Dead Reckoning (Cold Case Psychic Book 2) by Pandora Pine (4)

When the third blow landed, Tennyson moaned rather than crying out in pain. He looked down to see his cock drooling a steady stream of pre-come all over Ronan’s comforter.

“Someone likes being spanked for being a bad boy, hmm?” Ronan purred. His voice was smooth like silk now.

Tennyson could only moan. He was beyond words at this point. When he felt the press of Ronan’s finger against his dry hole, he babbled a string of consonants he hoped to fuck Ronan understood as an invitation.

“Such an eager, bad boy.” Ronan spat and rubbed it against Tennyson’s twitching hole. A second later, he cracked another mark against Tennyson’s tender ass.

“Ronan!” Tennyson managed to howl as his cock pulsed and started to shoot. He felt Ronan’s fist wrap around his dick as it continued to jerk, spewing his release. His arms were wobbly and barely holding his weight. He barely recognized the almost barbaric roar coming out of his throat as his orgasm crested and finally receded.

He collapsed on the bed, landing right in the wet spot. Ten was so thoroughly spent and happy that he could not have cared less.  “Holy fuck, Ronan,” Ten whispered when Ronan spooned him from behind.

Ronan chuckled in Ten’s ear. “Do me a favor. Be bad more often, babe.”

 

 

34
Ronan

Ronan’s ringing phone was what woke him up out of a deep sleep. “O’Mara.” His voice didn’t sound like his own. It was sleep-thickened and barely above a whisper.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Captain Fitzgibbon’s voice boomed through the phone.

“Morning people suck,” Ronan muttered.

The captain laughed in Ronan’s ear. “Are you coming in to work today, detective?”

Grunting, Ronan pulled the phone away from his face. He punched the home button to see the clock. 5:51am. “God, you’re an asshole. It isn’t even 6am. Or is it Daylight Savings?” Ronan sat bolt upright in bed and shook Tennyson’s shoulder. “Shit, Ten! Is it Daylight Savings?”

Tennyson whacked a hand backward at Ronan. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard for waking me up for sex. Besides, your dick isn’t even hard.”

“I’ll never un-hear that,” Captain Fitzgibbon muttered. “I should have just led with the fact that I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Is it pancakes? I could go for pancakes. After the night we had…” Ronan trailed off.

“Oh. My. God!” Fitzgibbon growled.

“I’ll just shut up now.” Ronan snorted.

“Who are you talking to?” Tennyson asked, rolling over and sitting up.

“The captain.” Ronan waggled his eyebrows at Tennyson.

“Christ, just put me on speakerphone so you both can hear me.” Fitzgibbon sighed. “Can you both hear me now?”

“Loud and clear!” Tennyson bit his bottom lip.

“Rod Jacobson called me back last night. Said he was working on a story and was off the grid, which is why he didn’t get back to you yesterday.”

“Story, my ass,” Ronan muttered.

“That may be, but he’s coming in at 7am to meet with you.”

“With me or with us? The last time we were going to get together he didn’t want anything to do with Ten.” Ronan’s radar was on high alert now. If Jacobson didn’t want Ten in the interrogation room again, he’d know for sure there was something up.

“He didn’t mention anything to do with Tennyson. He just said he’d be here this morning, and before you ask, I don’t have the DNA back yet on the can of soda we took from Jace Lincoln. What I do have are the phone records from your motel clerk. You were right, Ronan. The number Jacobson is using to contact him is a burner cell and we can’t trace it.”

“Damn.” After round one, Ronan had called the captain after placing an order for Thai food. He’d filled Fitzgibbon in on everything that happened out at the motel. “We’ll get cleaned up and see you in a few.”

“Jesus Christ, Ronan! TMI!”  The line beeped three times and went dead.

“I just meant we’d grab a shower.” Ronan shrugged innocently.

“Yeah, but now he has visions of us getting down and dirty before we get clean.” Tennyson grinned.

“Speaking of down and dirty, how’s your ass?” Ronan had spanked Ten pretty hard last night, not that Tennyson hadn’t enjoyed it, but there were still red marks on his skin when they’d finally decided to go to sleep.

“Sore but ready for more.” Ten giggled.

Ronan laughed. “Tonight, babe. We’ve got a suspect to interrogate.” It wasn’t like Ronan to turn down sex, but he could feel himself starting to salivate over the prospect of interviewing Rod Jacobson.

 

When Ronan and Tennyson walked into the precinct half an hour later Captain Fitzgibbon was waiting for them.

“He’s already here,” Fitzgibbon said without preamble. “He doesn’t want coffee, water, or anything else.”

Ronan nodded. “Already trying to take control of the interview. I can work with that, make him think that he really is in charge in there.”

“Just remember this is an interview. He thinks he’s coming in here to help us. Play that card, but we could really use his DNA.” Fitzgibbon turned to Tennyson. “Get what you can by any means necessary. I know you have a code you play by, but this is a matter of life and death. If he thinks we’re on to him, he may escalate and go after his next victim ahead of schedule.”

Tennyson nodded.

“You ready to do this?” Ronan asked softly. He hated putting Tennyson through another ordeal with a possible killer. He’d had a hard time getting a read on Jace Lincoln; Ronan could only hope he’d have an easier time with Jacobson.

“Almost.” Tennyson straightened his spine.

“What do you mean, almost? What’s wrong?” Shit, if Tennyson was having second thoughts, Ronan was going to have to take Fitzgibbon into the interview with him.

“I’ve got an idea. There’s no reason I need to be in the room with you in order for me to read Jacobson.”

“Why wouldn’t you be in the room, Tennyson?” Fitzgibbon asked. Concern laced his voice.

Ronan started to laugh. “Come on, you really think that will work?”

“Men think with their dicks, Ronan. So, yeah, I think that will work.” Tennyson waggled his eyebrows.

“Guys, I don’t mean to interrupt this cute little scene where you talk without talking, but what the hell are you both talking about?”

“When I was out with Jacobson last week, he made it very clear to me that he was interested. When I told him I was off the market, he made a comment about what a damn shame that was. So, if I go in there without my partner and play up the fact that I dumped him because he wasn’t exciting enough for me, tried to change me, whatever…” Ronan trailed off, hoping the captain would see where this was going.

“So, you’ll flirt with him through the interview while Ten tries to read him through the two-way mirror?” Fitzgibbon looked back and forth between them.

Nodding, Ronan sized up Tennyson. This was his idea, but he wanted to make sure his lover’s body language said he was still on board with the plan.

“If Jacobson is more relaxed, and not on guard against me, he’s going to be easier to read,” Tennyson added.

“If he’s thinking with his dick, you mean?” The captain asked with a grin.

“Exactly!” Ronan was all smiles. “How do I look?” He ran a hand through his perfect hair to mess it up a bit.

Tennyson stepped forward to undo one button and open Ronan’s collar to show a bit more of his neck. “Get the DNA by any means necessary. I mean it, Ronan.”

“Are you sure?” Ronan didn’t like the idea of kissing this potential dirtbag to get his DNA, but if it was the only way, he’d do it and once the sample was collected, he’d scrub his lips until they were raw.

“You’re already forgiven, now go.” Tennyson smiled. “But bring two coffees with you, just in case.”

Nodding, Ronan ran off toward the kitchen, praying he didn’t have to use his lips to collect Rod Jacobson’s DNA.

 

 

 

35
Tennyson

Tennyson situated himself behind the two-way mirror that looked into the interrogation room where Rod Jacobson was sitting. After Ronan had spent the day with the newsman who’d flirted with his man, Ten had, of course, Googled him.

On paper, Jacobson was an impressive man. He’d graduated valedictorian from his high school class at Hamilton-Wenham High School. Both towns were rich suburbs north of Boston. He then went on to major in journalism at Northeastern University which is located in the same part of Boston as Fenway Park.

Jacobson worked for the university newspaper during his time at the university and had published a series of articles detailing corruption in the Northeastern on-campus security guard union, which led to sweeping changes, including Northeastern establishing their own police force.

Upon graduation, he’d had a job waiting for him at the Boston Globe. He’d started out as a beat writer, covering everything from human interest stories about a factory closing in Roslindale to stories about whales beaching themselves on the Cape.  He’d even done man-on-the-street interviews in 2004 when the Red Sox won their first World Series in eighty-six years.

To be honest, none of those things interested Tennyson. So the man could write, big fucking deal. What mattered now was if the man sitting at the table in front of him was a child-pimping serial killer.

Ten took a deep breath and tried to find his center. His own emotions were a mess and that wasn’t helping him at the moment. He needed to let his anger go over what Jacobson had allegedly done to the spirits who’d sought him out and to the boys he’d been bringing to the Beach Inn to sell to the highest bidder.

He was almost calm enough to read Jacobson when the door opened behind him. Fitzgibbon’s calming presence soothed him.

“Ronan’s taking his sweet ass time. I see.” Fitzgibbon snickered.

Tennyson took one last deep breath and opened his eyes. “I’m sure he’ll be here any second.”

“Was I interrupting your prep time?”

“No, I’m good. How’s Greeley doing?” To be honest, Tennyson could use the distraction. He wasn’t quite ready to peer into the mind of a possible mad man just yet.

Fitzgibbon slipped his hands into his pocket and rocked back on his heels. “He’s still dealing with detoxing. He’s got the shakes something awful and his teeth feel loose and ache in his jaw. I’m still trying to read to him, but sometimes he’s in too much pain to listen.”

Ten could feel the pain rolling off Fitzgibbon. He hated this for a man he’d come to think of not only as his boss, but as his friend too. “I’ve got an idea, Kevin. When Ronan and I visited Vann Hoffman, he mentioned going to see a presentation by an energy healer. Guy’s name was Broughan Something-or-other. He does private sessions. Maybe he could help Greeley with his pain?”

Fitzgibbon opened his mouth and instantly shut it with a clack of his teeth.

Grinning, Tennyson didn’t need his gift to know the captain was about to dismiss his suggestion out of hand as some hippy-dippy new-age bullshit.

Instead, Fitzgibbon pulled out his phone and started typing. “Broughan Beals. Is that him?”

“Yup. He’s a local guy.”

“I’ll be right back.” Fitzgibbon set a hand on Ten’s shoulder. “I owe you one.” The captain slipped out the door.

Tennyson grinned and turned his attention back to Rod Jacobson and the interview room door which had just opened.

“Rod! Sorry to have kept you waiting. Damn coffee machine was on the fritz, so I ran out to the frou-frou place across the street for a couple of vanilla lattes. He set both of the hot brews next to himself. “What have you been up to since the last time we saw each other?”

Rod offered him a small smile. “I’ve been chasing down leads on the possible serial killer case we talked about. I’ve gotta tell you, I’m not finding much traction here with the street kids. Which is why I’m puzzled that you brought me in today.” He turned around to look at the door. “Where’s your partner, detective?”

Ronan’s smile was nearly blinding. “Seems you’re not the only one who’s been busy since the last time we saw each other.”

“All work and no play, hmm?” Jacobson looked bored.

Ronan tilted his head to the side. “That’s never been more true.”

“What do you mean?” Jacobson leaned across the table. Curiosity glinted in his eyes.

“We really shouldn’t be talking about this.” Ronan leaned forward, a conspiratorial look on his face. “I broke up with Tennyson.”

“You didn’t.” Jacobson didn’t look convinced.

“He’s not buying it,” Fitzgibbon whispered from beside Tennyson.

Ten had been so focused on Ronan, he hadn’t heard Kevin come back into the small observation room. “Yes, he is. He’s just toying with Ronan. Like a cat with a mouse.”

“You getting anything on him?”

“Just that he’s turned on.” Ten shivered in disgust. He was going to need a long hot shower after this.

Ronan pushed the other vanilla latte toward Jacobson before opening the lid on his own and taking a sip. “He was too vanilla for me.” Ronan tipped his cup to the newspaper man. “No pun intended.”

“Why am I really here, Ronan? You have my private cell number. If you wanted to tell me about breaking up with Tennyson, you could have done it that way instead of inviting me in for an interview at BPD headquarters.”

“You’re right. I could have done that. Hell, I should have, but I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone.” Nodding, Ronan stood up and walked to the two-way mirror. He knocked on the glass. “My boss is standing back there watching this interview. He’s the one who finds it…” Ronan paused and paced around the room, “curious, that twelve hours after I met with you and those boys at the shelter that one of them turned up dead in a marsh in Saugus.”

Jacobson’s demeanor changed then. “One of those boys is dead?”

“Yeah, Dylan Charles. The one who spoke to me and said he knew Austin Roberts.”

“That’s a shame. He seemed like a nice kid.” Jacobson shook his head.

Tennyson shook his head. “I don’t like this prick, but…”

“But what?” Fitzgibbon asked.

“I don’t feel anything disingenuous either. He’s cocky, but we can’t arrest him for that.” As much as Tennyson wished they could. Jacobson was sizing Ronan up like he was on the menu, which he knew was part of Ronan’s plan, but it still rankled.

“Is there something underneath? You said psychopaths read differently.”

Ten shut his eyes and reached out again with his sixth sense. All he was getting from Jacobson was how much the prick wanted to bend Ronan over the interview table and fuck him into next week. There were also some background thoughts on how this serial killer story would get him his next Pulitzer Prize and hopefully a multi-million-dollar book deal. The last thing he picked up was how stupid he thought Ronan and the BPD were for not thinking the killer was obviously Jace Lincoln. “I’m not getting anything from him that leads me to believe he’s the killer. He wants Ronan something awful and thinks we’re all dumb as a bag of rocks for not arresting Jace for the killings.”

“Nothing about the prostitution ring out at the Beach Inn either, huh?” Kevin asked.

“No, and that’s odd. He should be trying to mask that.” Tennyson was more confused now than ever. He was going to need to talk to Carson about this.

“Where were you after we left the shelter that night, Rod?” Ronan asked, sitting back down at the table. 

Rod reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. “I stopped at the liquor store on Winter Street. I’ve got the receipt here on my phone.” He turned the phone around to show Ronan. “Says I checked out at 10:15pm and then I hopped on the T at the Park Street stop and went home alone to drown my sorrows in Grey Goose.”

Ronan shrugged. “Sorry I wasn’t there to make martinis with you.” He took a messy sip of his latte, leaving foam on his top lip.

“Here, let me.” Rob leaned over the table to swipe the foam away with his index finger which he popped into his mouth. “Mmm.”

“Fucking gag me,” Tennyson half-growled.

“It’s all part of the dance.” Fitzgibbon gave Ten’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Who do you think is behind this? I mean you’ve been out on the streets talking to these kids. What are they leading you to believe?” Ronan propped his chin in the cup of his hand and seemed to stop just shy of sighing in adoration like a teenage fanboy.

“You’re dealing with a brilliant killer, obviously. You said that he’s been killing for some time now and has managed to elude your notice.”

“Well, until a ghost visited Tennyson.” Ronan shrugged like he wasn’t sure if that was true.

“Do you really believe in that shit, Ronan? I mean, come on, a spirit sitting on the edge of the Fruit Loop’s bed, asking him to find out who murdered him. Have you ever heard of anything more insane in your entire life?” Jacobson laughed.

“Yeah,” Ten scoffed. “You thinking you’ve got a chance with Ronan.” What an asshole. Tennyson was going to nail this arrogant prick to the wall if it was the last thing he did.

Ronan shrugged. “It all became a bit more believable when we found this ghost’s body in the morgue, Rod, and the M.E. said he had been murdered.”

Rod walked his right hand forward, his fingers slid over Ronan’s. “You want to know who I think is murdering these poor gay kids?”

Ronan nodded wordlessly, his eyes glued to Rod’s fingers.

“I think it’s the psychic. He uses his powers as a way of having knowledge of the crime. A ghost came to me and told me he was murdered and left in a field in Newburyport. It’s fucking brilliant if you ask me, especially since he’s got the ear of a cold case detective…” Rod trailed off, but left his fingers entwined with Ronan’s.

“That dirty motherfucker!” Tennyson angry-whispered.

“Easy, Ten. It is brilliant. Watch!” Fitzgibbon pointed to the glass.

Ronan sat stone-still for a moment before he started to nod. “Jesus fucking Christ. That dirty son-of-a-bitch!” Ronan’s head popped up and he started to laugh. “Rod! That’s brilliant! Fucking brilliant.” Ronan pulled his hand back, staring at his fingers for a second before he started pacing around the room. “Grimm used me. Got close to me and then told me about his fucking visions as a way throw me off the trail of the murders he’s committing!”

“You told me yourself Tennyson was closeted for years, right? Sounds like these are revenge killings for all those years he was forced to stay in the closet.”

Ronan strode back to the two-way mirror and knocked on it. “Captain, send a crime scene unit to my apartment. Grimm left his toothbrush there. It’s pink. Have them bag and tag it for DNA. Let’s nail this fucker.”

“A pink toothbrush, Ten?” Fitzgibbon laughed before knocking on the glass in return to tell Ronan he’d gotten the message.

“You may have just cracked this case. This means another Pulitzer for sure. Hell, the mayor will probably give you the key to the city!” Ronan crowed. “I could fucking kiss you, Jacobson!”

“No one’s stopping you.” Jacobson’s eyes darkened.

Ronan strode to the newspaper man and grabbed his face in both hands before planting a kiss on his lips. Before pulling away, Ronan tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth and swiped his tongue across the swollen skin.

Tennyson groaned, closing his eyes. “Jesus Christ, give the man an Oscar and get me a barf bag.”

 

 

36
Ronan

After a member of the crime lab spent fifteen excruciating minutes and used four different swabs going over both of Ronan’s lips, his tongue and teeth for Rod Jacobson’s DNA, he was finally able to brush his teeth and use mouthwash. It hadn’t helped. He could still taste the revolting man. What was worse, Tennyson wouldn’t kiss him either.

“I want to, I just can’t. Not yet.” Tennyson reached out for Ronan’s hand and linked their fingers together.

They were sitting in Captain Fitzgibbon’s office waiting for him to come back from the men’s room.

“Ah, there are my favorite lovebirds. All made up? Good!” Fitzgibbon sat behind his desk and steepled his fingers. “What are your impressions of Jacobson now, Ronan?”

“I’m more convinced than ever he’s our guy. He was quick to turn the tables on Tennyson when he found out we’d broken up.” Ronan made air quotes over “broken up.”

Fitzgibbon tilted his head to the side. “You have to admit he makes a good argument.”

“What?” Tennyson practically screeched.

“Hold on, Ten, let me explain.” Fitzgibbon shot him a weary glance. “To an outsider who doesn’t know you and doesn’t know that your talent is real, you are a viable suspect here. You have a cold case detective wrapped around your little finger and you’ve made a friend in a Boston Police captain.” Fitzgibbon pointed to himself. “Hell, in his press conference back in February, the Boston Police Commissioner said the city owed you a debt of gratitude that could never be repaid for the work you did on the Michael Frye case.”

“Okay, you have a small point,” Tennyson conceded.

“So, let’s say you are killing these boys. It would be damn clever for you to come to Ronan and say ‘I had a vision of Justin Wilson. He was killed with a slash to the throat and his naked body was left in Newburyport.’ We’d all believe you spoke to his spirit because of your work on the Frye case. You’d be the last person Ronan and I would suspect of being our murderer.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got the killer’s DNA. A simple swab of my cheek would settle the matter once and for all. By accusing me, Jacobson only bought himself, what, forty-eight hours at most?”

“It’s the Friday of Memorial Day Weekend, Ten,” Ronan pointed out. “He just bought himself four days. He knows damn well no one is going to be working after noon today and the lab will be off until Tuesday. That gives him ninety-six hours before we turn our sights back to him, in his eyes anyway.”

“As much as I don’t want to talk about the kiss…” Tennyson shivered in the warm room. “Did he think we weren’t going to swab you for DNA?”

“The last thing he was thinking about when I was kissing him was DNA. Let’s just leave it at that.” Ronan grimaced. Jacobson’s dick had been digging into Ronan’s stomach so hard, he’d been afraid it was going to bruise his skin.

Obviously, the bastard liked to be man-handled. Ronan couldn’t wait to manhandle him again, only next time, he’d be slapping cuffs on him and reading his Miranda warning.

“I’m worried about these next few days, Captain.” Ronan shook his head, trying to get his thoughts off Jacobson’s revolting kiss and back to business. “I think we should go public with this case. Alert the media. Get those kids off the street so they’ll be safe.”

Fitzgibbon sat back in his seat. “These kids are hooking to survive, Ronan. Some need money for food, some for drugs. We can’t keep them all off the streets.”

“What if we do a sweep? Round them all up and keep them in lock-up over the weekend? That way the killer won’t be able to get them.” They’d have a warm, dry place to sleep for the weekend, not to mention three square meals a day.

“Do you have any idea how long it takes to plan something like that? Not to mention the resources that go into it and the fact that it’s a holiday weekend. Not only would we be looking at paying overtime, but double time on top of it. Plus, we’re stretched thin with officers doing security detail work for the Memorial Day activities going on in the city. I understand what you’re trying to do here, Ronan, believe me, but it’s just not possible.”

“Motherfucker,” Ronan muttered under his breath. He got up from his seat and started pacing around the small office. “There has to be something we can do.”

Fitzgibbon shook his head. “We’re in a holding pattern until we get that DNA back, Ronan. You know how this works. We can’t arrest anyone until we have proof that they’ve committed a crime.”

“What about that prostitution business out at the Beach Inn? We have enough probable cause to bring Jacobson in for the shit going on out there.”

Fitzgibbon shook his head and sighed. “I spoke with Captain Sullivan. He’s in charge of vice. They want to run surveillance on the place for a while longer before they make a move on Jacobson. They’re bringing Joey in for questioning today since it’s his day off. Ten says that Jacobson knows his schedule and never calls on his off days, so it’s a safe move.”

“But, cap-” Ronan started.

“No buts, Ronan. It’s a long weekend. I know you and Ten have plans with Carson and his family. Go and enjoy that. You’ve both been working so hard on this case. Take some time off and enjoy your friends and each other.”

“You’re part of the family now too, Kevin,” Tennyson offered. “Since your gonna be right down the road in Swampscott, feel free to stop in for a burger and some pasta salad. I think Truman’s making some of his off the hook chili dogs. Maybe you can make up a plate to take back to Greeley if he’s up to eating? I’ve got some books for you at home too. I grabbed a copy of Huck Finn and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.”

Fitzgibbon nodded. “Thanks, Ten. I’ll keep that in mind. I meant to tell you earlier that I got in touch with Broughan Beals.”

“Why do I know that name?” Ronan turned to Tennyson.

“He’s that energy healer that Vann Hoffman was going on and on about, remember?”

Ronan snorted. “Yeah. God, he had such a hard-on for that guy. I wonder if they ever hooked up?”

“Shush,” Tennyson whispered.

“Oh fuck, is the captain interested in dating him?” Ronan looked up at his boss. “Shit, cap are you going out with him?”

Fitzgibbon rolled his eyes. “No, I am not going out with him. Greeley has been having a hard time with the symptoms of detox and after Ten told me about him, I thought maybe he could help with what Greeley’s going through. Turns out Broughan has time tomorrow to swing by and see him.”

“How’s that possible over a holiday weekend?” Ronan looked shocked.

“Well, I mentioned Tennyson’s name and how he was a big fan,” Fitzgibbon grinned.

“Tennyson Grimm, door-opener!” Ronan elbowed Tennyson.

“He did say that he was a fan of Tennyson, but that he was booked solid until after the Fourth of July.”

“Wait.” Ronan looked confused. “I thought you said Broughan was coming out tomorrow?”

“He is. Turns out Vann Hoffman is the door-opener. I mentioned that I’d heard of Broughan through Vann. Guess he’s just as hot for Doctor Feelgood as the good doc is for him.”

“No shit!” Ronan burst out laughing.

“Now get out of here. Both of you. I don’t want to see either of you until Tuesday unless it’s off the clock. Got it?” Fitzgibbon’s tone brooked no argument.

“Yes, sir,” Ronan shook his head. He would obey the captain’s order, but it still didn’t sit right with him.

 

 

37
Tennyson

“There has to be something we can do,” Ronan said for the tenth time since they left Captain Fitzgibbon’s office.

“Don’t listen to Uncle Ronan, pretty girl. He’s lost his fool head.” Tennyson pressed a kiss to Bertha’s forehead. The infant swatted at his face with her chubby hand.

They were sitting around the large patio table in Carson and Truman’s backyard. Tennyson was playing kissy-face with Bertha while Ronan held a dozing Brian. Carson was in the house changing Stephanie’s diaper. Truman was manning the grill.

“Ten, I’m serious,” Ronan whined.

“I know you are.” Ten sighed and tried to force the frustration he felt for Ronan aside. “Look, I know how much you care about this case and those kids, but if the captain says we have to sit tight, then we have to sit tight. If you go and do something foolish you don’t only put the case in jeopardy, you put your badge on the line too.”

“Afraid you’ll be stuck with me at the Magick shop if I get suspended or canned?” Ronan laughed.

It would be a fate worse than death if Ronan couldn’t be a cop. “Don’t even say words like that out loud. Let’s not tempt fate.” Tennyson bounced Bertha on his lap. “Let’s just do what the captain said and concentrate on having a great weekend together.” Ten pressed a gentle kiss to Ronan’s lips. “Our talk the other night before you, uh, s-p-a-n-k-e-d me brought us closer together than we’ve ever been. Let’s build on that.”

Ronan snorted. “Why are you spelling? Bertha is only three months old.”

“I don’t want to be the reason she ends up in therapy.” Tennyson laughed.

“I want that night to be something for us to build on Ten, I really do.” Ronan’s blue eyes were sincere.

“Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?” A ripple of unease shot through Tennyson’s body.

“Because there is a but coming.”

“Jesus Christ, Ronan, what did you do?” Tennyson felt his heart start to pound in his chest. He didn’t know why he didn’t feel this vibe coming off Ronan before. It must have been Bertha and Brian’s pure auras surrounding him, but now that he focused on it, he could feel Ronan’s anxiety.

“Hey, guys! Look who I found!” Carson stepped out onto the patio carrying Stephanie who was babbling. Behind them was Captain Fitzgibbon who looked ready to go nuclear at any second.

“Hey, Kevin!” Truman waved from the grill. “Rib-eyes are coming off in a few minutes. Got plenty if you have time to join us.”

“There’s going to be extra after I kill my best detective,” Fitzgibbon all but growled.

“Oh good! Front row seats!” Carson cooed to Stephanie. “What did Detective Dumbass do this time?”

“Swear jar, babe!” Truman called out.

“Did I or did I not tell you not to contact the media about our serial killer, Ronan?” Fitzgibbon’s voice was quiet, but filled with rage, nonetheless.

“Jesus, Ronan, you didn’t.” But Tennyson already knew that he had. He could read his lover like a book.

“So, I sent an anonymous email.” Ronan shrugged. “I made sure to stress the danger the street kids were in. I knew the media would eat that line up. I got them to do our work for us, cap. They can fan out over the city and protect those kids.” Ronan stood up with a sleeping Brian still cradled in his arms. “You don’t get it. This psycho is targeting us.” Ronan used his free arm to gesture to Ten, Carson and Truman. You’re not gay, so you don’t get it. This is personal for me. I can’t let one more kid die while we sit on our hands.”

Fitzgibbon’s eyes narrowed on Ronan before sliding down to the sleeping baby in his arms. The captain slid a finger down his face. He took a deep breath. “Just because I’m not sucking face in public and flying my rainbow flag from the tallest pole doesn’t mean I’m not gay, detective.” He pulled out a chair at the patio table and took a seat. “I’m the captain of this unit for a reason. Did you ever stop to think what the killer would do if he were outed?  Before you sent your anonymous email, he was in control. He had a plan and he was executing it. Now, thanks to your stunt, he’s going to feel like he’s on the run. These guys are like cornered wild animals when they lose the illusion of control, Ronan.”

Carson set a bottle of water in front of Fitzgibbon and patted his shoulder before taking the seat next to him and handing the startled captain his infant daughter.

“Hello, pretty,” Fitzgibbon cooed. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, Carson. You think I won’t kill Ronan if I’m holding your baby.”

“She’s a calming presence. Isn’t she?” Carson suggested.

“Maybe,” Fitzgibbon grumbled, thumping his finger against the tip of her nose.

Stephanie squealed and reached out to grab it.

“Let’s eat.” Truman set a platter of steaming steaks on the table. “Babe, will you grab the pasta salad and chips.”

“Sure thing, chicken wing.” Carson kissed Truman hard on the lips and dashed off into the house.

Tennyson set Brian and Bertha in one of the pack-and-plays set up near the table before sitting in the chair on the other side of the Captain. “That was one hell of a way to come out, Kevin.”

The captain shrugged. “My family has known for years. Guess I just felt like I had friends I could trust enough to tell.”

“That include me, cap?” Ronan asked shyly.

“Oh, no.” Fitzgibbon smiled with glee. “I’m still gonna kill you after dinner. At least Greeley was sleeping when I left. Christ, I’ve never been this angry in my life.”

“Now that’s not true!” Ronan laughed. He speared a steak with his fork and set it on Tennyson’s plate before doing the same with Fitzgibbon and then himself. “When we first sat you down and told you what was happening to these gay teens, you were livid.”

“Here we go.” Carson set the food on the table. “What did I miss?” He scooped Stephanie out of the captain’s arm and set her in the play area with her brother and sister.

“Kevin’s going to kill Ronan after dinner,” Truman said, before digging into the pasta salad.

“Ohh, dinner theater! Well, I suppose we should have seen that coming. Eat up, Ronan. Who knew this would be your last supper.” Carson laughed.

“Funny,” Ronan muttered around his mouthful of steak.

Tennyson took a deep breath and started to relax. He was surrounded by good friends and good food. At least the truth was out now and Ronan’s boss didn’t seem like he was going to suspend him over him alerting the media to the serial killer. Maybe things would be all right after all.

Fitzgibbon was reaching for a second helping of the pasta salad when his phone rang. “Pray this isn’t the commissioner, calling about your stunt, Ronan.” He pulled his phone out and instantly his body relaxed. “Just the rehab center. Fitzgibbon,” he answered.

Thank Christ… Tennyson took a deep breath. They were probably just calling with an update on Greeley.

“What?” Fitzgibbon’s voice boomed, startling all three babies who started to cry. “What do you mean he’s gone?”

Ronan shot Tennyson a scared look.

“Put the unit on lockdown. Call the Swampscott police. I’ll be there in five minutes. Jesus Fucking Christ, find my son!” Fitzgibbon pressed the end button on his phone. “Greeley’s gone. The attendant went to give him his 6pm meds and he wasn’t in his room or in the bathroom. They claim they did a thorough check of the facility and he’s nowhere to be found. His pajamas were on the floor of his room.”

“Do you think he ran away?” Ronan was chewing on his bottom lip.

“No, I don’t. He was committed to getting clean. To starting over. To being my son. He trusts me enough to start calling me Dad, for God’s sake. I just don’t-” Fitzgibbon was interrupted by the text jingle on all of their phones going off at once.

“Sweet Jesus,” Tennyson gasped as he opened the text from an anonymous number. It was a video of Greeley. The boy was hogtied and blindfolded. He appeared to be in the trunk of a car. He was screaming for Fitzgibbon. “DAD? Don’t let him take me! Help me, Daaa-” The video ended with the trunk being slammed shut on his scream and someone laughing maniacally.

 

 

 

38
Ronan

This was all his fault. His entire body was vibrating with fear and anger. All Ronan could think about were the captain’s earlier words about the killer having a plan and being in control and Ronan with his email to the media ruining whatever plan that had been. Ronan had taken away the killer’s control and in return, the killer had taken Greeley.

“Jesus Christ,” Fitzgibbon sunk his head into his hands. “That motherfucker told Greeley that he’d be back, that he’d get him, and now he’s got him. He’s got my boy.” Panic filled his green eyes.

“It’s going to be okay, Kevin.” Carson sat on the sofa beside him with an arm around his shoulder.

After the video of the kidnapping had come through, the party had moved indoors. Truman had set the home security system and Ronan had called the Salem Police asking them to send a radio car to sit on the house until Greeley was found.  They were waiting for that unit to respond now.

The babies, none the worse for wear, were enjoying tummy time on the living room floor. Sadie, Truman’s Yorkshire Terrier was watching over them.

“Are you seeing something that tells you that, Carson? Or are you just trying to make me feel better?” Fitzgibbon’s voice was strained.

“The latter, unfortunately. My spirit guides are quiet and the only people here are the ones with a pulse. Ten, are you getting anything?”

“No.” Ten shook his head. “I’m trying to pick up on Greeley. Since we met and I shook his hand, I’m trying to focus on his energy, but I’m not getting anything. Ronan, we need to go out to the rehab facility. I might be able to get a better signal if we go there and I can be where he was.”

“You sound like you’re a bloodhound,” Fitzgibbon said with no laughter in his voice.

“Energy works a little like scent,” Tennyson answered.

“We’ll go as soon as that patrol car gets here. I’m not leaving Truman and his family unprotected.” Ronan didn’t think the killer was ballsy enough to show up here, especially not since he had the perfect hostage in Greeley. He knew damn well that was going to get everyone’s attention, which was obviously his goal. If he’d wanted to kill the boy, he could have done that in the rehab facility and slipped away unnoticed. There was definitely a final act the killer had in mind. “He’s back in control,” Ronan muttered.

“What?” Fitzgibbon asked.

“You said earlier that me alerting the media changed the rules of his game and took away his control. Well, he’s got it back now.”

“No thanks to you!” Fitzgibbon was halfway across the room, his hands balled into fists, before he seemed to realize what he was doing. He backed away and sat back down beside Carson.

“Cops are here,” Truman said from the front door.

“You’re going to be safe now.” Ronan put a hand on Truman’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

Truman hugged Ronan. “Go find Greeley. We’re fine here.”

Ronan ran out the front door, leaving Truman and Carson to explain everything to the Salem Police. He had no doubt the captain would also get his point across before following them over to Hope by the Sea.

He hopped into the Mustang and gunned the engine. Ronan was about to honk for Tennyson when he ran out of the house and got into the front seat.  “The captain was talking to the officers. He’ll be along in a few minutes.”

Ronan pulled out into the street. His hands were shaking on the steering wheel. “Are you getting anything about this, Ten? Anything at all?”

“No, nothing. The good thing is that I don’t see Greeley. Not that he would necessarily know to come to me if he were…”

“Jesus Christ, this is all my fault.” That one line was playing over and over in his mind on a loop.

“Calm down, Ronan. Don’t say that. When Kevin and I met with Greeley, he was completely freaked out. He told us that the killer vowed to come back for him and finish the job. This could have been the killer’s plan all along.”

“What if, by going to the media, I accelerated the plan?” Ronan was the one freaking out now. He’d gotten what he’d wanted by making sure all of the street kids were safe for the night. If the killer was busy with Greeley, then he wasn’t out hunting one of them. But, God almighty, if something happened to the boy, to Fitzgibbon’s son, God fucking help him.

“None of that matters now. All we can do is find Greeley and get him back to Fitzgibbon safely.”

Ronan nodded, turning his full attention to the road. The last thing they needed was for him to miss a turn and crash the car. He tried to practice the deep breathing techniques he’d learned during his time in rehab, but it wasn’t helping. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer.

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up in front of Hope by the Sea. There were cops everywhere. Blue and white lights were flashing, their reflections were bouncing off the windows of the building and on the ocean waves breaking on the beach across the street.

Ronan flashed his badge and was allowed to pass through the line of cops milling around the entryway. He and Tennyson were led to the room that Greeley had been staying in. Knowing Ten needed a few minutes to get his bearings and focus on Greeley’s energy, he stayed off to the side and kept his mouth shut.

He watched while Tennyson walked slowly around the room. There was a hospital bed in the middle with an IV stand off to the left. A wheeled table with the remains of Greeley’s dinner was left next to the bed. Ronan noticed a paperback copy of Moby Dick with the queen of hearts as a bookmark along with several Zane Grey novels sat in a pile near a chair in the corner. A grey fleece throw was folded neatly over the back. Ronan surmised that must be where Fitzgibbon sat when he was here with Greeley.

The only clue that anything was wrong was the discarded pajamas lying on the floor near the foot of the bed. Even with his trained detective’s eye, there wasn’t much to go on.

“From what I can tell, Greeley was having his dinner.” Ten pointed to the barely touched tray of what looked like Salisbury steak. “He was watching television when the killer came in dressed as a doctor.”

Ronan shook his head. “How the hell do you know that?” He wasn’t one to question Tennyson’s abilities, but there were no clues in this room that would suggest that at all.

“Fear imprints on a place much stronger than love or joy. The man told Greeley to get dressed, that they were leaving. He complied at first, figuring the man was a doctor, but then part way through getting his street clothes on, he figured out what was going on and tried to resist.” Tennyson stepped over to the small dresser over by the bathroom door. “Here is where the residual fear is the strongest. The killer produced a syringe of meth and threatened to shoot Greeley up with it if he didn’t come quietly.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ronan sighed.

“That was how he got Greeley out of here without a fight. He didn’t want to go back on his sobriety and his promise to Fitzgibbon.”

“Is there anything else, Ten? Can you tell who took him?” Ronan’s felt his anxiety ratchet up. His heart was pounding so hard, he could feel it in his toes.

“I’m not getting anything else. I’m sorry.” Tennyson shook his head.

“Sorry about what? What’s going on?” Fitzgibbon tore into the room. His breathing was harsh, his green eyes wide with terror.

“Tennyson was able to figure out what happened in this room but doesn’t know who took Greeley or where they are now.” Ronan was trying to keep his voice steady, but his own fear was starting to overwhelm him.

Fitzgibbon’s face went pale and his knees started to buckle. Ronan grabbed him and with Tennyson’s help pulled him over to the chair. “What if we can’t find him in time? What if that sick son-of-a-bitch finishes what he started?”

“That’s not going to happen,” Ronan said, not sure at all of the killer’s game plan. “He sent us a video of Greeley’s kidnapping. He wants to taunts us, captain. He’ll be back in touch.” Christ, this was the first time he’d seen his boss looking helpless and afraid. He couldn’t help feeling partially responsible.

Fitzgibbon grabbed Ronan’s hand. “Find my son, Ronan. That’s an order.”

Ronan wrapped his free arm around Fitzgibbon’s shoulder and did the one thing a cop is never supposed to do. “I will, cap. I promise I’ll find him and bring him home safe.”

 

 

 

39
Tennyson

“What if they’re at the Beach Inn?” Tennyson asked when Fitzgibbon had gotten himself back under control. “That’s where this killer takes all of his victims, to…” Ten trailed off not wanting to describe to the captain what Greeley might be going through right now.

“Captain, do we have any undercover vice officers sitting on the hotel?” Ronan couldn’t remember if Captain Sullivan had agreed to put officers on the hotel with this being Memorial Day weekend and all.

“I’m not sure. I never heard back from Sully. He had a 3pm tee time or something.” Fitzgibbon dug out his phone and made a call. “Straight to fucking voicemail. Must be nice to be off the clock like that.” He sighed, running his free hand through his dark hair.

“We should head out there now,” Ronan suggested. “If we call in the cavalry that could spark a response we don’t want from this guy. Like the captain said earlier, this animal has a game plan.”

“Then shouldn’t we wait for it to play out? We pissed him off once and he took Greeley. He might kill him if we break the rules again.” Fitzgibbon looked back and forth between Ronan and Tennyson. All of the professional bearing of the police captain was gone. Sitting before them now was a terrified father.

Tennyson didn’t want to say it out loud, but he had a feeling the end game here was to kill Greeley, regardless. From the reading he’d done, serial killers didn’t like to leave unfinished business.

“There are other hotels near the Beach Inn on Route 1A. Why don’t we drive out there and park in the lot of another hotel and approach on foot?” Ronan suggested. “On the way out there, we can call into dispatch and see if there are units assigned to the hotel.”

“I’m coming with you.” Fitzgibbon stood up and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

“No, cap.” Ronan set a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think that’s the best idea right now. You’re thinking like a scared parent, not like cop. Let Ten and I handle this. If we need backup, we’ll call for it. I promise you we won’t do anything stupid that would put Greeley into more danger.”

“Damn it, Ronan. He’s my son!” Tears formed in his misty green eyes.

“I know he is, Kevin.” Tennyson picked up his hand and squeezed it tight. “This state of mind isn’t going to help him now. You know that. Go back to Truman’s house. Let me and Ronan take care of this. I won’t be able to use my gift as effectively if I’m worried about you. Okay?”

Kevin swiped at his tears, but nodded. “Okay. Promise me you’ll keep me in the loop. I want to know every move you’re making before you make it. Got it? I’m still you’re boss even though I’m on the bench.”

Ronan nodded. Relief flooded his blue eyes. “Got it, cap. Same goes for you. If this asshole contacts you, let us know immediately. Don’t play the hero. I think this fucker is the type to taunt you. He made that obvious with his first video.”

Fitzgibbon nodded. “You find my boy and you bring him back safe.” He looked back and forth between Ronan and Tennyson.

Ronan nodded. Tennyson hugged Fitzgibbon before rushing out the room after Ronan. He offered a silent prayer that they could both keep that promise.

The car was running by the time Tennyson got back outside. It was nearly a forty-minute drive back to Revere and they had no idea how much of a head start the killer had on them. Granted they had the time stamp of when the video had been sent to them as a jumping off point, but that video could have been shot long before it had been sent to everyone. Fitzgibbon had been at Truman’s house for at least half an hour before the video came through. For all they knew, the killer could have slipped into the rehab right after Fitzgibbon walked out.

“I just got off the phone with dispatch. There is no one from vice covering the motel.” Ronan’s voice sounded grim.

Tennyson shut the door and put on his seatbelt before Ronan tore out of the parking lot. “How is that possible? Fitzgibbon requested men to sit on the motel in case Jacobson came back with another teenage boy to sell.”

“Holiday weekend. Guys had requested time off. Tight budget and the department not wanting to pay double time.” Ronan shrugged.

“That doesn’t make any sense. You uncovered a child trafficking ring and they don’t want to investigate it because it’s a friggen three-day weekend?” Tennyson was shouting. “Barbecues and golf are more important than gay teenagers being raped and beaten by men who can afford to pay for the privilege?”

“I know, Ten.” Ronan set a hand on his lover’s thigh. “I wish there was more we could do about it, but at the moment, the fact that there aren’t undercover cops sitting on the Beach Inn might be the only thing we have going in our favor.”

“What do you mean?” How could there possibly be anything in their favor at the moment?

“This killer is savvy enough to spot undercover cops. If he’d seen any kind of action at the motel, he would have had to go to plan B with where to take Greeley and then we’d be truly fucked. These killers are precise with what they do and if one thing is out of place, it makes them feel like they are out of control. It would have been bad for Greeley if the killer couldn’t take him to the Beach Inn.”

“Can’t we just say it’s Jacobson?” Tennyson was certain it was the cocky newspaperman. Why were they still dancing around his name?

“What if it isn’t, Ten? Joey told us that Jacobson pimps boys at the Beach Inn. What if Jace Lincoln is one of his customers? Just because Joey didn’t recognize his picture doesn’t mean he isn’t a regular there. The kid said he never sees the johns. He only sees Jacobson.  Hell, at this point, the killer could be any one of the johns who pays for sex at that motel.”

“Oh God,” Ten sighed. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“You just have a hard-on for Jacobson.”

“Maybe I do,” Tennyson admitted. “I don’t even know why I do, aside from the fact that he’s hot for you. I mean, why would an obviously brilliant man with a genius-level IQ do something like this? Why would he rape and kill teenage boys? He’s handsome enough, I suppose, if you go for the suave, cocky type. A guy like that could have a different date every night of the week in a city like Boston.”

“Mental illness isn’t logical, Ten. Look at you. You grew up in a home with more religion than understanding. With more hate than love, and somehow you managed to overcome that and make something out of your life. You’re a kind and loving and a man of honor. Not every person raised like you were would be able to rise above those circumstances.”

Tennyson was about to agree with Ronan’s assessment when the text jingle on both of their phones sounded. “Oh Christ,” Ten muttered when he fished his phone out of his pocket and saw that the message was from the same unknown number that had sent the video of Greeley in the trunk of a car.

“What is it? Another video?”

“Yeah. Pull over and we’ll watch it together.” Tennyson’s stomach started doing backflips.

Ronan did as Tennyson asked and when the car was in park, Ten hit the play button on his phone. “Daaaad?” Greeley’s scared voice filled the car. The boy was tied spread-eagle to a bed. His left eye was blacked and swollen shut. Various other bruises dotted his upper chest. Thankfully, he was only visible from the ribcage up. “Say it,” a voice angry-whispered from off-camera.

“No, you twisted piece of shit!” Greeley shouted, before his face contorted and he screamed in pain. “Dad! I thought you were a better cop than this.” Greeley panted, sucking in a lungful of air. “You should have found me by now. Every minute you make him wait is another cut.” A hand holding a knife appeared and sliced Greeley’s ribcage. Bright red blood trickled out. “Dad, please!” Greeley pleaded before the video ended.

“Oh, my God.” Tennyson blinked back tears. “That poor boy. Ronan, we need to get back on the road.”

“I know who it is, Ten. I know who the killer is.” Ronan’s voice was filled with ice and determination.

“You do? How?” Tennyson had just seen everything Ronan had seen and even his gift wasn’t offering any additional clues.

“The hand. The hand that was holding the knife. I’ve seen that hand, those fingers. They touched mine.” Ronan’s entire body shivered.

Tennyson’s mind cast back to the interview back at the precinct with Rod Jacobson when he caressed Ronan’s hand after Ronan had lied to him and said that he’d broken up with Ten. “Jesus Christ, it is Jacobson.”

Ronan nodded curtly and pulled back onto the highway.

“We’ve got to call Fitzgibbon. He needs to know what we know.” Tennyson’s finger was poised over the captain’s phone number.

“Not yet. We don’t have any news to give him yet. He’s probably still losing his mind over that video. Let Truman and Carson take care of him and get him calmed down,” Ronan said.

“Shit, should we call them and make sure Kevin’s okay?” Tennyson asked. “Do you think he flew out of the house when he got the video? I know I would have.”

“The captain promised to let us handle it. He’ll keep his word.” Ronan didn’t sound entirely sure of his words.

“Yeah, but he’s a father. The way that Greeley was screaming. I wouldn’t have been able to sit still and do nothing.” Ten’s blood still felt frozen in his veins over the sound of Greeley’s screams.

“We’re here.” Ronan pulled the car into the Days Inn a quarter of a mile down the street from the Beach Inn, parking the car behind the motel, presumably to keep it out of sight. A candy-apple red 1968 Mustang wasn’t the easiest car to hide.

“What’s our play? I mean, Jacobson is going to be on the lookout for us, right?” Tennyson was chewing his bottom lip.

“Well, Nostradamus, that’s where you come in. I’m hoping you’ll be able to use your gift to guide us up to the room.” Ronan waggled his eyebrows at him and popped the trunk. He pulled out a bulletproof vest and slipped it over Tennyson’s head. “It’s my fault we never had you measured for one of these.” Ronan pulled the Velcro tabs as tight across Tennyson’s chest as was possible. “These things are made to measure and since you’re not only shorter than me, but not as broad-chested, it doesn’t fit as well as it should. Guess we just have to hope that Jacobson can’t shoot as well as he can write.” Ronan snorted and pulled his back-up vest out of the trunk and slipped it on.

“That isn’t funny, Ronan.” Tennyson’s heart was pounding. He’d never been more scared in his life.

Ronan’s grin sobered instantly. “I know it isn’t, babe. I was hoping to keep you calm before we head over there. Look, we don’t have a SWAT, or a hostage response team. It’s just the two of us. Me with twelve years of on the job instincts and you with your gift. Did any of the boys know which room in the hotel they’d been kept in?”

Tennyson shook his head. “No and we never thought to ask Greeley either. He’s going to keep using the same room since it’s part of his routine, right?”

“Yeah. Since he missed out on killing Greeley the first time, he’s going to make doubly sure everything goes right this time.” Ronan pulled out his gun and clicked off the safety.

“The only difference this time is with the taunting.” Tennyson found that aspect especially cruel.

“The dirty bastard knows he’s caught. This is his end game. He knows he’s going down and his plan is to take as many of us down with him as possible. It’s why we’re in the vests and why I insisted that Fitzgibbon stay home. An emotional cop makes mistakes. There’s no room for that when a suspect has nothing left to lose and he’s looking to take you out with him.”

“Is that why we don’t have backup?” The last thing Tennyson wanted to do was question Ronan’s decisions, but he was wondering why they hadn’t called in some form of backup.

Ronan nodded. “If Jacobson sees that’s he’s surrounded and that there truly is no way out or no way for him to get a shot off at me or you or the cap, he’ll kill Greeley before we can get to him. That’s the last thing we want.”

Ten took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s do it.” Tennyson followed behind Ronan as they headed behind the Days Inn toward the Beach Inn. Thankfully, there was no fence separating the properties. He could see there were about thirty cars in the parking lot and about fifteen units that had lights on.

“Do you have any idea which unit they’re in?” Ronan whispered.

Tennyson closed his eyes and tried to focus in on Greeley’s energy. “One-Thirteen,” Tennyson whispered. “Are you kidding me?”

“Up until now it’s been lucky for him. We’re going up the left side stairs. Stay behind me. Tap my shoulder if there’s something you need to tell me. Put your phone on silent. We don’t want to let him know we’re here until I want him to know. Okay?”

Reaching for his phone, Tennyson switched it to silent. When he looked up, Ronan was staring at him with a tender look in his eyes. “What is it?”

“I love you, Tennyson Grimm. I’ve never come right out and said the words before, but I do. I love you with my entire soul.” He picked up Ten’s hand and brushed a kiss across the back of his knuckles.

Ten couldn’t help but wonder if this was goodbye, just in case something crazy happened when they confronted Jacobson. He shook his head. It didn’t do to think like that. Ronan always told him that foremost in a cop’s training was to go home at the end of their shift. That’s exactly what he and Ronan were going to do when this was over. They were going to go home together. “I love you too, Ronan. Now, let’s get this motherfucker so he can’t ever hurt one of us ever again.” He kissed Ronan hard, sealing his vow with a promise of things to come.

 

 

 

40
Ronan

As Ronan crept up the stairs, his senses were all on high alert. He was also praying that the people in their motel rooms wouldn’t decide now was a good time to refill their ice buckets or run out for a pack of smokes. If they’d had more time, they would have been able to evacuate the motel, but there was no way to do that now and not alert Jacobson that they were here.

He stopped outside room One-Fifteen to check in with Tennyson. “Are you sensing anything?”

“Greeley is still alive. He’s in a lot of pain, but he’s alive. Jacobson is fucking with his head, but hasn’t raped him.” Ten was taking shallow breaths through his mouth and looked like he was going to throw up.

“I need you to take some deep breaths, Ten. I don’t need you passing out on me now. Okay?” Ronan breathed with him, all the while keeping his eyes trained on door number thirteen. “What are you getting on Jacobson? Can you read him at all?” The last time Ten had tried to read the Pulitzer Prize winning author, there had been no sign of the serial killer within him.

Tennyson’s face was a mass of confusion. “It’s not Jacobson.” He shot Ronan a look of disbelief.

“It has to be him. I saw his hand in the video. That is his hand, Ten. I’d bet my life on it.” What the hell was going on here? Ronan shook his head.

“Jesus, twins? Like the Rebecca Tyler case?” Tennyson whispered.

That wasn’t possible. When Ronan had done a background check on Jacobson there was nothing in his past indicating that he was a twin. Unless of course Jacobson wasn’t his real name. Or… “Multiple personalities?”

“What?” Tennyson asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Have you ever read someone with multiple personality disorder?” Was multiple personalities even a real thing? Ronan knew it was a popular theme on television and in novels, but was it a real mental illness? Or was it possible to wall part of your psyche off from the rest of your consciousness and only bring it out at certain times?

Ten shook his head. “I’ve heard of the condition, but I’ve never read anyone with it before. Do you think that’s why I don’t think the guy in the room with Greely is actually Jacobson?”

“Yeah, I think that’s it exactly. Stay here. I’m going to try to peek in the window. Get us a firm ID on the asshole who’s got the kid and what’s going on in the room.”

Ten reached out and grabbed Ronan’s arm. “If it is Jacobson, what are you going to do, knock on the door and pretend to be the pizza guy?”

To be honest, Ronan hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. He was making this up as he went along. Should he kick down the door? Try to reason with Jacobson? Call the captain like he promised? Greeley’s life was hanging in the balance here. He couldn’t afford to fuck this up. “I’m not sure. Let me peek through the window and then we’ll figure it out.”

“Be careful,” Tennyson cautioned.

Nodding, Ronan headed past room fourteen and continued on toward thirteen. He pressed his ear against the door and couldn’t hear anything. There was no sound at all. No television was on and there were no sounds of distress coming from Greeley. He couldn’t hear Jacobson taunting the boy either. Ronan crouched down and tried to get a look inside the room from between the curtains which were pulled tight.

He caught a glint of light coming from where the two panels of the curtains joined and shuffled over on his knees to try to get a look inside. When he got close enough, he could see someone sitting in a chair by the bed, holding a gun in his hands. Before he had time to react, the gun came up and fired a shot. The glass shattered, showering down on Ronan’s head. He was okay, but could feel himself bleeding. More worrisome than his small cuts was the attention the gun shot and breaking glass was bound to attract.

“Don’t move, detective.” Rod Jacobson’s voice came from inside the room. “I’m so glad you decided to join me for my final act.”

“Is Greeley all right?” Ronan shifted around so he was sitting on his backside, with his head below the window frame. He looked over at Tennyson who was wearing a terrified expression. He shot his lover a thumbs up. Under the circumstances, it was all he could think to do.

From his position on the floor, he could see terrified hotel guests poking their heads out of their hotel room doors. Ronan could see Tennyson motioning them back inside.

“Oh, the brat is fine… for now!” Jacobson sounded positively cheerful.

“I need to hear that he’s okay, Rod. I can’t try to negotiate for any of your demands until I know Greeley is okay.” All that mattered right now was buying time. One of the nosy Nellies who’d poked their heads out of their doors after the gun shot and the shattered glass had to call 9-1-1. With any luck, the cavalry would be on their way soon enough.

Ronan knew Jacobson was armed, but he had no idea how many weapons, aside from the gun and the knife he’d seen in the video, were in the room. With the curtains billowing in the light breeze, there was no clear line of sight into the room.

“I’m okay,” Greeley’s week voice came through the window. “Is my Dad here?”

Shit, Ronan hadn’t anticipated that question. Did Jacobson want Fitzgibbon here? “No, Greeley. It’s just me.”

“Of course, it’s just you.” Jacobson’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Detective Ronan O’Mara, hero and savior.”

“What do you want, Jacobson? Let the boy go and we can talk man to man.”

“What I really want is that psychic of yours! He’s the one to blame for all of this!” Jacobson roared.

“Tennyson?” Ronan tried to sound surprised. The last thing he was going to do was turn Tennyson over to this mad man.

“Yes, Tennyson. Don’t act so fucking innocent, detective. He’s the one who ruined all of this before my work was done.”

“I’ll tell you what, Jacobson, you let Greeley go, and I’ll call Tennyson. Get him down here so that you can confront him. How’s that sound?”

“I’m not fucking stupid, Ronan! I managed to rape and kill over a dozen teenagers without anyone knowing about it and you think I’m dumb enough to let this one go without someone to replace him?” Jacobson laughed.

Christ, he sounded like he’d gone all the way off the deep end. “Fine, then trade Greeley for me.”

 

 

41
Tennyson

Tennyson thought Ronan was managing things just fine until his crazy lover offered to trade places with Greeley. He’d almost screamed out, “NO!” But at the last minute remembered Ronan’s admonition to keep quiet. Right now, Jacobson didn’t even know Tennyson was here.

“I have to kill him, Ronan. You don’t understand.” Jacobson shouted.

“Kill who, Tennyson?” Ronan’s voice was level and calm.

Tennyson knew better though. He could feel the anxiety and terror radiating off Ronan’s body.

“Greeley! He’s the one who got away! I have to kill him. He needs to die!”

There was a howl from inside the room. Tennyson felt the slashing pain in his left leg as if Jacobson were cutting him instead of Greeley.

“Tell me why, Jacobson. Why does the boy have to die? Why did any of them have to die?”

“Jace Lincoln!” Jacobson shrieked. “That rich bastard,” Jacobson sneered.

Ronan shook his head. That made no sense. “What does Jace have to do with this?”

“I worked with him a lot during my first article about the street kids. Got to know him. He’s nice, rich. He’s husband material. I stopped fucking around. Stopped dating, stopped everything. Started wooing him. Started hanging out at his shitty shelter. Started donating money, time, food. You name it, I did it. We had dinner, went to the movies, then, when it was time to make my move. He fucking turned me down. Said he wasn’t interested. I know men, Ronan. I knew he was fucking interested!”

Ronan looked over at Tennyson who was wiping tears from his cheeks. “So, you started raping and killing kids from his shelter to pay him back for turning your down?”

“Started pimping them out too!” Jacobson crowed triumphantly.

“Was it your plan to set Lincoln up to take the fall for your crimes?” Ronan’s voice was starting to shake.

“He actually fucking called me after you brought him in for questioning. Wanted to cry on my shoulder. Kissed me and everything. Told me he wished things could be different. Asshole bastard!” Jacobson roared.

“Did he tell you why things couldn’t be different, Rod?” Ronan called back. He got up on his knees and started moving toward the motel room door.

“He’s too good for me. Conceited prick with his Harvard education.”

“No, that’s not why.” Ronan almost felt sorry for Jacobson. Almost. But then he remembered what Justin Wilson’s remains had looked like in the morgue, what Dylan Charles looked like in Rumney Marsh and any sympathy he had for Jacobson vanished.

“How the fuck do you know, O’Mara? You fucking him now that you dumped your precious psychic?”

Ronan hesitated for a second, as if he were weighing the words he was about to say. “When I interviewed him at the precinct, Jace told me that his father won’t allow him to come out.”

“Won’t allow him to come out! What kind of fucking bullshit is that? The man is thirty years old. He’s free to live his own life!”

“No, he isn’t. The father gives the shelter five million dollars a year if Jace agrees to stay in the closet. If there’s so much of a hint that he’s gay, the contract they signed is void and the shelter loses the money.”

“That’s not true! That can’t be true!” Jacobson bellowed. “The father is dying! He’s got fucking cancer! He’s on his last legs. NO!”

That was information Tennyson didn’t have and didn’t give two shits about at the moment. He knew all Ronan cared about right now was getting Greeley out of that room safely.

“Rod, calm down. Let’s figure a way out of this. No one else has to get hurt. Let me into the room so I can see Greeley.”

“All I had to do was wait. Just a few more months and that shriveled up motherfucker will be dead. Jesus! Fuck!”

“Rod, listen to me. Are you listening? Throw your gun out through the window and unlock the door.”

“Fuck you, O’Mara!” Jacobson was weeping now.

Ronan scooted out from under the window and moved past the door. He held up a hand to hold Tennyson back before kicking the door in. The cheap locks gave way under his powerful kick and the door bounced off the wall. “Hands up, Jacobson. It’s over.” Ronan has his gun trained on the killer’s head.

Tennyson knew Ronan wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger if the other man moved one muscle.

“It’s not over, Ronan.” Jacobson smiled. “We’re pointing guns at each other. Who’s going to untie the boy?”

“Tennyson! Come in here!” Ronan yelled.

Ten took a deep breath and reached out with his gift. He didn’t get any kind of warning from his spirit guides, so he stuck his head around the corner of the room.

“Grab my army knife out of my pants and cut Greeley free.” Ronan kept his eyes on Jacobson the whole time. Kept his finger on the trigger.

Tennyson fished the knife out of Ronan’s pocket and quickly went to work cutting the ropes binding Greeley’s right hand and ankle to the bed. He hesitated for a moment before climbing on the bed and going for the ropes binding the teenager’s left limbs. He didn’t want to risk going anywhere close to Jacobson. If the man grabbed him, he’d be a hostage and he knew Ronan would kill the man to keep him safe.

Jacobson’s eyes flittered to Tennyson. His hand flinched on the gun.

“Don’t even think about it, asshole. You’ll be dead before you can pull the trigger. I guarantee it.” 

When the last rope was cut, Tennyson helped Greeley sit up and pulled the stoic boy into his arms. With strength he didn’t even know he possessed, Tennyson lifted the boy into his arms and ran out of the room with him.

Tennyson was nearing the staircase when he heard a blood-curdling scream.

 “GREELEY!” Fitzgibbon shouted.

A gunshot rang out. Then two more.

 

 

 

42
Ronan

Everything seemed to happen at the speed of light. Tennyson had run out of the room with Greeley cradled in his arms and what seemed like only seconds later, Fitzgibbon ran into the room shouting for his son.

Jacobson pulled the trigger and before Ronan had time to think twice about it, he fired twice hitting Jacobson in the head.

“Jesus Christ,” Fitzgibbon groaned.

Ronan turned and saw his captain on the floor, blood pouring out of a bullet wound. “Captain! Where are you hit?”

“Chest,” he managed to grit out.

“Ronan!” Tennyson yelled, running back into the room.

“I’m fine, Ten. Call 9-1-1!” Ronan pulled his shirt off and used it to apply pressure to Fitzgibbon’s wound.

“Greeley? Where’s my son?” Fitzgibbon’s voice was barely above a whisper. He reached his hand out.

“He’s with me. He’s fine,” Tennyson said before ducking back out of the room.

“I need to see him. What if…?”

“Don’t talk like that, cap. You’re going to be fine.” Ronan wasn’t so sure. Fitzgibbon was losing a lot of blood and the gunshot was very close to his heart.

“Dad?” Greeley ran back into the room. He slid to the floor and grabbed Kevin’s hand. “What happened. Are you gonna be okay?”

“My boy.” Fitzgibbon smiled. “Never forget how much I love you.”

“I love you too, Dad.” Greeley’s voice cracked. “Don’t leave me. We just found each other. We have to find out if Ahab gets the white whale.” Tears were pouring down the teenager’s face.

“I’m gonna be fine. Maybe you’ll have to read to me.” Kevin managed a small smile.

“Ambulance is on the way.” What can I do?” Tennyson asked.

“Pray,” Ronan said. He pushed harder on the wound when he noticed Kevin losing consciousness. “Stay with me, Kevin. Don’t close your eyes. Tell me what you and Greeley are going to do this summer.”

“Wants to learn to surf.” Fitzgibbon managed a small smile.

“I’m the worst surfer on the planet. I’d like to come watch you. Maybe I’ll learn something.” Ronan had never surfed a day in his life. He was just babbling to keep Kevin talking.

“Promise me you’ll keep Greeley safe, Ronan. If I don’t make it, promise me, you’ll…” Kevin’s eyes rolled back in his head.

“Dad!” Greeley shouted. “No, Dad! Stay with me! Don’t leave me!”

Ronan put his fingers to Fitzgibbon’s neck. His pulse was faint. He could hear the roar of sirens coming closer. “Ten, take Greeley downstairs to meet the ambulance. Tell them where we are. Make sure they tend to Greeley’s injuries too.”

Ten wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulder and led him out of the room. Greeley was still screaming for Fitzgibbon.

“Come on, cap. Don’t you leave me. You’re the only man stubborn enough to put up with my bullshit. You’re also the only captain open-minded enough to hire a psychic.” Ronan kept the pressure on the wound and prayed the paramedics would hurry the hell up.

Minutes later, Ronan heard the thump of heavy boots running toward him.

“Detective O’Mara?” came a shout.

“Here!” Ronan shouted back. “Help is here, cap. Hold on a little longer. Just a bit longer.”

Paramedics burst through the door. Ronan hopped back and let them do their job. One ripped Fitzgibbon’s shirt open while another set a backboard on the floor next to him.

“Load him up. Let’s go. Keeping pressure on the wound kept him alive for us to get here. Good job detective.”

“Which hospital?” Ronan asked.

“Boston Medical Center,” came the answer.

Ronan nodded as the paramedics ran out the door with Fitzgibbon.

Members of BPD swooped into the room next. “Detective O’Mara?” a man in a suit asked.

“Yes.” Ronan knew exactly what was coming. The suit was some higher up who wanted to talk to him about the shooting and take his gun while another internal affairs investigation was opened on him. He didn’t have the time, patience or energy to deal with this now. He needed to get to the hospital.

“I’m Lieutenant Louis from vice. I’m going to need to take your statement.” The Lieutenant looked to be about fifty years old, with salt and pepper hair and icy blue eyes. He didn’t look like he was in the mood to be here tonight. Ronan would guess he got pulled away from some barbecue to show up on-scene.

“That’s going to have to wait, lieutenant. In case you missed it, paramedics just ran out of this room with my captain who’s got a gunshot wound to the chest. His son, who that son-of-a-bitch,” Ronan pointed to the body of Rod Jacobson, “has now tried to kill twice, has been beaten and cut up to within an inch of his life. Before my captain lost consciousness, the last thing he said to me was to take care of his boy. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be at BMC with both of them.”

“Detective,” Lieutenant Louis grabbed Ronan’s arm. “This the serial killer the media’s been buzzing about all night?”

Ronan nodded. “He shot my captain and I shot him. It was a good shoot, sir.”

“I don’t doubt that it was. You mind if I come along to the hospital with you? Fitzgibbon and I go way back. Came out of the academy together.”

Ronan nodded and hurried out of the room. He flew toward the side stairs and could see Tennyson standing by a second ambulance and assumed those paramedics were treating Greeley. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he sprinted toward them.

“Ronan!” Tennyson ran into his arms. “Are you okay?” Not waiting for an answer, Tennyson hugged him tighter.

“I’m fine. How’s Greeley?”

“He lost his mind when the ambulance sped away with Kevin and he wasn’t allowed to go too. The paramedics shouted out that they were going to Boston Medical Center and these guys are headed to Beth Israel. It’s part of the reason we’re still here. Since Greeley’s injuries aren’t life threatening, I’d like to take him out of their care.”

Hugging Tennyson a bit tighter, Ronan pulled away and hurried over to the paramedic putting a bandage on a deep cut on Greeley’s leg. The boy was crying and begging to see his father.  “Excuse me, I’m Detective Ronan O’Mara. My partner tells me you plan on taking this boy to Beth Israel?”

The blond paramedic looked up from Greeley to nod. “That’s the hospital we’re assigned to. We can’t deviate from our plan.”

“Okay, well since his father was taken to BMC with a gunshot wound, that means I’m this boy’s guardian. What do I need to do to take him out of your care and take him with me to see his father?”

The paramedics blue eyes narrowed on Ronan. “There’s nothing you need to do. You can refuse medical treatment and take him wherever you want. I have to warn you though, his injuries are very severe and it’s my opinion that he’s detoxing from some kind of substance, most likely heroin.”

Ronan rolled his eyes and reached for his last shred of patience. “This boy was nearly killed by a mad man who just shot his father. I’m not taking him to a Red Sox game for fuck’s sake, we’re going to the hospital where they are treating his father. I will make sure he gets medical care there. Greeley was being treated for a methamphetamine addiction at Hope by the Sea, up on the North Shore, which started after his last encounter with this serial killer. Now, if you’d kindly get off your damn soap box and finish bandaging this boy up so we can get to the hospital?” Ronan crossed his arms over his chest.

The paramedic nodded and got back to work. Ten minutes later, the paramedics released Greeley and Tennyson helped him into the back of the Mustang before climbing into the back seat with him.

“Is my Dad going to be okay, Tennyson?” Greeley asked. His voice sounded so small and lost.

“I don’t know, but I’m praying that he will be. Your Dad has a lot of people who love him and I know they’re all praying too.”

“All of your friends? The other psychics? Dad told me all about them and how when I was better they’d be my family.”

Ronan found his first smile in hours. It warmed his heart that Fitzgibbon thought of himself as a member of their family and had been telling Greeley all about them. “We already are your family, Greeley.” Ronan just hoped that by the time this nightmare was over he would still be playing the role of favorite uncle and not father.

 

 

 

 

43
Tennyson

What Tom Petty said about waiting was right on. Tennyson was pacing around the small waiting room reserved for families with loved ones in surgery. In the two hours since Fitzgibbon had been brought in, the number of people in the small room had swelled.

At first it was just him and Ronan, but then more people started to trickle in. Truman, Carson, and Cole were the first to arrive. After that, the other members of the cold case unit showed up, along with Captain Davidson, Ronan’s captain when he worked homicide, and Lieutenant Louis from the crime scene. Tony and Carlie Abruzzi and the four boys they had taken in showed up after that, along with Mick O’Dwyer and his wife. Lastly, in walked Vann Hoffman.

Tennyson hadn’t wanted to mention it, but there were people in the room from the other side as well. Bertha Craig was standing off to the side with Ronan’s mother, Erin. Justin Wilson, Austin Roberts and Dylan Charles were also standing together. He was debating whether or not to tell Ronan about that, but figured now wasn’t the best time. The mothers were being very closed-mouthed about Captain Fitzgibbon’s condition and the teenagers didn’t seem to know what to do.

“What am I going to do about Greeley?” Ronan asked for the tenth time.

Since Fitzgibbon was his guardian, Ronan wasn’t allowed in the treatment room with the teen. “I don’t know, Ronan.” Ten rubbed his lover’s back. Hoping to soothe his frayed nerves.

“He’s alone and scared and one of us should be with him.” Ronan was shouting.

“What’s going on, Ronan?” Vann Hoffman joined them.

“The captain’s son was hurt pretty badly by the killer and since none of us are family, they won’t let us be in the treatment room while they fix him up,” Ronan half-whispered, looking embarrassed.

Vann narrowed his dark eyes. “Come with me. I have privileges at this hospital.”

“Yeah, but you’re a medical examiner.” Ronan looked confused.

“Do you want to stand here and argue or come with me?” Vann grinned.

“Come with you,” Ronan muttered, sounding like a petulant child.

Vann led him out of the room which left Tennyson alone with this thoughts for a minute. He couldn’t help thinking that this was the second time in the last three months that Ronan had almost been killed by a mad man. Granted, this time he’d been safe, but that didn’t mean that next time Ten wouldn’t be in the line of fire again like he’d been during the Michael Frye case.

Ten supposed all that mattered now was that Rod Jacobson wouldn’t be able to hurt any other teenage boys. His tally had been fourteen street kids. Ten could only pray that Kevin Fitzgibbon wouldn’t be added to the body count, when all was said and done.

“Hey,” Carson came up from behind him and hugged Tennyson tight when he turned around. “You okay?”

Ten shook his head. “All I can think about are Greeley and Kevin. How they just found each other and became a family and how it could all end here and now. Things like that shouldn’t happen, Carson. It just isn’t fair.”

“I know it isn’t fair.” Carson hugged him tighter. “Tru and I tried so hard to keep him from leaving our house. Jesus though, when that video came in of that sick bastard cutting Greeley, we couldn’t stop him from leaving. I tried texting you, but you never got back to me until it was all over. Not that there would have been anything you could have done to stop Kevin from charging into that room like an angry grizzly bear.”

“The motel had two sets of stairs. One on each side of the building. I was taking Greeley down the left-hand stairs, while Kevin had run up the right-hand stairs. We had parked behind a different motel so Jacobson wouldn’t see the car or our approach, but the captain threw all of his police training out the window in his effort to get to Greeley. He parked right in front of the motel and charged up the closest stairs. He’s so lucky Jacobson was a bad shot.”

“So, you’re saying that if he’d seen you and Greeley on the other stairs, he wouldn’t have charged into the room and wouldn’t have gotten…” Carson trailed off.

Ten nodded.

“I would have done the same thing. Truman and Cole too. If some asshole kidnapped any of our kids, we wouldn’t hesitate to die in order to save them.”

Tennyson shivered. He couldn’t help thinking back to his parents and the parents of the boys who had only been too eager to show their kids the door when they found out that their boys were gay. “I guess not all parents are born with that instinct.”

“Tennyson?” Truman came up behind them and pointed to the door. Ronan was escorting Greeley into the waiting room.

“Oh, thank God,” Ten hurried over to Greeley who looked exhausted but okay. “How is he?” Ten asked Ronan once Greeley was settled into a seat next to Carson.

“He’s the strongest kid I know.” Ronan’s face glowed with pride. “He needed dozens of stitches and he wouldn’t let the doctor give him so much as lidocaine for the pain. Told them no narcotics at all, then spent the entire time they were working on him telling the doctor and nurse how brave his father is. Jesus, Ten, if the cap doesn’t make it…”

“He will.” Tennyson slung an arm around Ronan’s shoulder. He had a feeling the captain was going to pull through and that feeling was a lot stronger now.

“How can you be so sure? Are you just being optimistic or are you getting a hint from the other side?” Ronan looked confused, but also like he was going to smile at the same time.

“I’m looking for Ronan O’Mara,” a doctor dressed in blue scrubs announced.

“I’m Ronan O’Mara.” He pulled away from Tennyson and reached a hand out to Greeley, who got up from his seat with Ten and Ronan.

“I’m Doctor Evan Benson, the surgeon who operated on Captain Fitzgibbon.”

“Did you save my Dad? Is he gonna be okay?” Greeley reached out for Tennyson’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

“It was touch and go for a while there. He lost a lot of blood. We were able to get the bullet out and he’s in ICU now. He’s going to be just fine.”

Greeley let out a sob and wrapped his arms around Ronan.

“When can we see him?” Ronan asked.

“Right now, if you like. Only a few of you at a time though. He’s still not completely out of the anesthesia yet.”

“How long will he have to stay in the hospital?” Tennyson asked.

“Only for a few days. After that he’ll be able to go home, if all goes well. He’s a healthy man, so I have no doubt that it will. He won’t be able to drive or go back to work for a few weeks, but once he’s cleared to return to work, he’ll be good as new.”

“Thank you, Doctor Benson.” Ronan shook the doctor’s hand, before turning back to Tennyson. “How did you know he was going to be okay, Ten?”

Tennyson burst out laughing. “Because your mother and Bertha Craig were giving me two thumbs up.”

“What? They were?” Ronan looked around the room as if he expected to see both women standing there.

Ten nodded. “They’ve been here waiting with us the whole time.”

“Thanks for keeping us waiting down to the wire, Mom.” Ronan rolled his eyes.

“They’re spirits, Ronan. Not all-knowing oracles.” Ten laughed.

“Can we go see my dad now?” Greeley asked. His green eyes glowed with happiness.

“You bet we can.” Ronan wrapped his arm around Greeley’s shoulder and led him out of the room.

Tennyson knew there would be a lot of questions that would need to be answered in the days and weeks to come. Ronan would be facing another Internal Affairs probe in the shooting death of Rod Jacobson, and he would have his own set of questions to answer and reports to file, but right now, all that mattered was reuniting father and son.

 

 

 

44
Ronan

Fitzgibbon’s surgeon had been right on the money. Five days after Kevin had been shot by Rod Jacobson, he’d been released from the hospital. Ronan had been the one to pick him up, but instead of dropping him off at his South Boston apartment, he’d dropped his grumpy cat captain off with Truman and Carson.

While Fitzgibbon had been in the hospital, Tennyson had taken over spending nights with Greeley in rehab. They hadn’t been reading Moby Dick, instead. Ten had been reading old copies of People Magazine. The teenager hadn’t wanted to go back to Hope by the Sea until Kevin was out of the hospital, but Tennyson with his soft touch had managed to talk the boy into returning the next morning.

For his part, Ronan had spent most of the last week with Internal Affairs. He’d known that was what was going to happen and he’d been prepared for it. Tennyson was going through the same series of interviews and they weren’t allowed to see each other during this time. It was all the same song and dance they’d both been through after the conclusion of the Michael Frye case.

The only difference this time was that Ronan wasn’t walking away with any demons. He actually felt like during the course of this investigation that he’d managed to exorcise a few of his old ones. He was the first person to admit he’d been completely fucked up by the way Josh had left and then divorced him. All of which was compounded by the confessions he’d later made about their lives together.

Ronan had sworn off love after their divorce, but Tennyson had been waiting for him right around the corner and though he was a stubborn man, he certainly was not a stupid one. It had taken him some time to figure out he was worthy of loving Ten. It had taken more time for him to figure out that he was capable of being in a real relationship where he would be responsible for talking through his emotions. Now that he was here, he was never looking back.

It had been a rough five days without seeing Tennyson. Internal Affairs was keeping them apart so they couldn’t coordinate their stories. The hold up this time was their not being able to speak with Fitzgibbon until he’d been given the all-clear by his doctors. Once they had his statement in the books, the shooting of Rod Jacobson had been ruled clean and Ronan was in the clear.

Truman and Carson were having a barbeque to get everyone back together as a family and to celebrate life. Ronan had a feeling that not everyone in attendance would be among the living.

The party was in full swing when he got there. He’d even remembered to bring a dessert, some kind of fruit tart.

“You finally made it!” Truman pulled him in for a hug.

“Got my final review from Internal Affairs. The shoot was ruled good and I’m back on the job.” It felt good saying it out loud. He couldn’t wait to tell Ten, who was sitting at the patio table with Carson and the captain. “How’s he doing?”

“Kevin?” Truman asked. “He’s frustrated by the fact that Carson and I wait on him hand and foot. He loves feeding the babies so we just tell him it’s an even trade off. He’s itching to be able to drive again and to get back to work. Carson of course gets his frustrations since he’s also taken a bullet for someone he loves…” Truman trailed off and bit his lip.

Ronan started to laugh. “That was a different story. Carson took a bullet because you were too damn stubborn to listen to his visions. What happened with Fitzgibbon was different.”

“Oh, ho! Look who’s all of a sudden defending psychics and what they see.” Truman laughed along with Ronan.

“Love changed me. What can I say.” Ronan meant every word he was saying. “Where’s Greeley?”

“He decided to stay at rehab. He’s out of detox now and into group therapy and he didn’t want to let his group down by being absent.”

“Wow. He’s one hell of a kid.”

Truman nodded. “We’ve all been going up there to visit him and Carson and I came to the same conclusion. Great kid who got a shitty break in life, but is now getting one hell of a second chance.”

“Speaking of second chances, I need to go kiss Ten’s lips off.” Ronan slapped Truman’s shoulder and headed off to where Tennyson and Carson were sitting with the captain. “Well, look who’s up and about!”

Fitzgibbon laughed. “I can see being cleared in your second IAB investigation in two years hasn’t changed you one bit, Ronan.”

“You were cleared?” Tennyson hopped out of his seat.

“Got my badge back this morning.” Ronan was all smiles as he pulled Tennyson into his arms. “Am I going to have my captain back too?”

“As soon as those God da- darned doctors clear me,” Fitzgibbon all but snarled.

“God darned?” Ronan laughed.

“Yeah, well, I owe the swear jar about a hundred grand, so I’m learning to watch my mouth, aren’t I, princess?” Kevin pressed a kiss to Bertha’s head.

“I’m glad you’re on the mend, cap. If you’ll excuse us. I have a man that I haven’t seen in days.” Ronan grabbed Tennyson’s hand and dragged him into the house.

Once they were out of sight of the others, he pulled Tennyson into his arms. “I missed you so much, babe.”

“I missed you too,” Ten agreed, wrapping his arms around Ronan.

Ronan pulled back to nuzzle Ten’s neck. His cock was already firming up and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to end up taking Tennyson against the kitchen counter. “Missed this too.” Ronan grinned against the hot skin of his lover’s neck.

“Ronan,” Ten sighed breathlessly, pushing lightly at Ronan’s shoulders. “Hold on.”

“What is it, babe? You want to run upstairs so we don’t get caught?” Ronan grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the living room.

“In a minute. There’s something I want to talk to you about first.” Tennyson was staring at the kitchen floor.

Ronan had a bad feeling about this. “Okay, what’s up?” He cupped Ten’s face in his hands and took a deep breath.

“I’m struggling with what happened in this case, Ronan. I’m not sleeping or eating much. All I do is pace around my apartment. I can’t stop crying. All of those gay teenagers, they all could have been me. The ones who died, the ones living on the street, the ones selling themselves to survive.” Tears slipped from Tennyson’s dark eyes.

“It’s okay. I understand.” Ronan pulled his lover into his arms and held him while he cried. Being apart for the last five days had been hell on him too. The last time this happened was before Carson and Truman’s babies had been born and they’d been able to focus all of their time and energy on Ten. This time, they had their hands full with three infants, Captain Fitzgibbon, and Greeley. Tennyson may have been the odd man out in the equation. “Tell me how I can help.”

“I need some time away, to find myself. To heal,” Tennyson said through his tears.

Ronan felt his heart shatter. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. It was happening all over again, just like with Josh. Tennyson was breaking up with him.

“I’m not breaking up with you. I promise I’m not. I just need some time away. Time to myself.” Ten took a ragged breath. He reached up to wrap his hands around Ronan’s. “I booked a cabin out on Great Diamond Island off the coast of Portland, Maine. It’s quiet there. Relaxing. Off the beaten path, as they say. I can meditate. Find my Zen. Heal.”

The words were slow to sink in. Tennyson wasn’t breaking up with him. He just needed time for himself. “Okay, I just…” Ronan tried to take a breath. “Just tell me why you need to do this alone.” He was battling his own tears now. It wasn’t a breakup, but his heart was broken all the same. Why did Tennyson need to heal alone?

“It’s just what I need right now. I need to focus on me and if you’re there too, I’ll focus on you. Ronan, I love you so much. I think my heart will burst sometimes with all of the love that I have for you. This issue with these boys and what they went through is my issue. It’s my past and my present colliding and I just need to step away and reconcile those two parts of me. I promise you this isn’t the end. It’s just goodbye for now. I’ll be back before you can even miss me.”

It was too late for that, Ronan missed him already and Tennyson was still standing in front of him. “If this is what you need, babe, then I’m all for it. I can’t say I won’t miss you like crazy, but I support you one hundred percent. I love you too, Ten. With my whole heart.” Ronan pulled Tennyson back into his arms and held him tight.

Ronan wasn’t sure what was going to happen next between the two of them, but whatever it was he and Tennyson were safe. Right here and right now, that was enough

 

 

 

EPILOGUE
Tennyson

One week later…

The island was semi-private and unless you were renting a cottage or visiting the Inn at Diamond Cove you weren’t allowed off the ferry. For Tennyson, the quiet of the place was an absolute haven for him.

His little cottage was just off the beach. It was painted a light pink and had one bedroom. It was the perfect size for a honeymooning couple or an exhausted psychic looking to come to terms with himself and his past.

Every morning that Tennyson had been here started with an egg white omelet and a piece of wheat toast. After the dishes were cleaned up, he’d head out to the beach for an hour of meditation. Usually he’d only get in a few solitary minutes of deep breathing and a few simple poses before the voices and visitations would start. Ten knew there was no way he could truly take a vacation by himself; the spirits of the departed were everywhere.

The one thing he should have done was a bit more research on Fort McKinley. Built in the early 20th century, the fort was an active U.S. Army base until after the end of World War II. Over the course of the week he’d been here, dozens of the spirits that had visited him had been those of soldiers who’d come back to the place they’d been happiest after they’d died.

Instead of having hours of uninterrupted time to spend on himself, he’d used it all up helping spirits cross over or come to terms with the fact they were actually dead. At the end of most days, Tennyson was more tired than he should have been, leaving him with no time to work on himself.

Not being able to work on his own issues only made him miss Ronan more. He’d gotten in the habit of sending his lover one email a day, right before he went to bed. He never mentioned the fact that he was spending more time working with the dead than on himself. His emails were instead filled with details about the island and always included a picture of the beach or of some bird or flower.

Ronan, for his part, followed the unwritten rules Tennyson had set. He would respond to Ten’s email the next morning. He’d talk about the progress Fitzgibbon and Greeley were making, among other mundane things like what was going on with Truman and Carson. He’d close with a picture of Boston, usually a sunrise shot from Carson Beach, which told Ten that Ronan had started running again.

Day nine on the island dawned rainy. There would be no meditation on the beach this morning. After breakfast, Ten set up his mat on the living room floor in front of the cold stone fireplace and started his deep breathing. He was about to move into the “greet the day” pose when he was interrupted by a steady stream of voices talking at once. “That’s it!” Tennyson shouted. “I’ve been more than patient, but you all have to go!” His breath was ragged, his voice high-pitched. “I came here to relax and find myself. To heal and I haven’t had one damn second to myself since I arrived. Can you all just give me that? One damn minute? I wish I never had this damn gift! Now go!”

Tennyson fell back to his mat and let all of his emotions flow out of him. He cried for his childhood spent denying who he was. He cried for the boys back home in Boston who’d lost their families and lives for being born gay. He cried for Ronan and the precious time they were missing together because he’d run away from his problems to this god-forsaken rock to find himself when he’d never really been lost in the first place. Ten cried and cried until the tears were gone and sleep took him.

When he woke up, the cabin was dark.  Ten sat up and all of his muscles screamed in protest. “That’s what I get for falling asleep on the hardwood floor,” he muttered to the empty room. He walked to the dining room table and grabbed his phone. Hitting the home button, he saw that it was 7pm. Christ, he’d slept for twelve hours on his yoga mat.

Guilt hit him like a boulder. Yes, he wanted a little time to himself to get his head on straight again after the Justin Wilson case, but he never should have yelled at those spirits like he’d done. Ten turned on the heat under the tea kettle and took a seat at the dining room table. Opening his sixth sense wide, he reached out to all of the spirits around, welcoming them to speak to him. Oddly enough, none responded.

When the kettle started to boil, he got up and made his cup of green tea. Ten took it out onto the deck, where the moon was rising out of the ocean. He sat in one of the Adirondack chairs and let the rhythm of the tides soothe his troubled soul.

The first thing he was going to do when he got back to Massachusetts, after he kissed Ronan’s lips raw and begged for his forgiveness for not taking him on this trip, was to jump in feet first with Truman on his We Are Family charity. After that, he was going to book appointments with clients looking to have private readings with their loved ones, and then he was going to get back to work with Ronan.

He knew damned well that not all cold cases were going to turn out like the Michael Frye and Justin Wilson cases with violence and gunfire. For most of them, it would simply be a matter of speaking with the victims and hearing the stories of how they died. Ronan would be able to find the evidence or get the suspects to confess from there.

Tennyson laughed into the twilight. There! All he’d needed was five uninterrupted minutes to himself to figure out what was next for him and his life. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?

As for what was going on with his past colliding with his present, he needed to let his parents and their narrow-minded religious beliefs go. He wasn’t that scared seventeen-year-old boy anymore, twisting his hands together and telling his parents he was gay and psychic. He was a man with a career, two of them, in fact, and a man who loved him to the moon and back.

He hadn’t spoken a single word to his parents in thirteen years. After the notoriety of the Frye case, his parents surely knew how to reach him, but they hadn’t. If the book hadn’t been closed on that relationship before, it should be now. “No, fuck that!” Tennyson shouted to the sea. The book was closed. He was closing it now.

“You hear that, Bertha? Erin? I’m done with my parents and thinking that they’ll never want to get back in touch with me.” Tennyson was all smiles as he waited for a response from Carson and Ronan’s mothers.

All he got in return was silence.

Tennyson stood up and walked to the edge of the deck and looked up at the stars. A million of them winked back at him. For the first time in his entire life, all he heard were the sounds his ears were picking up; a barking dog, the crash of the waves on the beach, a car horn, the sound of his breath getting faster with each passing second.

“Bertha? Erin? Anyone?” Tennyson shouted. Silence. It was dead silent.

Tennyson thought back to his tantrum from this morning. He’d wished his gift away. The most precious thing he’d ever been given in his life and he’d wished it away like a teenager telling his parents that he hated them. What had he done?

Were the spirits just obeying his command to leave him alone so he could selfishly enjoy his vacation? Or were they gone for good?

There was only one way to find out. He needed to get home. If anyone could help him figure this out, it was Carson and Cole.

And Ronan. The second worst thing he’d ever done in his life was to run away from the man who loved him.

The next ferry back to the mainland wasn’t until 6:30am tomorrow morning. It looked like Tennyson was going to get exactly what he asked for. Peace and quiet. Only that was the last thing he wanted right now.

He offered up a silent prayer that when he woke up in the morning his gift would be back.

 

 

 

 

 

Book three of the Cold Case Psychic series, DEAD SILENT, will be available for sale and on Kindle Unlimited on March 6, 2018!

Be careful what you wish for…

After a dramatic end to the Justin Wilson case, psychic Tennyson Grimm heads to a small island off the coast of Maine, hoping to clear his mind and renew his spirit.  When the dead won’t let Tennyson rest, the psychic curses his gift and orders the spirits to leave him. He wakes the next morning to silence, and finds truth in the saying, "Be careful what you wish for.”

Detective Ronan O’Mara has been tasked by his boss with the chore of fining a more "sedate" cold case to investigate this time around. The handsome cop is only too happy to oblige. He chooses the twenty-year-old case of a family patriarch who was murdered on Christmas night 1997. The only possible suspects are either his wife or his daughter, who were both with him at the time of his death.  Ronan figures this one will be a piece of cake. All he has to do is get his favorite medium to talk to the deceased man's spirit.

When Tennyson reveals the truth about what happened in Maine, he’s forced to take a hard look at who he thought he was, and what his gift really means. Ronan does his best to help his lover cope with his new normal while he uses good old-fashioned police work to figure out a family who put the 'dis' in dysfunction.

Will Tennyson be able to find the key to unlock his gift, or will the spirits stay dead silent?

 

The preorder is available at my Amazon page. 

 

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