Page 97 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

Elliot turned. The sentence surprised both of them. Ronan frowned.

“What does that mean?”

Elliot looked at him. It would have been easy to lie. Instead, he said, “People decide what you should feel before they ask what you actually feel.” Ronan stayed quiet. Elliot continued.

“Mason dies, Claire thinks I'm too calm. Lucas disappears, you think I'm too interested. Police ask questions, I'm supposed to panic. If I don't, something's wrong with me.”

“I didn't say something was wrong with you.”

“You keep acting like there is.”

Ronan's face softened.

“I'm worried because I love you.”

Elliot froze. There it was. Same weapon. Different mouth. Ronan stepped closer.

“I don't give a shit whether you cry over Lucas. I care that cops keep coming back to you.”

Elliot looked away. Ronan touched the back of his neck.

“Let me worry.”

“I hate when you worry.”

“I know.”

“It's annoying.”

“Also know.”

Elliot exhaled.

“Fine.”

“Fine what?”

“Call your dad.”

Ronan smiled slightly.

“Good boy.”

Elliot looked at him.

“Careful.”

Ronan laughed. For a few seconds, everything felt normal again. Then Elliot remembered his car. Thomas Vale's attorney was named Gregory Bell. Elliot disliked him immediately. Not personally. Gregory Bell seemed perfectly pleasant. That was the problem. Pleasant lawyers felt like smiling sharks. Bell arrived at the carriage house at 8:41 wearing an expensive navy suit and carrying a leather folio that probably cost more than Elliot's laptop. He was in his fifties, silver-haired, cleanshaven, and had the unnerving habit of listening without interrupting. Ronan liked him immediately. Of course.

“You've spoken with Detective Vance twice?” Bell asked.

Elliot sat at the kitchen island.

“Yes.”

“First interaction?”

“Campus.”