Page 393 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

Nathan’s face tightened. Ronan leaned toward the table.

“Now tell us who the fuck Saint is.”

Chapter Thirty-One — Visit Me

ELLIOT

TUESDAY · 4:02 P.M.

The handcuffs were tighter than Elliot expected. Not painful. Just present. Cold metal around both wrists. A constant physical reminder that the version of his life where he could leave whenever he wanted had ended approximately twenty-three minutes ago. Detective Vance walked several feet ahead. Another officer remained behind. Elliot stared at the back of Vance’s coat as they moved through the hallway toward processing. He should have been thinking about charges. Evidence. Lawyers. Sentencing. Five murders. He should probably have been calculating whether the confession could be suppressed somehow, whether Gregory Bell would murder him before the state got the opportunity, whether anything he had admitted without counsel present counted as catastrophically stupid. Instead he thought about Ronan’s hand.

The way it had held his beneath the table. The way it had let go. The way Ronan had promised. I’m not leaving. Elliot believed him. That frightened him almost as much as prison. Because Ronan had already done too much. Lied. Hidden evidence. Protected him. Broken his own phone. Chosen him over and over until Saint had begun treating Ronan’s corruption like entertainment. Confessing had been the first thing Elliot had done in weeks that made the choice smaller instead of larger. No more lies Ronan had to carry. No more evidence Ronan had to hide. No more asking the man he loved to become worse simply because Elliot was terrified of consequences. It felt terrible. Probably meant it had been right.

Elliot hated that. Vance stopped at a secured door. An officer swiped a card. The lock clicked. Elliot looked back once. Nothing. Ronan was somewhere beyond several walls. Still in the interview wing. With Nathan. Maybe listening. Maybe furious. Maybe crying. No. Ronan rarely cried. Elliot had seen it twice. Once at his grandfather’s funeral. Once after Elliot had said he loved him for the first time and then pretended he hadn’t noticed Ronan wiping his face in the bathroom afterward. He almost smiled at the memory. The officer behind him said, “Something funny?” Elliot looked forward.

“No.”

The word. Still following him. Vance glanced back. Apparently she remembered too.

“Probably retire that one.”

Elliot’s mouth twitched.

“Yes, Detective.”

They entered processing. Gregory Bell arrived at 4:37. He looked exactly as furious as Elliot expected. The interview room had changed. No Vance. No Nathan. No Ronan. Just Elliot sitting at a bolted table with his hands free now and Bell standing opposite him with both palms flat against the surface.

“You confessed.”

Elliot nodded.

“Without me.”

“Yes.”

“To five homicides.”

“Yes.”

Bell stared. Elliot waited. The lawyer inhaled slowly. Then exhaled.

“I want to make sure I understand the magnitude of what you just did.”

“I think I understand.”

“No.”

Bell sat. The anger disappeared beneath professionalism. Worse.

“You gave a voluntary admission after being advised repeatedly to contact counsel before answering substantive questions.”

“Yes.”

“You named yourself as the perpetrator.”

“Yes.”

“Repeatedly.”