Page 357 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

Elliot said, “Yes.” Vance almost smiled.

“Perfect.”

The plan was simple. Which meant Ronan hated it. Elliot walked through the front pedestrian gate alone. No visible weapon. No police beside him. A small microphone hidden beneath his collar. Ronan and Vance remained in a delivery van positioned behind the abandoned strip mall. Officers waited at three entry points. Saint had given forty-five minutes. Twenty-eight remained. Ronan watched Elliot on a monitor. Small figure. Black hoodie. Hands visible. Walking alone between storage rows. His stomach twisted.

“That’s far enough.”

Vance spoke into Elliot’s earpiece. He didn’t acknowledge. Couldn’t. Saint might be watching. Unit twelve appeared. Roll-up door closed. Elliot stopped. Ronan held his breath. Then Elliot’s temporary phone vibrated. Visible through the body camera disguised in his jacket zipper. He looked down. Message.

ALONE MEANS ALONE.

Ronan swore. Vance stiffened. Another message.

SEND RONAN HOME.

Ronan stared.

“No.”

Elliot looked toward the distant street. Not directly at the van. Close. The message continued.

OR CLAIRE LEARNS WHAT HAPPENS TO BAD GIRLS.

Ronan’s chest tightened. Vance whispered:

“Don’t react.”

Elliot didn’t. Good. His phone vibrated again. A live image. Claire. Still in the chair. Someone stood behind her now. Only an arm visible. Black sleeve. Knife pressed lightly beneath her jaw. Elliot stopped. Ronan saw his hand close into a fist.

“No,” Ronan whispered.

Vance looked at him. Ronan leaned toward the microphone.

“Promise.”

He knew Elliot could hear. Elliot’s fist slowly opened. Good. The phone vibrated. HE CAN’T SAVE YOU FROM WHAT YOU ARE. Elliot stared at it. Then typed. Ronan watched the letters appear. I’m not asking him to. His chest tightened. Saint replied:

THEN SEND HIM AWAY.

Elliot typed: No. Immediate. No hesitation. Ronan stared. Vance whispered, “Elliot, careful.” Saint:

YOU CHOOSE HIM AGAIN.

Elliot: Every time. Ronan forgot how to breathe. There. Not murder. Not obsession. Choice. His chest hurt. Saint’s response took longer. Five seconds. Ten. Then:

GOOD BOY.

Elliot’s face hardened. He typed: Don’t call me that. Ronan stared. Saint: WHY? HE DOES. Elliot: You’re not him. Silence. Ronan felt something viciously satisfying move through him. Probably inappropriate. He didn’t care. Then unit twelve’s door began lifting. Elliot stepped backward. Ronan’s entire body tightened. Darkness inside. The door rose two feet. Three. Four. Claire’s chair became visible. Empty. Ronan’s stomach dropped.

“No.”

Elliot entered. Vance immediately whispered:

“Stay at threshold.”

He ignored her. Of course. The unit was almost empty. Chair. Camera on tripod. Speaker. No Claire. No Saint. Ronan swore.

“Trap.”