Chapter Thirty-Eight — After the Monster
AFTER THE MONSTER
Ronan had expected catching Saint to feel bigger.
Louder. Cleaner. Something. Instead Friday afternoon looked offensively normal.
Traffic moved past the courthouse. People carried coffee.
A woman in heels yelled into her phone near the crosswalk.
Someone had parked badly enough to occupy half a handicapped space.
The world had not changed because Adrian Cross was finally in custody.
Maybe that was the lesson. Monsters went to jail.
Coffee still got cold. Ronan stood on the courthouse steps beside Gregory Bell and stared at the folder in Bell’s hand.
“Say it again.” Bell looked tired. “I’ve said it three times.
” “Four.” “Elliot has been formally charged.” Ronan’s chest tightened.
There. Still. No matter how many times he heard it.
Five counts. Five deaths. Five names. Murder did not become less real because Saint had also killed people. Ronan knew that. He hated it.
“What degree?” “Prosecutors are still differentiating counts based on available evidence.”
“Meaning?” “Some may be charged as first-degree. Others may not.” Ronan looked away. “Great.” “That was not good news.” “I know.” Bell closed the folder. “Adrian’s arrest changes parts of the investigation.” “How much?”
“Enough.” “Helpful.” “Elliot’s defense will argue Saint’s manipulation is relevant to context, particularly around escalation and psychological coercion.”
Ronan looked at him. “But.” “But Elliot admitted he chose the victims.” There. Responsibility. Again. “And killed them himself.” “Yes.” Ronan nodded. He preferred the truth now. Hated it. Still preferred it.
“What about Tyler?” Bell’s expression softened slightly. “That one is complicated.” Ronan knew. Tyler drugged Elliot. Elliot later discovered Tyler had done it to others. Then killed him.
“It doesn’t make what Elliot did legal,” Bell continued. “I know.” “But it may matter significantly to how the state and eventually a court view the circumstances.”
Ronan swallowed. “And Saint?” “Six confirmed homicides under investigation.” “Six.” “Yes.” Daniel. Mara. Isaac. Lena. Federal officer. Security contractor. Six. Ronan refused to count them against Elliot’s five. Bodies weren’t a scoreboard. He had told Elliot that. Needed to remember it himself.
“Nathan?” “Separate charges. Kidnapping. Assault. Conspiracy. Surveillance-related offenses. Possibly more.”
“Dylan?” “Recovering.” “Claire?” “Recovering.” “Mom?” “Very loudly recovering.” Ronan almost smiled. Rebecca had spent the morning alternating between crying, swearing at Thomas, demanding
updates from Bell, and asking whether Elliot had eaten. Complicated. Everything was complicated now. Bell looked at him.
“She knows.” Ronan’s smile disappeared. “What?” “Rebecca.” His stomach dropped.
“Everything?” “Enough.” “When?” “Elliot requested that I tell her before arraignment.” Ronan stared.
Of course he did. “Why didn’t he tell me?
” “Because he knew you’d try to manage it.
” Ronan almost laughed. “Fair.” Bell continued.
“She knows the five names.” Fuck. “How did she react?” Bell was quiet for a second.
“Like a mother.” That answer meant nothing.
And everything. Ronan looked toward the courthouse doors.
“Is she inside?” “Yes.” “Thomas?” “Yes.” “Does she hate him?” Bell’s expression changed. “No.” Immediate. Ronan exhaled. Too fast. Bell noticed. “She is devastated.” “Yeah.” “Angry.” “Yeah.” “Confused.” “Yeah.” “But no.” Ronan looked down. “She doesn’t hate him.” “No.”
Something loosened. Not much. Enough. Bell studied him.
“You’re asking for Elliot.” “Yes.” “Not yourself.” “What?” “Rebecca finding out changes your relationship too.” Ronan almost rolled his eyes.
“Not today.” “Eventually.” “Eventually can wait.” Bell looked toward the courthouse.
“Elliot says that too.” Ronan frowned. “What?” “About himself.” Of course.
Everyone else first. Then him. Maybe. Ronan hated that pattern now that he recognized it.
“What did he say?” Bell sighed. “I am not your relationship courier.” “Yet you keep delivering.” “I regret accepting this case.” Ronan smiled faintly.
Bell looked annoyed. Then relented. “He asked whether you were still coming.” Ronan’s chest tightened.
“To arraignment?” “Yes.” “Obviously.” “I told him that.” “What did he say?” “Okay.” Ronan almost laughed.
That word. Again. Trust inside it now. Good. He looked toward the doors.
“Let’s go.”
The courtroom was smaller than Ronan expected.
That made everything worse. Rebecca sat in the second row beside Thomas.
Claire was there too. Ronan stopped when he saw her.
She looked pale. Tired. Alive. Good. She saw him.
For several seconds, neither moved. Then Claire stood.
Ronan had no idea what she knew. Enough probably. Maybe too much. She walked toward him.
Ronan braced. Claire hugged him. Hard. He froze. Then hugged back.
“You okay?” She laughed against his shoulder.
“No.” “Same.” She released him. Her eyes were red.
“Where is he?” “Coming.” Claire looked toward the courtroom door.
Then back. “I want to punch him.” “Take a number.” “I also want to hug him.” Ronan nodded.
“Same number.” That made her laugh. Small.
Broken. Good. Then her expression changed.
“He killed Mason.” “Yes.” “Lucas.” “Yes.” Claire swallowed. “Tyler.” Ronan looked at her. “You knew Tyler?” “Everyone knew Tyler.” Right. Bellweather. Smaller than people pretended. Claire’s eyes filled.
“I knew he was fucked up.” Ronan said nothing. “That doesn’t mean…” “I know.” She looked away. “I don’t know how to feel.” “Neither do I.” “You still love him.” Not a question. “Yes.” Claire stared. Ronan waited for judgment. It came. Just not the way he expected.
“That’s fucked.” “Yes.”
“But I get it.” Ronan blinked. “What?” “I don’t approve.
” “Good.” “I’m serious.” “So am I.” Claire’s expression softened.
“He loved you before he knew how to say it.” Ronan’s chest tightened.
“He told you?” “Constantly.” Ronan frowned.
“What?” “Not directly.” Claire almost smiled.
“But every conversation eventually became about you.” That sounded like Elliot.
Unfortunately. “Did you know about Saint?” “No.” “The murders?” “God, no.” Ronan nodded.
Of course. Claire looked toward Rebecca.
“She’s not okay.” “I know.” “Go sit.” Ronan did.
Rebecca looked up when he approached. No greeting.
She grabbed his hand. Hard. Ronan sat beside her.
Thomas looked like he had aged ten years overnight.
“Hey.” Thomas nodded. Rebecca didn’t let go. “You knew.” There. Ronan’s stomach tightened. “Yes.” “How long?” “Not long.” “How long?” “Two days before he confessed.” Rebecca closed her eyes. Ronan continued quickly. “I didn’t know during the murders.” “I know.” “He told me.”
“I know.” “I lied to police after.” Her grip tightened. Thomas looked over sharply. Rebecca already knew apparently.
“Why?” Ronan looked down. Because Elliot was terrified. Because Ronan loved him. Because five bodies were suddenly less real than the possibility of losing one person. Because Saint wanted exactly that. None felt sufficient.
“I loved him.” Rebecca’s face broke slightly. “That isn’t an answer.” “It’s the only one I have.” Silence. Then: “You could have gotten yourself arrested.” “I know.” “You may still.” “I know.” “Stop sounding like him.” Ronan almost laughed. Wrong moment. Rebecca noticed anyway.
“Not funny.” “No.” Her eyes filled. “I have one son accused of five murders and another lying to homicide detectives.”
Ronan froze. Son. Another. Rebecca realized what she said. Too late. Neither corrected it. Thomas looked away. Ronan swallowed.
“I’m sorry.” Rebecca shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with any of this.
” “Neither do I.” “That is not comforting.” “No.” She finally released his hand.
Then immediately grabbed it again. Ronan understood.
She needed the contact. So did he. The side door opened.
Everything stopped. Elliot entered. Gray detention clothes.
Cuffs. Two officers. Ronan forgot the room.
Elliot’s eyes moved across the benches. Rebecca.
Thomas. Claire. Then him. There. Immediate.
Relief. Ronan gave the smallest nod. Still here.
Elliot’s shoulders loosened. Rebecca made a sound beside
him. Not quite a sob. Elliot heard. His face changed.
For one second Ronan thought he might break.
He didn’t. He looked at his mother. Rebecca stared.
No golden boy. No perfect son. No lie left.
Just Elliot. Her mouth trembled. Then she mouthed: I love you.
Elliot stopped. His eyes filled. Ronan’s chest hurt.
He watched Elliot mouth back: I’m sorry.
Rebecca shook her head. Not rejecting the apology.
Maybe telling him not now. The officers seated Elliot beside Bell.
The hearing began. Ronan understood perhaps thirty percent.
Charges. Custody. Evidence. Risk. Saint’s influence.
Elliot’s confession. The prosecution argued remand.
Bell argued protective detention and psychological evaluation while the broader Cross investigation continued.
The judge asked questions. Elliot answered when told.
No manipulation. No performance. Ronan noticed.
Of course. Eventually the ruling came. Continued detention.
No bail. Ronan expected it. Still felt like a door slamming.
Elliot didn’t react visibly. Ronan did enough for both.
Then the judge scheduled another hearing.
Weeks away. Weeks. Fuck. Court adjourned.
The officers stood. Elliot turned. Looked toward Ronan.