Chapter Thirteen — A Perfect Alibi
ELLIOT
Elliot knew exactly when Ronan stopped believing him completely.
It wasn't when Dylan sent the message. It wasn't when Ronan asked whether Lucas had ever been afraid of him.
It wasn't even when Elliot said no. It happened approximately three seconds later, when Ronan continued looking at him instead of accepting the answer.
That was new. Ronan had questioned him before.
Argued. Pushed. Demanded explanations. But beneath every fight there had always been something solid and unquestioned.
Trust. Not the delicate kind people constantly talked about rebuilding after betrayals.
Ronan's trust had always been heavier than that.
Structural. Something built into the architecture of their relationship so completely that neither of them seemed capable of imagining its absence.
Now Elliot could feel the first fracture.
Tiny. Almost invisible. Still there. Ronan remained at the opposite end of the couch with his phone in one hand. The message glowed between them.
DYLAN: said elliot scared him
Elliot stared at it. Ronan watched Elliot.
Neither spoke. The carriage house had become unusually quiet.
Rain had ended sometime during dinner, leaving water dripping rhythmically from the roof outside.
A clock ticked in the kitchen. The heating system clicked beneath the floorboards.
Elliot forced himself to breathe normally.
“What exactly did Lucas say?”
Ronan's eyes narrowed.
“You said he never told you he was afraid.”
“He didn't.”
“That wasn't what I asked.”
“I'm asking what he told Dylan.”
Ronan looked back at the phone.
“He hasn't answered yet.”
“Call him.”
Ronan stared.
“Why are you suddenly interested?”
“I've been interested for weeks. You've complained about it constantly.”
“That's not an answer.”
Elliot smiled faintly.
“Apparently we're doing interrogations again.”
Ronan didn't smile. That bothered him more than anger would have.
“Elliot.”
“What?”
“Did something happen between you and Lucas?”
“No.”
Too fast. He heard it himself. Fuck. Ronan heard it too. His expression changed.
“Think before you answer.”
Something hot moved through Elliot.
“I don't need to think.”
“Apparently you do.”
Elliot stood. Ronan's voice sharpened.
“Sit down.”
Elliot stopped. He looked over his shoulder. There was a time when that command would have meant something entirely different between them. Tonight it sounded like accusation.
“Don't.”
Ronan stood too.
“Then stop walking away.”
“I'm getting water.”
“You don't want water.”
“You know what I want now?”
“I know when you're avoiding me.”
Elliot laughed once.
“Congratulations.”
Ronan crossed the living room. Elliot didn't move.
“What happened with Lucas?”
“Nothing.”
“Dylan says Lucas was scared of you.”
“Dylan says a lot of things.”
“So he made it up?”
“I don't know.”
“Why would he?”
Elliot looked toward the windows. His own reflection looked back. Dark blond hair. Soft green sweater. Bare feet. Nothing remotely frightening.
“He hated me.”
“Lucas?”
“Yes.”
Ronan went still. There. The first piece. Not everything. Enough.
“Why?”
Elliot folded his arms.
“Because I embarrassed him.”
“When?”
“September.”
“How?”
Ronan waited. Elliot thought about the night.
Lucas outside Bellweather Tap with two friends.
A freshman standing several feet away pretending not to listen.
Lucas laughing about a video. Not Mason's.
Another one. Different kid. Same game. Elliot had intervened.
Not violently. Publicly. Which, for someone like Lucas, had been worse.
“He was talking shit about someone,” Elliot said.
“Who?”
“Doesn't matter.”
“Clearly it does.”
“A freshman.”
“The same one?”
“No.”
Ronan stared.
“How many fucking freshmen were these people terrorizing?”
Elliot almost smiled. That reaction helped. Good.
“Enough.”
“What'd you do?”
“Told him to stop.”
“And that scared him?”
“No.”
“What else?”
Elliot looked at Ronan. He could feel the shape of the truth. Dangerous. Tempting.
“I knew things.”
Ronan's expression tightened.
“What things?”
“About him.”
“How?”
“People talk to me.”
“Again. Specific.”
Elliot exhaled.
“Lucas had been sending videos around. Not just embarrassing stuff. Private stuff.”
Ronan's jaw hardened.
“What kind?”
“Sexual.”
That was true. Unfortunately.
“Of who?”
“I don't know everyone.”
“But you knew enough to confront him.”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
Elliot hesitated. Ronan caught it.
“What?”
“I told him if he didn't delete everything, I'd make sure people knew what he was doing.”
Ronan stared.
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It was.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“He deserved it.”
“That isn't the point.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, Elliot, the point is Lucas is dead and apparently told someone you fucking scared him.”
Elliot's anger flashed.
“So now I'm guilty because I told a piece of shit to stop distributing private videos?”
“I didn't say guilty.”
“You keep building the sentence and then pretending you didn't finish it.”
Ronan's face hardened.
“Because you keep hiding shit.”
Silence. There. The fracture widened. Elliot looked away. Ronan lowered his voice.
“Did you threaten Mason?”
“No.”
“Did you threaten Lucas beyond what you just told me?”
“No.”
“Did you follow him?”
“No.”
“Did you meet him after?”
“No.”
“Did he contact you?”
Elliot paused. Wrong. Ronan saw it.
“Fuck.”
Elliot closed his eyes briefly.
“One time.”
“When?”
“After.”
“After you threatened him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me to mind my own business.”
“That it?”
“Yes.”
Ronan held his gaze. Elliot waited. Then Ronan looked away. He believed that part. Good.
“He was scared because you knew what he was doing,” Ronan said.
“Probably.”
“That would've been nice to know before Dylan dropped it on me.”
“I forgot.”
Ronan laughed without humor.
“No, you didn't.”
Elliot said nothing. Because that lie wouldn't survive. Ronan looked at him again.
“You decided it wasn't important.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it wasn't.”
“To you.”
“Yes.”
“That is the fucking problem.”
Elliot's jaw tightened. Ronan paced once toward the kitchen and back. He was angry now. Actually angry. Better than suspicious. Anger had shape. Suspicion leaked into everything.
“You don't get to decide what matters when police are investigating two murders.”
Elliot laughed softly.
“They haven't arrested me.”
“Not yet.”
The words hit harder than Ronan intended. Elliot went still. Ronan stopped.
“Fuck. I didn't mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
“No.”
“You keep saying things you mean and apologizing afterward.”
Ronan's face twisted.
“Because I'm scared.”
That stopped him. Elliot looked up. Ronan continued before he could answer.
“I'm fucking scared, okay?”
His voice wasn't loud. That made it worse.
“I don't know what these cops know. I don't know what Dylan knows. Every other day somebody tells me some new thing about you or Mason or Lucas, and somehow you're always standing there acting like you already knew.”
Elliot's chest tightened.
“I don't.”
“Then why does it feel like you do?”
Because I do. The answer sat behind Elliot's teeth. He swallowed it. Ronan rubbed both hands over his face.
“I don't think you killed them.”
Not as certain as before. Elliot heard the difference.
“But?”
Ronan looked at him.
“I think you're hiding something that could get you fucked.”
Close enough.
“What if I'm trying to protect someone?”
Ronan froze. Elliot immediately knew he'd pushed too far.
“Who?”
“Hypothetically.”
“No. Fuck hypothetically.”
Elliot almost smiled. Ronan stepped closer.
“Who are you protecting?”
“Maybe the people Mason and Lucas hurt.”
“That isn't your job.”
“They don't trust police.”
“That also isn't your job.”
Elliot looked away. Ronan caught his jaw. Not rough. Firm. Elliot's pulse jumped.
“Look at me.”
He did.
“If you know something that keeps you out of this, you tell Vance tomorrow.”
“No.”
Ronan's expression hardened.
“Elliot.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she doesn't care who gets hurt as long as she gets an answer.”
“That is literally her job.”
“No. Her job is getting the right answer.”
“And you know better?”
Elliot smiled faintly.
“Sometimes.”
Ronan stared.
“You're unbelievable.”
“So I've heard.”
Ronan released him. The distance returned. Elliot hated it immediately.
“Fine,” Ronan said.
“What?”
“You don't tell her, I do.”
Everything inside Elliot went cold.
“You wouldn't.”
“Try me.”
“You don't know anything.”
“I know Lucas was afraid of you because you threatened to expose him for distributing private videos. I know you met someone connected to Mason. I know there are other people who might have motive.”
“You promised you'd let me handle it.”
“No, I didn't.”
Elliot stared. Ronan was right. That irritated him more.
“You'd tell her.”
“Yes.”
“Even if I asked you not to.”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation. Elliot's chest tightened. Not because of Vance. Because Ronan had chosen something over him. Reason. Law. Safety. Whatever he wanted to call it. The distinction didn't matter.
“Fine.”
Ronan blinked.
“What?”
“I'll tell her.”
Suspicion appeared immediately.
“That easy?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because you're going to do it anyway.”
Ronan's face softened.
“I don't want to go against you.”
“You just said you would.”
“If it keeps you safe.”
Elliot looked away. There was the problem with Ronan.
He could make betrayal sound like devotion.
Worse, sometimes Elliot believed him. Detective Vance answered on the third ring.
Elliot called from the kitchen at 11:17 P.M. Ronan sat across from him.
Watching. Again. Elliot put the phone on speaker deliberately.
A small concession. Vance's voice came through.
“Detective Vance.”
“It's Elliot Mercer.”
Pause.
“Mr. Mercer.”
“Sorry it's late.”
“It isn't.”
Of course it wasn't. People investigating murders apparently didn't sleep.
“I remembered something about Lucas.”
Ronan's eyebrows lifted slightly. Elliot ignored him.
“What?”
“I had an argument with him in September.”
Silence. Then:
“About?”
“He had private videos of people.”
“What kind of private?”