Page 26 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“You did not.”

“You're holding coffee in my presence. That's basically the same thing.”

Claire rolled her eyes. That was better. They reached the psychology building. A printed photograph of Mason had been taped beside the entrance. Elliot recognized the picture immediately. Same one from the university alert. Mason smiling. Head slightly tilted. Blue shirt. A perfectly harmless twenty-twoyear-old frozen forever in whatever fraction of a second the camera had captured. Someone had placed a white rose beneath it. Elliot walked past. Professor Adler canceled the morning lecture. Not officially. He stood at the front of the classroom at eight thirty and spent the first ten minutes explaining that Bellweather counseling services were available, that nobody should feel obligated to remain if they were struggling, and that anyone who had information regarding Mason's movements Saturday night should contact the police.

Then nobody seemed capable of discussing abnormal psychology. Mason had known too many people. Two students in the seminar had been at the party. Three knew him through Kappa. One had taken a class with him sophomore year. The conversation turned into memories. Mason was funny. Mason was generous. Mason always bought people drinks. Mason once drove somebody to the airport at four in the morning. Mason had helped organize a fundraiser. Mason had been planning to move to New York after graduation. Elliot listened. People became fascinating after death. Every rough edge was sanded away. Every cruel joke became irrelevant. Every person they'd humiliated suddenly forgot. The dead were granted a version of themselves they'd never managed to become while alive.

Professor Adler eventually dismissed them. Students gathered their belongings slowly. Claire touched Elliot's arm.

“Bathroom.”

“I'll alert the media.”

“Wait for me.”

Elliot nodded. He remained seated while the room emptied. His phone buzzed.

RONAN: You alive?

Elliot smiled.

ELLIOT: unfortunately

RONAN: Mom texted me three times about campus safety.

ELLIOT: same

RONAN: Apparently we're not allowed outside anymore.

ELLIOT: come lock me in the house

There was a pause. Then:

RONAN: Don't start.

Elliot's smile widened.

ELLIOT: start what?

The typing bubble appeared. Before Ronan answered, someone spoke behind him.

“Elliot Mercer?”

Elliot looked up. A woman stood in the aisle. She wasn't university faculty. Late thirties, maybe. Dark brown hair pulled into a low ponytail. Navy coat damp across the shoulders from the rain. No umbrella. Her face wasn't familiar. The badge she held up was.

“Detective Mara Vance. Bellweather Police.”

Elliot looked at the badge. Then her.

“Okay.”

“Do you have a minute?”

Around them, the last few students leaving the room slowed. Not enough to look obvious. Enough to listen. Elliot noticed.

“Sure.”

Vance gestured toward the hallway.