Page 25 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“What?”

“You're weirdly calm.”

Elliot looked around the quad. People stood around Mason's memorial. Someone was photographing it. A professor hurried past carrying an umbrella.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I don't know.”

“Cry?”

“No.”

“Scream?”

“Stop.”

“I'm serious.”

“So am I.”

Elliot softened his voice.

“Claire, I barely knew him.”

“You were at the same party.”

“So were two hundred other people.”

“I know.”

“Then what?”

She looked toward the memorial. For several seconds she didn't answer.

“When somebody our age dies, aren't you supposed to feel something?”

Elliot watched the girl crying beside the flowers.

“Maybe.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

The lie was small enough to be harmless. Claire nodded. They started walking again. Near Whitmore Hall, two Bellweather police cruisers sat beside the curb. Claire noticed them too.

“That's comforting.”

“Maybe they're here because everyone keeps spreading crimescene details.”

“Or because there's a murderer.”

“Also possible.”

“You're terrible at comforting people.”

“I bought you coffee.”