Page 436 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

Elliot went cold.

“Who?” “No clear face.” “Parents?” “Safe.” “Ronan?” “Here.” “Then what does Saint want?” Vance scrolled. Message beneath the photograph. ONE SECRET LEFT. Another. IF RONAN TELLS YOU WHERE THE MASK IS, HE LOSES. Elliot stared. Game. Again.

“What does that mean?” Vance looked at him. “Ronan got another message separately.” “What did it say?” She hesitated. “Vance.” Then showed him. YOU CAN HAVE THE MASK BACK. JUST DON’T TELL ELLIOT WHERE I PUT IT. Cold moved through him. Second secret. There. Saint had manufactured one. Not huge. Not yet. A secret between them. Exactly what Caleb warned. Elliot stared.

“What did Ronan do?” Vance’s expression changed. “He told me to bring you both messages.” Elliot stopped. “What?” “He refused.” Relief moved through him so hard it almost hurt. “He told you immediately.” “Yes.” No secret. Saint failed. Again. Elliot almost smiled. Vance watched.

“What?” “Nothing.” Then he laughed. Actually laughed. Vance frowned. “Why is that funny?” “Because Saint doesn’t understand him.” Silence. “They thought Ronan would hide it.” “Yes.”

“He didn’t.” “Yes.” “Good.” The word came naturally. Not Saint. Not reward. Just Ronan. Vance studied him. Then:

“There’s more.” Elliot’s smile faded. Of course. “What?” “The location in the photograph was identified.” “How?” “Background markings.” “Where?” Vance looked at him. “St. Augustine Behavioral Health.” Silence. The abandoned hospital. Saint. Adrian Cross. Everything.

“Mask is there.” “Apparently.” “Trap.” “Yes.” “Ronan wants to go.” “No.” Vance almost smiled. “He said you’d say that.” “I’m serious.” “So is he.” Elliot’s jaw tightened. “He’s not going.” “You are under federal detention.” “I don’t care.” “That has become obvious.” Elliot stepped closer. “Do not let him into that building.” Vance stared. “Why?” “Because Saint wants him there.” “Probably.” “They’re done testing me.” “Maybe.” “They’re testing him.” “Yes.”

Elliot looked toward the door. Ronan somewhere outside. Arguing. Probably.

“I need to talk to him.” “You just did.” “Again.” “No.” “Vance.” “No.” She softened slightly. “He already knows what you think.” “How?” “He knows you.” That stopped him. Of course. Vance continued. “He told me you’d say it’s a trap, tell him not to go, and try to bargain your way out of custody.”

Elliot looked away. Accurate. Annoying. “What did he say after?” Vance sighed. “That he’s going anyway.” Elliot’s chest tightened. “No.” “He’ll have a full team.” “No.” “Federal tactical.” “No.” “Ronan is not entering first.” “No.” Vance stared. Elliot stared back. Then she said: “He wants the mask recovered before your case proceeds.” Silence. “He thinks it matters.” “It does.” “Exactly.” Elliot hated that. The mask. Evidence. His confession. All real. All necessary. Ronan was trying to protect legal truth now, not hide it. Growth. Fuck. Elliot looked toward the camera.

“Saint wants me to tell him not to go.” Vance frowned. “What?” “That’s why the visit ended.”

He understood. Saint sends secret. Ronan refuses. Then mask location. Next choice. Ronan goes. Elliot panics. Beg. Control. Saint watches. Again.

“No.” Vance stared. “What?” “I’m not calling him.” “You just demanded to.” “I changed my mind.” “In thirty seconds.” “Growth.” Vance almost laughed. Elliot continued. “He already chose.” “Yes.” “If I try to stop him, I’m giving Saint the reaction.” “Maybe.” “I trust him.” The words felt strange. Hard. Good. Vance looked surprised. So was Elliot.

“I trust Ronan.” He repeated it. Better. Vance nodded. “Okay.” Elliot stared toward the door. His body hated the decision. Every instinct screamed. Go. Control. Protect. Stop him. He couldn’t. Maybe he shouldn't. Ronan had asked him to choose trust. Fine. He would. It felt worse than murder. Interesting. Vance’s phone vibrated. She checked. Her expression changed.

“What?” “Ronan.” Elliot’s pulse jumped. “What did he say?” She turned the screen. Message from Ronan. Tell him I’m coming back. Elliot stared. Then another: And tell him not to bite anyone while I’m gone. His mouth twitched. Fuck him. Vance smiled faintly.

“Anything you want me to send back?” Elliot looked at the words. Then toward the camera. Saint might see everything. Fine. Let them.

“Yeah.” “What?” Elliot smiled. Not golden. Not murderous. His. “Tell him not to be late.”

Chapter Thirty-Six — The Favorite

THE FAVORITE

THURSDAY · 11:26 A.M.

St. Augustine Behavioral Health looked smaller in daylight. Ronan decided that made it worse. At night, abandoned buildings were allowed to be frightening. Darkness did half the work. Shadows filled broken windows. Trees became shapes. Every sound could be blamed on the fact that human beings had spent thousands of years learning not to wander into dark places alone. At eleven twenty-six on a Thursday morning, there was nowhere for fear to hide. The building simply stood there. Four stories of stained brick and boarded windows at the northern edge of Saint Augustine’s Park. Half the eastern wing had been demolished years ago, leaving a jagged seam of exposed concrete where hallways once continued into nothing. Dead vines crawled across the western wall. Rust streaked beneath old window frames. A faded sign remained above the main entrance.

ST. AUGUSTINE BEHAVIORAL HEALTH Someone had spray-painted over HEALTH. Ronan stared through the windshield of Vance’s SUV.

“Subtle.” Vance glanced over. “What?” “Saint Augustine.” “Yes.” “Saint.” “Yes.” “Adrian really committed to the branding.” “If Adrian is Saint.” Ronan looked at her. “You still need the qualifier?” “I’m a detective.” “You’re annoying.” “I’m a detective.” Fair. Three black tactical vehicles occupied the cracked parking lot ahead of them. Federal officers had joined Bellweather Police

after Saint’s access to the detention annex became obvious. Ronan had stopped trying to understand which agency controlled what approximately forty minutes ago. All he knew was Elliot remained at the annex. Ronan was here. He hated both facts. His temporary phone rested in an evidence pouch in Vance’s console. Saint had not messaged again. That bothered him more than the messages.

“Anything from Elliot?” Vance looked at him. “You saw him an hour ago.” “That wasn’t my question.” “No.” “Did they tell him we arrived?” “No.” “Why?” “Because we’re not providing live operational updates to a homicide suspect in federal detention.”

Ronan stared. “When you say it like that, he sounds terrible.” Vance gave him a look. Ronan looked back toward the building. Elliot had told him not to be late. He wouldn’t be. Tomorrow. Another visit. No matter what happened here. Vance opened her door.

“Stay with me.” Ronan followed. Cold air hit immediately. The park was almost empty beyond the police perimeter. A few people stood behind barricades farther down the road, phones raised because apparently watching heavily armed officers enter an abandoned psychiatric hospital qualified as Thursday entertainment. Ronan shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. One of the federal officers approached.

“Building exterior is clear.” “Entry?” “Team one is inside.” “Any movement?” “No.” Vance nodded. Ronan looked toward the entrance. “Then why am I here?” The officer looked at him. Vance answered. “Because the photograph of the mask included something addressed to you.”

Ronan stopped. “What?”