedly through a thin coating of steam.
He ignored the first notification. Then the second.
By the fourth, he reached across the sink with his toothbrush still in his mouth and caught the phone before it fell.
Seven messages. Three from Claire. Two university alerts.
One from his mother. One from Ronan, despite Ronan sleeping approximately twenty feet away. Elliot looked at that one first.
RONAN: Wake up.
He stared at the message. Then another arrived.
RONAN: Now.
Elliot rinsed his mouth. The bathroom mirror had fogged around the edges, leaving only the center clear enough to show his reflection.
His hair was flattened on one side from sleep.
A faint crease from the pillow marked his cheek.
He looked tired. Normal. He unlocked the phone. Claire's messages waited.
CLAIRE: elliot
CLAIRE: they found lucas
Then, thirty seconds later:
CLAIRE: he's dead
Elliot read the final sentence twice. Not because he hadn't expected it.
Because there was something strange about seeing certainty arrive in six characters.
Dead. For twelve days, Bellweather had been allowed to imagine alternatives.
Lucas ran away. Lucas got scared. Lucas was hiding.
Lucas owed somebody money. Lucas was sleeping off a breakdown in a motel.
Lucas had disappeared intentionally because attention was the point.
People could tolerate almost any explanation if it preserved possibility.
Dead removed possibility. Elliot opened the university alert.
BELLWEATHER UNIVERSITY CAMPUS SAFETY
Bellweather Police have confirmed that a body recovered early Saturday morning from the Bellweather River has been identified as missing student Lucas Harper, age twenty-two.
Authorities are investigating the circumstances surrounding his death.
Students are asked to avoid the eastern river trail and surrounding access roads while law enforcement remains on scene.
The second alert had arrived four minutes later.
Bellweather University will provide additional counseling services throughout the weekend.
Students with information regarding Lucas Harper or Mason Kerr are urged to contact Bellweather Police.
Elliot lowered the phone. Water dripped from the faucet.
Somewhere outside the bathroom, a floorboard creaked.
Ronan was awake. Elliot stared into the mirror.
Lucas Harper. Twenty-two. Finance major.
Red hair. The kind of person who laughed too loudly when drunk and treated embarrassment like entertainment so long as someone else was experiencing it.
He'd been easy to dislike. Not as easy as Mason.
But easy. Elliot touched the edge of the sink.
His heartbeat was steady. That bothered him slightly.
Not because he wanted to be upset. Because he knew what reaction Ronan would expect.
Shock. Maybe fear. Concern. Something visible.
Elliot could provide those. Providing them wasn't difficult.
The irritating part was that Ronan had started noticing when Elliot provided anything at all.
The bathroom door opened without a knock.
Ronan stood there wearing black sweatpants and no shirt. His hair was a mess.
“Did you see?”
Elliot turned.
“Yeah.”
Ronan studied his face. There it was. Immediately. That new habit. Looking. Elliot hated it.
“Body came up near the south embankment,” Ronan said.
“How do you know?”
“News.”
“Already?”
“Apparently some runner saw it.”
Elliot set his phone down. Ronan remained in the doorway. For several seconds, neither spoke. Then Ronan said, “Fuck.” Elliot looked at him. Ronan rubbed both hands over his face.
“He's actually dead.”
“Yes.”
Ronan's eyes lowered. That was grief. Not deep grief. He hadn't known Lucas well enough. But enough. Enough to remember him alive. Enough to feel the absence become real. Elliot understood the concept. Understanding and experiencing were different things.
“You okay?” Elliot asked.
Ronan laughed once. Not because it was funny.
“You're asking me?”
“Yes.”
“I barely knew him.”
“You've been worried about him for two weeks.”
“Yeah.”
Ronan leaned against the doorframe. Something about him looked smaller this morning. Not physically. Ronan almost never looked physically small. But there was exhaustion in the way he stood.
“Dylan's gonna lose his shit.”
Elliot's jaw tightened. Of course. Lucas was dead and somehow Dylan remained the first person Ronan worried about. He immediately hated himself for noticing. Not enough to stop.
“Probably.”
Ronan looked up.
“You're doing it.”
Elliot's fingers curled against the countertop.
“Doing what?”
“That tone.”
“What tone?”
“The Dylan tone.”
Elliot smiled faintly.
“Someone died and you're still worried about my jealousy?”
“Apparently you are too.”
Elliot looked away. Ronan stepped inside. The bathroom wasn't large enough for both of them comfortably. Ronan's shoulder nearly touched the door as he moved past it.
“Hey.”
Elliot busied himself putting the toothpaste away.
“I'm fine.”
“I didn't ask if you're fine.”
“You were going to.”
“I was going to tell you not to start shit about Dylan today.”
Elliot stared.
“Wow.”
“That came out wrong.”
“No, I think it came out exactly how you meant it.”
“Elliot.”
He pushed past Ronan. Ronan caught his arm.
“Stop.”
“Let go.”
“No.”
Elliot looked down at Ronan's hand. Then up.
“Good morning.”
Ronan sighed.
“Don't be an asshole.”
“You opened with a lecture about your ex-hookup.”
“He isn't my ex anything.”
“Congratulations.”
“This is what I mean.”
Elliot laughed softly.
“What? That I dislike him?”
“That everything with him becomes territorial.”
“He slept with you.”
“Months ago.”
“He still wants you.”
“That isn't relevant right now.”
“It is to me.”
Ronan's grip loosened. His expression changed. Not anger. Concern. That was worse.
“Why?”
Elliot stared. He knew the answer. Because Dylan had touched Ronan.
Because Dylan looked at him like he remembered what Ronan's skin felt like.
Because Dylan had entered their home and sat at their table and accepted comfort from Ronan as though none of those things belonged to Elliot.
Because Ronan had told him he couldn't decide who remained in his life.
Because technically Ronan was right. Elliot hated technically.
“Because I love you.”
The sentence came out quietly. Ronan stopped. Elliot regretted it immediately. Not because it wasn't true. Because truths were more dangerous than lies when they escaped at the wrong moment. Ronan's face softened.
“Elliot.”
“What?”
“That isn't supposed to mean nobody else can exist.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Elliot smiled without humor.
“Apparently not.”
Ronan released his arm. For several seconds, the only sound was the bathroom exhaust fan humming above them. Then Ronan touched Elliot's cheek. Gentle. Too gentle. Elliot's irritation cracked.
“You're impossible,” Ronan murmured.
“So you've said.”
“And exhausting.”
“Also said.”
“And fucking insane.”
“Repeatedly.”
Ronan's thumb brushed beneath Elliot's eye.
“Still here.”
Elliot looked at him. There. That was the reassurance he wanted. Not promises about Dylan. Not rules. Just that. Still here. Elliot leaned briefly into Ronan's palm. Then his phone started vibrating again. The moment disappeared. Ronan glanced toward it.
“Probably Claire.”
Elliot checked. Detective Vance. Not a text. A call. His stomach tightened. Ronan saw the name. His expression changed instantly.
“Why is she calling you?”
“I don't know.”
“Answer.”
Elliot looked at him.
“Obviously.”
He accepted.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Mercer?”
Vance's voice was crisp despite the hour.
“Yes.”
“Detective Vance. I'm sorry to call this early.”
“It's fine.”
“I assume you've seen the university notification.”
“Yes.”
Ronan remained close enough to hear Elliot's side. His arms folded. Elliot disliked the audience.
“We've recovered Lucas Harper,” Vance said.
“I saw.”
“I'd like to speak with you again.”
Elliot closed his eyes briefly.
“Today?” “If possible.” “What time?” “Ten.” “I can be there.” A pause.
“There's something else.” Elliot opened his eyes.
“What?” “We'd like you to bring your vehicle.” The bathroom suddenly felt smaller.
Ronan's eyebrows drew together. Elliot kept his voice neutral.
“My car?” “Yes.” “Why?” “We're confirming vehicles belonging to several witnesses who attended the Halston Street party and who had contact with either Mr. Kerr or Mr. Harper.” That explanation was too broad.
Elliot knew it. Vance knew he knew it. “What are you looking for?” Another pause.
“I'd rather discuss it in person.” Elliot stared at his reflection.
“Okay.” “Ten o'clock.” “I'll be there.” He ended the call.
Ronan spoke immediately. “Absolutely fucking not.” Elliot put the phone down.
“What?” “You're not taking your car there without a lawyer.” “She said they're checking multiple vehicles.” “She also called you at seven in the morning.” “So?” “So this isn't normal witness shit anymore.” Elliot looked toward him.
“You were just complaining that I'm too calm.” “And now I'm compensating.” Despite himself, Elliot laughed.
Ronan did not. “I'm serious.” “I know.” “Call someone.”
“Who?”
“A lawyer.”
“I don't have one.”
“Our parents do.”
Elliot stared. Ronan was already reaching for his phone.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Do not call Mom.”
“I'm calling Dad.”
“That is worse.”
“Why?”
“Because he'll call Mom.”
“Good.”
“Ronan.”
“Your car is being examined in connection with two dead college students.”
“One dead.”