Chapter Thirty-Five — Don’t Be Late
Chapter Thirty-Five — Don’t Be Late
DON’T BE LATE
Maybe some employee. Maybe Saint had simply built so many access points into their lives that Elliot would never know which eyes belonged to them. He stared at the lens.
clicked. Elliot stood too quickly. The officer opened the door. Not Ronan. Detective Vance. Disappointment hit hard enough that he immediately resented her for existing. She noticed.
“Oh.” Elliot sat. “What?” “Nothing.” Her mouth twitched.
“Apparently that word survives incarceration.” “Unfortunately.” Vance entered.
No folder. No notebook. That was new. “Why are you here?” “Good morning to you too.” “Ronan is supposed to be here.” “Yes.” Elliot stared.
She waited. His stomach tightened. “What happened?” “Nothing.” He glared.
Vance almost smiled. “He’s downstairs.” Relief arrived.
Immediate. Embarrassing. “Why isn’t he here?
” “Security.” Elliot’s body tightened again.
“What security?” “Saint.” Of course. Vance sat across from him.
“They contacted him this morning.” “When?” “On the drive.” “What did they say?” “Asked whether he was still coming.” Elliot’s jaw tightened.
“And?” “He didn’t respond.” Good. He liked that.
“He’s being screened again.” “For what?” “Tracking devices. Unauthorized electronics. Anything Saint could have planted.”
Elliot stared. “On Ronan.”
“Yes.” Anger moved through him. Not cold yet. Better. He breathed. Promise. No murder. Not relevant. Still. Vance watched.
“You’re learning.” “Don’t.” “What?” “Sound proud.” “Ronan said the same thing.” Elliot almost smiled.
Of course. “Why are you here instead of him?” “Because I wanted to speak with you before he comes in.” “About?” “Saint.” “No.” Vance blinked.
“What?” “You get the investigation after.” “After what?” “Visit.” She stared.
Elliot folded his arms. “I’m not spending the first ten minutes hearing about Saint.
” “You understand they are actively targeting both of you.” “Yes.” “And have access to this facility.” “Yes.” “And may be monitoring this conversation.” “Yes.” “Then why—” “Because Ronan promised he would come.” Vance stopped.
Elliot looked toward the door. “He came.” “Yes.” “That happens first.” Silence.
Vance studied him. Elliot hated that. Then she nodded.
“Fine.” He looked back. “Fine?” “Yes.” Suspicious. “What?” “Nothing.” “Fuck that word.”
Vance actually laughed. Small. “Apparently contagious.” Then the lock clicked again.
Elliot looked. Ronan. Everything else disappeared.
He wore jeans, black hoodie, and the expression of someone who had argued with at least three federal employees before being allowed into the room.
Probably accurate. His eyes found Elliot immediately.
There. That feeling. Relief answering relief.
Ronan entered. The officer closed the door. He looked toward Vance.
“You’re still here.” “Temporarily.” “Why?” “Work.” “Gross.” Vance stood.
“I’ll give you twenty minutes.” Elliot frowned.
“Thirty.” Ronan looked at him. Vance did too.
“Facility policy.” “County gave thirty.” “This isn’t county.
” “Then improve.” Ronan covered a laugh.
Vance stared. Elliot stared back. Finally:
“Twenty-five.” Elliot smiled faintly. Ronan looked impressed. Vance pointed at him.
“Do not encourage him.” “Too late.” She left. The door closed. Silence. Ronan stood on the opposite side of the table. Elliot stood too. No physical contact allowed. Again. He hated everything.
“You came.” Ronan’s expression softened. “Yeah.” “You were late.” Ronan checked the clock. “By two minutes.” “You said you never are.” “That text wasn’t for Saint.” “I know.”
Ronan stared. “How?” “Vance told me.” “Of course.” Elliot looked him over. No bruises beyond the older ones. No fresh blood. Good. Ronan caught it.
“I’m fine.” “Actually?” “Yes.” “Parents?” “Fine.” “Mom?” “Pissed that nobody will let her install the cameras herself.” Elliot smiled. “That sounds right.” “Dad has become a full-time security consultant despite knowing nothing about security.”
“Also right.” “Claire’s staying with her sister.” “Good.” “Dylan has two officers outside his room and hates them both.” “Also good.” Ronan sat. Elliot followed. Three feet again. Too far. Ronan looked tired. Really tired.
“You sleep?” “Some.” “Liar.” “Four hours.” “That’s not enough.” “You got arrested and became my mother.” “Someone has to.” Ronan smiled. Then his expression shifted. The room went quiet. Elliot knew. The real conversation.
“I told you I’d come.” “Yes.” “And I came.” “Yes.” “Do you believe me now?” Elliot stared. “What?” “When I say I’m still here.” His throat tightened.
“Yes.” Ronan watched. “Actually?” Elliot looked away.
“Mostly.” “Elliot.” “I’m trying.” Ronan leaned forward.
“So am I.” Silence. Elliot rubbed his thumb against the table.
“I thought maybe they wouldn’t let you.” “They almost didn’t.
” “Because of Saint.” “Yes.” His jaw tightened.
Ronan saw. “No.” “What?” “Don’t start planning how to fix that.
” “I wasn’t.” “Liar.” “Maybe.” Ronan smiled faintly.
“Better.” Then Elliot looked toward the camera.
Ronan followed. “They’re probably watching.
” “Yes.” “Saint.” “Maybe.” Elliot hated that word now.
Ronan continued. “Does it matter?” He looked back.
“What?” “If they watch.” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because this is ours.” Ronan’s expression softened.
“There it is.” “What?” “The thing you actually care about.” Elliot frowned. “Obviously.”
“No.” Ronan leaned closer. “You care about being watched when it touches us.” Elliot stared.
“Saint watched your murders.” “Yes.” “Messaged you.” “Yes.” “Followed you.” “Yes.” “You tolerated it.” “For a while.” “But the bedroom.” Elliot’s jaw tightened.
“The bite.” More. “The visit.” Enough. Ronan smiled faintly.
“You hate them seeing something that belongs to us.” “Yes.” Possession.
Again. He knew. Ronan did too. Then Ronan said: “Let them watch.” Elliot froze.
“What?” “Seriously.” “No.” “Why?” “Because fuck them.” “Exactly.” Ronan leaned back.
“They keep turning everything into proof they own some part of this.”
Elliot said nothing. “So stop treating their attention like power.” “That sounds annoyingly healthy.” “I know.” “Who are you?” “Trauma changed me.” Elliot laughed. Ronan smiled. Then softened. “If Saint watches me show up anyway, what do they learn?” Elliot stared. “That they can find you.”
“No.” “What?” “That I came.” Silence. Ronan continued. “They said don’t be late.” “Yes.” “I came because I told you I would.” Elliot felt his chest tighten. “Not because they told me to.” There. Choice. Again. Ronan touched the table. Not Elliot. Close.
“That belongs to us.” Elliot stared at his hand. Then moved his own forward. Their fingers stopped an inch apart. No touching. Camera. Officer. Rules. Ronan looked at the gap. Then him.
“Annoying.” “Yes.” “Tomorrow too.” Elliot froze.
“What?” “I already asked.” “For another visit?” “Yes.” Relief.
Again. Fuck. Ronan smiled. “You look like somebody gave you a puppy.” “Shut up.” “You do.” “I hate you.” “No, you don’t.
” Elliot looked down. “No.” Ronan’s expression changed.
Soft. Dangerous in a different way. “You still my boyfriend?” Elliot looked up sharply.
Ronan smiled. “You started it.” “Yes.” “So?” Elliot felt ridiculous.
Twenty-one. Detention. Five confessed murders.
And somehow the question made him nervous.
“Yes.” Ronan nodded. “Good.”
Elliot stared. Ronan caught himself. “Allowed?” A tiny smile.
“Yes.” They sat quietly for several seconds.
Then Elliot asked: “Did you talk to Caleb?” Ronan’s face changed.
There. He had. Fuck. “When?” “This morning.” Elliot’s jaw tightened.
“You said—” “I said not yesterday.” “That’s bullshit.
” “I know.” “Ronan.” “Listen.” “No.” “Elliot.” “You went after I asked you not to.” “Yes.” “Without telling me.” “Yes.” “And Saint knows.” “Probably.” Elliot’s pulse sharpened.
Ronan leaned forward. “I had Vance.” “Saint has beaten Vance repeatedly.” “I had federal officers too.” “Saint is inside federal detention.” “Potentially digitally.” “That’s not better.
” Ronan held his gaze. “I chose to go.” Elliot stopped.
There. The word. Choice. Ronan continued.
“You don’t get to protect me by making every decision for me.
” Elliot looked away. “I know.” “Do you?” “Yes.” “Then be pissed.” “I am.” “Good.”
Allowed. Elliot almost said it. Didn’t. Ronan continued.
“But listen.” “Fine.” “Caleb confirmed Saint used the same pattern.” “Rewards.” “Yes.” “Punishment.” “Yes.” “People close to him.” “Yes.” Elliot’s jaw tightened.
Ronan watched. “He said something else.” “What?” “Saint always wanted confession prevented.” “I know.” “No. More specific.” Ronan’s expression tightened.
“Saint would create a second secret.” Elliot frowned.
“What?” “If Caleb threatened to tell his brother about Saint, Saint gave him something worse to hide.”
Cold moved through Elliot. “What kind?” “Photos. Messages. Evidence that could make Caleb look dangerous.”
“Manufactured?” “Some.” “Some?” Ronan nodded. “Others were real things Caleb had done.” Nothing criminal. Probably. Still. Elliot understood. Layers. Secret protecting secret. Tyler. Then murder. Then Ronan. Then Dylan. Everything compounding until confession cost too much. Saint’s architecture.
“What’s the second secret for me?” Ronan stared. Elliot knew before he answered. “The murders.” “Yes.” “But those weren’t created by Saint.” “No.” “Encouraged.”