Chapter Seventeen — Where Were You? #2
The line ended. Ronan stood with the phone against his ear.
Dylan had asked about him and Elliot. Lucas had allegedly said Elliot scared him.
Someone had sent Elliot photographs of Dylan.
Someone had sent Ronan a message about Mason screaming.
Someone had left Elliot’s box on their porch.
Someone had left Ronan’s name on Dylan’s door.
Now Dylan was missing. Ronan looked toward the stairs.
Every road kept returning to Elliot. He hated himself for noticing.
But hating a thought did not make it disappear.
At 7:11, Detective Vance called. Ronan answered immediately.
“Did you find him?”
“No.”
His stomach dropped.
“What did you find?”
“Dylan’s phone was placed near the eastern entrance to Saint Augustine’s.”
“Placed?”
“Yes.”
“Not dropped?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“What else?”
“Nothing I can discuss.”
Ronan laughed angrily.
“Of course.”
“Ronan.”
“What?”
“Did Dylan ever tell you he thought someone was watching his apartment?”
His stomach tightened.
“His mom just did.”
Pause.
“Lisa called you?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Ronan repeated it. The car. The figure outside. Dylan’s question about Elliot. Vance went quiet. That last part mattered. Ronan knew immediately.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Fuck you.”
Vance ignored it.
“Did Dylan ever express concern about Elliot directly to you?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“No.”
“Did
he
ever
suggest
Elliot’s
jealousy
made
him uncomfortable?”
Ronan thought. Dylan joking. Stepbrother gonna murder me? Your brother is being nice to me. Should I be scared? Jokes. Always jokes. At the time.
“Maybe.”
Vance’s voice sharpened.
“Explain.”
“He joked about Elliot hating him.”
“Specific language?” Ronan closed his eyes.
“He said Elliot might murder him.” Silence.
Fuck. “Context?” “Joking.” “About what?” “Coming to our place.” “Before or after Mason died?” “After.” Another silence.
Ronan heard typing. “Anything else?” “Not that I remember.” “Think.” “I am fucking thinking.” “Good.” He rubbed his forehead.
“Did you find anything connecting Dylan to the park besides the phone?” “No.” “What about his jacket?” “What jacket?” The question slipped out.
Vance went quiet. Ronan’s stomach tightened.
“What jacket?” “Ronan.” “No. You just said jacket.” “I didn’t.
” “You absolutely—” “I said no.” He stopped.
Had he misheard? No. Maybe. His nerves were shot.
Vance continued. “Stay home tonight.” “Why?” “Because the person doing this is escalating.” “What makes you say that?” “Two murders. One missing person. Messages. Physical surveillance. Trespass.” Ronan stared at the closed blinds.
“Do you think Dylan is alive?” Vance went quiet. Too long. “Detective.” “I don’t know.”
At least she said it. Ronan swallowed.
“Call me.”
“If there’s something to call about.”
The line ended. He stared at the screen.
Then another notification appeared. Elliot’s location.
No. Not a notification. Ronan had opened the app without realizing it.
The blue dot sat inside the carriage house.
Second floor. As if the phone could know that precisely.
Home. Ronan looked at it. Then closed the app immediately.
“What the fuck am I doing?”
He threw the phone onto the couch. At 7:36, Elliot came downstairs. Ronan heard him before he saw him. Slow footsteps. Then Elliot appeared at the bottom wearing black sweatpants and one of Ronan’s old Merrick hoodies. Ronan noticed immediately.
“That's mine.”
Elliot looked down.
“I know.”
“You stole it.”
“You left it in my room.”
“Three months ago.”
“Abandonment.”
Ronan almost smiled. Almost. Elliot walked into the kitchen. Opened the refrigerator. Closed it. Opened a cabinet. Closed that too. Ronan watched.
“Hungry?”
“No.”
“You've opened half the kitchen.”
“I’m looking.”
“For?”
“I don’t know.”
Ronan nodded. Fair. Elliot finally pulled out crackers. He sat at the island. For several minutes, neither spoke. Ronan hated the distance. He hated himself more for creating it.
“Dylan’s mom called.”
Elliot looked up.
“What did she say?”
“That Dylan thought someone was watching his apartment.”
His expression tightened.
“Same person?”
“Maybe.” Elliot ate one cracker. Slowly.
“He asked her about us.” His hand stopped.
There. Tiny. Ronan noticed. “What did he ask?” “If we'd always been close.” Elliot resumed chewing.
“Why?” “I don't know.” “Did she?” “Did she what?” “Know?” “No.” Ronan watched him. Elliot stared at the crackers. “Did Dylan ever say anything to you?” “No.” “About us?” “No.” “About being scared?” “No.” “About Lucas?” Elliot looked up. Ronan could feel the conversation changing. Again. “No.” “About Mason?” “No.” “About—” “Stop.” Ronan closed his mouth. Elliot pushed the crackers away. “This is exactly what I meant.” “What?” “You don't talk to me anymore. You investigate me.” “That’s not fair.” “Isn’t it?” “No.” “Then ask me something that isn't about a murder.” Ronan stared. The challenge caught him off guard. “Okay.” Elliot waited. Ronan’s mind went completely fucking blank.
That was humiliating. Elliot laughed softly.
“There.” “No, fuck you. Give me a second.” He thought. School. Dinner. Their mother. Anything.
“What’d you get on your Adler paper?”
Elliot blinked. Then smiled.
“An A.”
“Of course.”
“Ninety-seven.”
“What’d you lose three points for?”
“Citation formatting.”
Ronan laughed.
“Idiot.”
“I used the wrong edition.”
“Still an idiot.”
Elliot’s smile widened. There. Normal. Ronan felt something loosen inside him.
“What else?” Elliot asked.
Ronan thought again.
“You still want to apply for Langley’s assistant position?”
“Maybe.”
“Why maybe?”
“I’m tired.”
“Of school?”
“Everything.”
That answer landed quietly. Ronan softened.
“What would you do instead?”
Elliot shrugged.
“Disappear.”
The word sat wrong. Ronan’s expression changed. Elliot immediately rolled his eyes.
“See?”
“Sorry.”
“I meant vacation.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere warm.”
“You hate beaches.”
“I hate sand.”
“That is beaches.”
“Hotels have pools.”