Chapter Ten — Ask Ronan #3
Ronan lowered his voice.
“She asked about jealousy.”
Elliot didn't move.
“She asked whether you threatened Dylan.”
That did it. Recognition. Then understanding. Ronan watched the blood drain slightly from his face.
“You told her.”
“I had to.”
“You didn't have to tell her anything.”
“I wasn't going to lie to police about something stupid and make it look worse later.”
Elliot laughed once. Cold.
“Something stupid.”
“That's not what I meant.”
“You told a homicide detective I threatened one of the people connected to both victims.”
“He isn't a victim.”
Silence. Ronan heard it the second he said it. Dylan was alive. Elliot stared.
“Interesting.”
“Fuck you.”
Ronan rubbed his face.
“I'm sorry.”
Elliot looked away.
“She asked whether I thought you could kill someone.”
Nothing moved. Ronan watched him. For one moment, the entire world seemed to reduce itself to Elliot standing beneath the amber light over the kitchen island.
“What did you say?”
His voice was quiet. Ronan didn't hesitate.
“No.”
Elliot looked at him.
“She asked whether I was sure.”
“And?”
“I said I know you.”
Something changed. Small. Deep. The anger loosened. Elliot's shoulders lowered. Ronan stepped closer.
“You're fucking insane sometimes.”
Elliot smiled faintly.
“Sometimes?”
“You're jealous. Possessive. You say shit that would get anyone else institutionalized.”
“Romantic.”
“But you're not a murderer.”
Silence. Elliot's eyes remained on his. Ronan touched his jaw. Warm skin beneath his palm.
“You hear me?”
“Yes.”
“You're not whatever they're trying to turn this into.”
Elliot swallowed. For once, he looked almost vulnerable. Ronan hated that it made his chest ache.
“Ronan.”
“What?”
“If I was…”
He stopped. Ronan frowned.
“If you were what?”
Elliot looked away.
“Nothing.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Forget it.”
“No.”
Ronan caught the back of his neck.
“Finish.”
Elliot looked at him. Something unreadable sat behind his eyes.
“If I was worse than you thought I was.”
Ronan's thumb moved once against his skin.
“What does that mean?”
“Just answer.”
The question felt strange. Too heavy for what it supposedly was. Ronan looked at him. Jealous. Cruel sometimes. Manipulative when frightened. Possessive to the point of absurdity. Ronan already knew all that. He'd stayed.
“Then I'd deal with it.”
Elliot's expression didn't change.
“What if you couldn't?”
“Then we'd figure it out.”
“Together?”
Ronan stared.
“Obviously.”
There. Elliot breathed out. Not dramatically. Almost imperceptibly. But Ronan felt it beneath his hand. Ronan smiled faintly.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“You planning on revealing you're secretly running a cult?” Elliot laughed. Real. The tension broke. “Maybe.”
“I fucking knew it.”
“You'd join.”
“No.”
“You would.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You'd look good in robes.”
Ronan laughed. Elliot leaned into him. Their foreheads touched briefly. Nothing more. The closeness was enough. For now. “You believe me?” Elliot asked. Ronan's smile faded. “Yes.”
“Completely?” Ronan looked into his eyes.
“Completely.” The answer was true when he said it. That was what would hurt later. At 7:26 P.M., Dylan called. Ronan answered from the couch. Elliot was beside him reading. Or pretending to.
“What?”
Dylan's breathing came through the line.
“Cops searched my car.”
Ronan sat upright.
“When?”
“Hour ago.”
“Find anything?”
“I don't know.”
Elliot looked over. Ronan stood and walked toward the kitchen.
“What happened?”
“They took a jacket.”
Ronan stopped.
“What jacket?”
“My black one.”
“Why?”
“They said they found fibers.”
Cold moved through his stomach.
“What kind?”
“I don't fucking know.” Ronan turned. Elliot sat perfectly still on the couch. Watching him. “Dylan.”
“I didn't do anything.”
“I know.”
“I swear.”
“I know.”
“They think I killed them.”
“You don't know that.”
“They took my fucking clothes.”
Ronan rubbed his forehead.
“We'll figure it out.”
“Who's we?”
“Me.”
Silence. Elliot's eyes narrowed. Dylan exhaled.
“You're a good friend.” The sentence landed badly. Ronan looked at Elliot. His expression had gone blank. Not angry. Worse. “Call your lawyer,” Ronan said. “I did.”
“Listen to them.”
“Okay.” Ronan ended the call. Silence filled the room. Elliot turned a page. Ronan stared.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Don't.”
Elliot continued reading. Ronan crossed the room.
“Elliot.”
“What?”
“You heard.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Say it.”
Elliot closed the book.
“You're a good friend.” There was enough venom in the sentence to kill vegetation. Ronan laughed.
“You're unbelievable.”
“He's right.”
“What?”
“You are.”
Elliot smiled sweetly.
“Always willing to save him.”
“Don't start.”
“I didn't.”
“You're starting.”
Elliot opened the book again. Ronan sat beside him.
“Jealousy looks terrible on you.”
“Two chapters ago you said it looked good.”
Ronan paused. Then laughed so hard Elliot finally smiled too. Neither noticed the car parked half a block away. Dark sedan. Engine off. Someone sat inside. Watching the carriage-house windows. And at 8:02 P.M., Detective Mara Vance wrote Ronan Vale's name on a fresh page in her notebook.