Chapter Twenty — Everything You Never Knew #2
Silence. “No.” There. The worst truth. Ronan’s face broke.
Not dramatically. Just enough. Elliot felt his own chest tear open with it.
“I wish I did.” Ronan stared. That answer landed differently.
Elliot continued. “I know I should.” His voice felt strange.
Too tight. “I know what you want me to feel.” “I don’t want you performing remorse.
” “I’m not.” “Then what?” “I don’t know.
” Ronan’s eyes remained on him. Elliot laughed weakly.
“Maybe that’s the human answer you wanted.
” Ronan didn’t smile. Neither did Elliot.
For a long moment, they simply stood there.
Then Ronan asked: “Were you going to kill Dylan tonight?” “No.” “Before someone took him?” “Yes.” Ronan’s face tightened.
“When?” Elliot looked down. “I don’t know.
” “Bullshit.” “Soon.” “Because of me.” “Yes.” Another silence.
Ronan looked sick again. Then something changed.
The second mask. The anonymous sender. Dylan’s abduction.
Elliot could see Ronan remembering all of it.
“Then whoever took Dylan knew.” Elliot’s attention sharpened.
“Yes.” “Knew you wanted him dead.” “Maybe.” “How?” “I don’t know.
” “Did you tell anyone?” “No.” “Claire?” “No.” “Anyone online?” “No.” “Did you write it?” “No.” “Search anything?” Elliot stared.
“No.” Ronan stepped closer. “Then they were watching you closely enough to know.” “Yes.” Cold moved through both of them.
The room felt smaller. Ronan looked toward the closed blinds.
“Were they watching before Mason?” “Yes.” “How do you know?” “The video.” Ronan nodded.
The footage of Mason before Elliot approached.
Someone had been there first. Watching. “Then they’ve been following you for weeks.
” “Longer.” Ronan looked at him. “What?” Elliot swallowed.
There was another truth. One he hadn’t told because it hadn’t seemed connected.
That phrase again. Everything eventually mattered.
“I got messages before Mason.” Ronan went completely still.
“What?” “Not like these.” “When?” “Months ago.” “What did they say?” Elliot looked toward the floor.
“Mostly nothing.” Ronan laughed bitterly.
“Try again.” “Pictures.” “Of what?” “Me.” The room changed. Ronan stared. “Pictures of you.” “Yes.”
“Where?”
“Campus. Outside the house. Sometimes with you.”
Ronan’s face drained.
“And you never fucking told me?”
“I thought it was some creep.”
“That is exactly when you tell someone.”
“I handled it.”
“Clearly.”
Elliot flinched. Ronan stepped closer.
“How many?”
“I don’t know. Ten maybe.”
“Still have them?”
“No.”
“You deleted them.”
“Yes.”
Ronan closed his eyes.
“Of course.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You never know until it matters.”
The sentence hurt because it was true. Elliot looked away. Ronan lowered his voice.
“What did the first message say?”
He remembered. Perfectly. A photograph of Elliot leaving Bellweather.
The caption beneath it: You’re prettier when nobody knows what you’re thinking.
Elliot had assumed admirer. Stalker. Someone trying to scare him.
He hadn’t responded. Another picture arrived a week later.
Then another. Eventually they stopped. Until Mason.
“It said I was prettier when nobody knew what I was thinking.”
Ronan’s expression changed.
“That’s not random.”
“I know now.”
“Anything about the murders?”
“No.”
“Anything about the mask?”
“No.”
“Anything about me?”
“Sometimes.”
Ronan’s jaw tightened.
“What?”
Elliot hesitated.
“Pictures.”
“Of us?”
“Yes.”
“Doing what?”
“Normal things.”
“Define normal.”
“Walking. Motorcycle. Coffee.”
“Inside the house?”
“No.”
“At least?”
“No.”
Ronan stared. Elliot saw the calculation. Someone watching from public spaces. Before the murders. Before the mask. Before everything.
“This person chose you,” Ronan said.
Elliot looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Before you killed Mason.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Ronan’s attention moved toward the storage room.
“Maybe they saw the earlier murders.”
Elliot’s pulse changed. The thought had occurred. He hated hearing Ronan say it.
“Maybe.”
“Could someone have followed you?”
“I was careful.”
Ronan laughed.
“Apparently not careful enough.”
Elliot looked away. Ronan immediately softened.
“Sorry.”
“Stop.”
“I know.”
For once Elliot didn’t correct him. A knock sounded at the door. Both froze. Not the bell. Three firm knocks. Police. Probably. Ronan looked through the curtain.
“Vance.”
Elliot’s stomach tightened. Ronan turned. The question sat between them. Mask. Storage room. Lie. What now? Elliot looked at the open storage door. Then at Ronan.
“You can still tell her.”
Ronan stared. The offer hurt to make. It needed to exist.
“I know.”
“If you want to.”
“I know.”
Elliot swallowed.
“I won’t stop you.”
Ronan’s face changed.
“Don’t make me the good person here.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“No.”
Elliot stepped closer.
“I’m giving you the choice.”
Ronan looked toward the door. Vance knocked again. Then back at Elliot. Five dead. One hidden mask. One second killer or stalker or whatever the fuck was happening. A choice. Ronan exhaled.
“Close the storage room.”
Elliot froze.
“What?”
“Close it.”
Hope hit too quickly. Elliot hated himself for it. He moved. Closed the container. Moved the boxes back. Turned off the light. Shut the door. When he returned, Ronan was unlocking the front door. Vance entered. Her eyes moved between them immediately.
“You both look terrible.”
Ronan laughed.
“Thanks.”
Vance held up an evidence bag. Inside was a small fragment of white material. Porcelain. Elliot’s heartbeat changed.
“The North Ridge mask is synthetic resin,” she said. “Not porcelain.”
Ronan looked at Elliot. There. Confirmation. Copy. Vance continued.
“Whoever made it copied the appearance closely, but not the material.”
Elliot stared.
“How closely?”
“Very.”
“Cracks?”
“Painted.”
“Mouth?”
“Replicated.”
“Cheek fracture?”
Vance stopped. Her eyes sharpened.
“What?”
Ronan looked at Elliot. Elliot realized his mistake. The Mason crack had happened during the murder. Only someone present would know exactly where it was. Security footage showed some of it. Maybe enough. Maybe not. Vance asked again.
“Why specifically the cheek fracture?”
Elliot forced himself to shrug.
“Pictures online.”
She watched him. Ronan stepped in.
“What else did you find?”
Vance’s attention moved away. Elliot breathed again.
“Dylan remembers part of the abduction.”
Ronan straightened.
“What?”
“He was taken outside his apartment.”
“By who?”
“Masked individual.”
Elliot’s stomach dropped.
“The copied mask?”
“Yes.”
“Voice?”
“Distorted.”
“Height?”
“Approximately six feet.”
Ronan exhaled. Not him. Not Elliot exactly either. Vance continued.
“Dylan says the person told him something.”
Ronan’s expression tightened.
“What?”
Vance looked directly at Elliot.
“He said, ‘You were never his type.’”
Silence. Elliot felt cold spread through him. Ronan stared.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Nobody answered. Because Elliot knew. Not fully. Enough. The person who took Dylan wasn’t trying to kill him. They were making a point. To Elliot. About Ronan. Possession answering possession. A rival obsession. Vance continued.
“Dylan also remembers another sentence.”
Elliot’s pulse pounded.
“What?”
“He said the masked person told him, ‘He’ll choose the monster he knows.’”
Ronan went completely still. Elliot forgot to breathe. Vance watched both of them.
“Does that mean anything to either of you?”
Ronan looked at Elliot. Elliot looked back.
Monster he knows. The phrase cut directly through everything.
Five bodies. One confession. Ronan’s lie to Vance.
The choice already made. Whoever was watching knew.
Not just the murders. Not just the mask.
They knew Ronan had chosen Elliot. Or believed he would. Elliot forced his face blank.
“No.”
Ronan hesitated. Only a fraction. Then:
“No.”
Vance stared. Elliot felt something dark and terrible bloom inside his chest. Ronan had lied again. Not because Elliot asked. Because he chose to. Vance looked between them. Then nodded slowly.
“I’ll be back tomorrow.”
She left. The door closed. Ronan locked it. Neither spoke. Elliot looked at him. Ronan looked at the floor. Then:
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Whatever you’re about to say.”
Elliot stepped closer.
“You lied again.”
Ronan laughed bitterly.
“I noticed.”
“Why?”
He looked up. This time there was no confusion. No I don’t know. Just exhaustion.
“Because if someone out there knows what you are, I’d rather figure out who the fuck they are before I hand you over.”
Elliot stared. Ronan continued.
“That is not forgiveness.”
“I know.”
“It is not approval.”
“I know.”
“I still don’t know whether I can look at you tomorrow and stay.”
That hurt. Elliot nodded anyway.
“Okay.”
“But tonight?”
Ronan looked toward the storage room. Then toward the dark windows.
“Tonight, we have a bigger problem.”
Elliot’s chest tightened.
“We.”
Ronan’s expression hardened.
“Don’t make me regret the pronoun.”
Elliot almost smiled. Almost.
“I won’t.”
Ronan stared.
“Another lie?”
Elliot looked at him. Then, for once, answered honestly.
“Probably.”
Ronan laughed. A real laugh. Brief. Disbelieving. Completely exhausted. Elliot smiled too. And somewhere beyond the closed blinds, something moved past the edge of the property without either of them seeing it.