Chapter Fourteen — Someone Is Watching #3
Ronan stared at the photograph. Someone had gone to Dylan's apartment. Someone knew Dylan knew Ronan. Someone wanted Ronan's name attached to that door. Elliot took the phone from his hand.
“Don't touch the envelope.”
“Dylan knows that.”
“Tell him anyway.”
Ronan typed. Another message appeared before he could send it.
DYLAN: there's something inside
Ronan's pulse jumped.
RONAN: DO NOT OPEN IT
The typing bubble appeared. Stopped. Returned. Then:
DYLAN: too late
A photograph loaded. Inside the envelope was a printed image.
Ronan recognized it immediately. Him. Standing outside Bellweather Police headquarters Saturday morning.
Elliot beside him. Except Elliot had been cut out.
The photograph showed only Ronan. Across the bottom, someone had written three words.
WRONG brOTHER, DETECTIVE. Neither of them spoke.
Ronan read it again. Wrong brother. His skin went cold.
Elliot's face had gone white. Ronan looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
“Elliot.”
“I don't.”
This time there was no calculation. No delay. No careful answer. Elliot looked genuinely frightened. Ronan took the phone back. Another message from Dylan.
DYLAN: what the fuck is this
Ronan didn't answer. He called Vance. She picked up immediately.
“What happened?”
Ronan stared at Elliot.
“Someone left something at Dylan's apartment.”
“What?”
“An envelope with my name on it.”
Silence. Then Vance's voice sharpened.
“Has anyone touched it?”
“Dylan opened it.”
“Tell him to put it down and move away from the door. Officers are three minutes out.”
Ronan looked at the photograph again.
“There's a picture inside.”
“Of what?”
“Me.”
Pause.
“Anything written on it?”
Ronan swallowed.
“Yes.”
“What?”
He looked at Elliot. Elliot stared back.
“Wrong brother, Detective.”
Silence. Long enough that Ronan checked whether the call had disconnected. Then Vance said, “Do not leave your house.” Ronan's grip tightened.
“Why?”
“Because whoever left that envelope knows we're looking at you.”
His stomach dropped.
“And?”
Another pause.
“Apparently they don't want us to.”
The call ended. Ronan lowered the phone. The carriage house felt impossibly quiet. Elliot stood beside him.
“Someone's trying to clear you.”
Ronan looked at him.
“No.”
“What?”
“They're trying to redirect her.”
“To who?”
Ronan stared. The answer existed between them before either said it. Wrong brother. There were only two brothers. Ronan looked at Elliot. Elliot understood.
“No.”
“That's what it says.”
“No.”
“Elliot.”
“No.”
Fear sharpened his voice. Ronan had almost never heard that sound from him.
“They're trying to point Vance at you.”
Elliot shook his head.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Why would someone do that?”
“I don't know.”
“Unless they know something.”
Ronan regretted the sentence immediately. Elliot went completely still. There. The fracture again. Trust. Suspicion. Fear. All three occupying the same space. Ronan stepped closer.
“That's not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No.”
“You said it.”
“Because I'm trying to understand.”
“And that's always where you end up.”
“Where?”
“Me.”
Elliot backed away. “Every road leads back to me eventually, right?”
“Stop.”
“The mask. Lucas. Mason. Dylan. Now this.”
“I said stop.”
“Maybe Vance was right.”
Ronan stared.
“About what?”
“Maybe you should be afraid of me.” The sentence came soft. Too soft. Ronan crossed the space between them before Elliot could move again. He caught his face between both hands. Elliot froze.
“Listen to me.”
His eyes met Ronan's.
“I am not afraid of you.”
“You should be.”
“No.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know you.” Elliot laughed, but his eyes had gone wet. Barely. Enough. Ronan's chest tightened.
“I know you,” he repeated.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it's true.”
“What if it isn't?” Ronan stared at him. For one second, he didn't know what to say. That second was enough. Elliot saw it. His face changed. Ronan felt him pull away before he physically moved.
“Elliot.”
“Don't.” He stepped back. Ronan let his hands fall.
The distance between them was less than three feet.
It felt enormous. Outside, somewhere beyond the closed blinds, a car passed along the road.
Both looked toward the sound. Ronan's phone vibrated again.
Unknown number. His pulse jumped. He opened it.
No photograph. One message. Ask your brother where he was when Mason screamed.
Ronan stopped breathing. Elliot saw his face.
“What?” Ronan didn't answer.
“Ronan.”
He looked at Elliot. Then slowly turned the phone around.
Elliot read the message. Every trace of color disappeared from his face.
Ronan watched him. Watched the fear. Watched the shock.
Watched something else beneath both that he couldn't identify.
For the first time since Mason Kerr died, Ronan didn't immediately tell himself Elliot couldn't have done it.
He simply stood there. Looking at his brother.
And wondering why someone else seemed so certain that he had.