Page 234 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“How long before?”

“Months.”

Ronan stepped backward. Elliot didn’t move.

“You had it before the murder.”

“Yes.”

“Did anyone else know?”

“No.”

“Anyone borrow it?”

“No.”

“Was it stolen?”

“No.”

Ronan felt cold spread through his chest.

“Then how the fuck is it on security footage?”

Elliot’s face changed. Tiny. Ronan saw it. The last possible lie trying to form.

“Don’t.”

Elliot looked at him.

“Do not fucking lie to me again.”

Silence. Ronan’s voice dropped.

“Were you wearing it?”

Elliot stared. The answer took too long.

“Yes.”

Everything disappeared. The house. The lights. The closed blinds. The police cruiser outside. For one impossible second, Ronan heard nothing. Then sound returned all at once. Heating pipes. Rainwater in the gutter. His own pulse. Elliot breathing. Ronan stared at him.

“You were there.”

“Yes.”

“When Mason died.”

“Yes.”

Ronan’s stomach rolled. He backed into the kitchen island. The edge struck his hip. He barely felt it. The prologue of the last several weeks rearranged itself inside his head. Mason. The party. The mask. Elliot reading every article. Detective Vance. The security image. The phone left at home. The fucking perfect alibi.

“Jesus Christ.”

Elliot stepped forward. Ronan immediately lifted one hand.

“Don’t.”