Chapter Twenty-Seven — Who Was There? #2
Ronan laughed softly.
“That is so fucking you.”
“I know.”
This time Ronan smiled. Barely.
“Allowed.”
Elliot’s mouth twitched. Then the storage-room phone vibrated. Both froze. No. Absolutely not. Ronan looked toward the door beneath the stairs. Elliot did too. Another vibration. Ronan held up one hand.
“Police.”
“No.”
“Elliot.”
“We need to see it first.”
“Why?”
“Because if Saint thinks we’re already handing everything to Vance, they stop talking.”
“That sounds good.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re the only person who can explain what happened with Nathan.”
“Police have Nathan.”
“Saint was manipulating Nathan too.”
Ronan hated that Elliot had a point.
“We photograph the screen. No touching the phone.”
“Fine.”
“Then call Vance.”
Elliot hesitated. Ronan stared.
“Promise.”
That word again. Elliot sighed.
“Fine.”
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
Ronan nodded. They crossed the kitchen. Elliot opened the storage-room door. The phone glowed beneath the mask. New message.
THAT TOOK LONG ENOUGH.
Ronan’s jaw tightened. Another.
HE ALWAYS WAS TOO ASHAMED OF NEEDING ME.
Elliot went still. Ronan glanced at him. Saint continued. YOU’RE DIFFERENT. Then:
YOU LIKE BEING NEEDED.
Ronan stared at the words.
“No shit.”
Elliot almost laughed. The phone vibrated. THAT’S WHY YOU’LL BE BETTER FOR HIM. Ronan’s amusement died. He pulled out the temporary phone Thomas had given him that morning and photographed the screen. Elliot watched. Another message.
NATHAN WANTED TO BE HIM.
Another.
YOU ONLY WANT HIM.
Ronan felt Elliot move beside him. Closer.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You’re enjoying that.”
“No.”
“Liar.”
A tiny smile. Fuck. Saint had understood exactly how to hook Elliot. Now apparently they were trying Ronan. Another message.
ASK ELLIOT WHAT I GAVE HIM AFTER TYLER.
Ronan looked over. Elliot’s smile vanished. There. Again.
“What did Saint give you?”
“Nothing.”
The phone immediately vibrated.
LIAR.
Ronan stared. Elliot went pale. Saint could hear them. Again. Maybe the phone itself. Ronan crouched and leaned toward the container.
“You’re listening?”
Immediate response.
ALWAYS.
Ronan looked at Elliot. His jaw had tightened. Ronan typed into his temporary phone first, then stopped. No. If Saint could hear, no need.
“What did you give him?”
The response took several seconds. Then a photograph appeared. Ronan stopped breathing. A knife. Black handle. Short blade. Photographed against red fabric. Elliot’s entire body went still. Ronan slowly looked at him.
“What?”
Elliot stared at the image.
“I never used that.”
Ronan’s stomach dropped.
“But it was yours.”
“Yes.”
“Saint gave it to you.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After Tyler.”
“How?”
“It was left in my car.”
Cold moved through Ronan. Saint had physical access that early. Not just messages. Not just the alley.
“How did they know your car?”
“They'd been watching.” “Where is it?” “I threw it away.” Ronan stared. “You threw away a knife from your stalker.” “Yes.” “Where?” “Dumpster.” “Bellweather?” “Yes.” “Did you touch it?” “With gloves.” Of course. Ronan rubbed his face. “You never used it?” “No.” “Not once.” “No.” Ronan believed him. Saint’s phone vibrated.
HE KEPT THE NOTE. Elliot froze. Ronan slowly looked over.
“What note?” “No.” “What note?” “I threw that away too.” The phone: LIAR AGAIN.
Ronan’s stomach tightened. Elliot stared at the mask.
“Shut up.” Saint answered: MAKE ME. Ronan looked at Elliot.
That phrase. Their phrase. Not as private as they thought.
Elliot’s face transformed. Cold. Ronan saw the killer arrive behind his eyes.
He immediately grabbed Elliot’s wrist. “No.” Elliot looked at him.
“Promise.” For several seconds, Elliot said nothing.
Then his shoulders lowered. “Fine.” Ronan released him slowly.
“Where is the note?” Elliot swallowed. “Bedroom.” “Still?” “Yes.” “After all this?” “I didn’t think it mattered.
” Ronan laughed without humor. “Everything matters.” “I know.” They left the phone.
Ronan called Vance while following Elliot upstairs.
This time Elliot didn’t object. Progress.
Maybe. Vance answered. “What happened?” “Saint contacted us.” Pause.
“You interacted?” “Barely.” “Ronan.” “Save the lecture. They sent a picture of a knife.” “What knife?” “One they apparently gave Elliot after Tyler Ames died.” Silence.
Ronan heard Elliot stop walking ahead of him.
Vance’s voice changed. “Elliot?” He turned.
Elliot stared at the phone. “Yes.” “Is that true?” “Yes.” “When?” “February.” “Where is the knife?” “Gone.” “Where?” “Trash.” “Why did you never report this?” Elliot’s jaw tightened.
“I didn’t think—” Ronan almost laughed. He stopped.
Vance continued. “Anything else?” Ronan looked at Elliot.
The note. Elliot sighed. “A note.” “What note?” “I’m getting it. ”
“Do not touch it.”
“I’ve already touched it before.”
“Not now.”
They entered Elliot’s bedroom. Elliot crossed to the bookshelf. Not desk. Not drawer. Bookshelf. He pulled out an old copy of The Secret History. Ronan stared.
“You hid stalker evidence inside Donna Tartt?”
Elliot looked offended.
“It’s a good book.”
“Not the point.”
He opened the back cover. A folded piece of cream paper sat tucked behind it. Ronan’s stomach tightened. Elliot placed the book on the desk without touching the note.
“Found it.”
Vance said, “Leave it exactly where it is. I’m coming.” Call ended. Ronan stared at the folded paper.
“What did it say?”
Elliot looked away.
“You remember.”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me.”
Silence. Ronan waited. Elliot finally spoke.
“Good boys deserve rewards.”
Ronan’s stomach twisted.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
Of course.
“What else?”
Elliot looked at him. Then quietly:
“Bad boys deserve consequences.”
The room went still. Good boys. Bad boys.
Biting. Punishment. Saint had been building language around Elliot before Ronan ever used it intimately.
That realization made Ronan feel irrationally violated.
Not because the phrase belonged to Saint.
Because Saint had contaminated something Ronan thought was theirs. Elliot saw his face.
“What?”
“I hate this.”
“The note?”
“All of it.”
Ronan paced away from the desk.
“They were in your head before we even got together.”
Elliot frowned.
“Not like that.”
“No?”
“No.”
“They called you good boy.”
“Yes.”
“They knew about me.”
“Yes.”
“They knew what you wanted.”
“Yes.”
“And now they’re using the exact fucking language we use together.”
Elliot stared. Then understood. His face softened.
“Ronan.”
“No.”
He hated that he sounded jealous. Of Saint. A fucking anonymous stalker who groomed Elliot’s worst impulses. Embarrassing. Elliot stepped closer. Ronan didn’t stop him.
“They don’t have that.”
“What?”
“Us.”
Ronan laughed bitterly.
“They literally listened to us.”
“They heard it.”
Elliot stopped in front of him.
“That isn’t having it.”
Ronan looked at him. Elliot’s voice softened.
“You said that yourself.”
When? Then he remembered. Nobody knows what this is except us. Fuck. Ronan looked away. Elliot touched his fingers. Barely.
“Saint can know every word we’ve ever said.”
Ronan looked back.
“They still don’t know what they mean when you say them.”
Something in his chest loosened. Not enough. Some.
“You’re manipulative.”
“Yes.”
“At least you admit it.”
“I’m trying.”
Ronan let Elliot take his hand. No sex. No biting. Just fingers linked. The doorbell rang downstairs. Vance. Elliot’s grip tightened. Ronan felt it.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“We show her the note.”
“Yes.”
“We show her the Saint phone.”
Silence. Ronan stared. Elliot’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“And we tell her Nathan knew about Saint.”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
Elliot looked at the folded note. Then him.
“No.”
Ronan knew there were still secrets. Apparently there would always be secrets. But this one felt different. Not murder. Not another body. Something buried deeper. He squeezed Elliot’s hand.
“Okay.”
They went downstairs together. Vance spent thirty-two minutes photographing the note, bagging it, documenting the Saint phone, and looking increasingly pissed that two college students had apparently been maintaining their own parallel investigation inside a storage closet.
Nathan had not been told about the new contact.
Good. Saint continued sending messages until Vance placed the phone inside a shielded evidence container. The final one arrived at 10:41.
THERE GOES OUR PRIVACY.
Ronan stared. Vance looked at him.
“No response.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”