by Pandora Pine
Making the turn around the Library, Ronan headed for home. He’d asked Tennyson to meet him there so they’d be able to start the day already in the city. Knowing him, he’d come loaded down with passionfruit muffins from Truman’s bakery and some of his heavenly coffee. Ronan could sure use a cup.
He’d spent part of the early morning hours staring at the ceiling, which wasn’t unusual for him after the way the Michael Frye case ended. What was unusual for him was that he was finally able to admit to himself last night that Tennyson had been right about his needing a little outside help.
Not that it was any excuse, but cops always gave each other shit when they had to see shrinks for mandated things like officer-involved shootings. Ronan had done his time with the department shrink for his shooting of Manuel Garcia last summer. Thankfully, it had come after his time in rehab, so he’d known the drill. Known exactly what to say to get his gun and shield back.
This was different though. Going to see a counsellor that wasn’t department mandated was different. It was like having to admit there was a problem within himself that needed fixing. Ronan knew now that there was a problem. A tiny one, but a problem nonetheless.
Said problem was keeping him and Tennyson apart and right now, that was all that mattered.
Ronan turned the corner onto his street and sure enough, Tennyson was sitting on his front stoop. A bag from West Side Bakery was sitting next to him on the steps.
“Wow, I guess you were serious about getting back at it again.” Tennyson was looking Ronan’s sweat-soaked body up and down.
“Quit looking at me like I’m on the menu, Grimm.” Ronan could feel himself blushing.
“Oh please. I’m trying to figure out how a man your age can run like that without having a heart attack. You’re fueled by muffins and coffee half the time.”
“Don’t forget I’m also powered by no sleep and the disappointment of my boss.” Ronan grinned. “Come on, I need a shower.” Ronan jogged up the stairs, just to give Ten an up-close view of his tight ass.
“How are we going to find this teenage runaway?” Tennyson asked.
“I was hoping you could help with that. You know, reach out with your Spidey senses or something.” Ronan held his wrists out like he was going to shoot Ten with webs.
“My Spidey senses?” Tennyson asked, sounding incredulous. “Ronan, I’m a psychic, not a metal detector for lost people.”
Ronan stopped at his door and spun around to face Tennyson. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just hoped there was something your sixth sense could do to help us find him.”
Ten tilted his head to the side. “I love that you have all of this faith in my abilities, but we’re going to have to use old-fashioned detective work here. You know, hit the streets and canvas neighborhoods looking for these kids.”
Ronan snorted, turning the key in the lock. “You sound like an episode of Law and Order.”
Ten grinned. “Why mess with perfection?”
Ronan opened the door. He ushered Tennyson inside. Why mess with perfection indeed. Ten was wearing skinny jeans that hugged his slim hips and tight ass. He had on an old Red Sox tee and a whimsical scarf even though it was seventy degrees outside. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. Try not to listen at the door.” Ronan waggled his eyebrows at Ten.
“As if!” Ten looked positively offended.
Ronan would bet a year’s salary, Ten would have his ear against the door and his dick in hand before Ronan was even wet.
13
Tennyson
While Ronan had been in the shower, instead of having his ear pressed to the door, as he’d previously done, Ten had spent his time more constructively. He’d been looking up ads for male companionship on the internet.
“I didn’t even know RentBoy.com existed,” Tennyson started once they were in Ronan’s Mustang.
“Excuse me?” Ronan turned to Tennyson with his mouth hanging open.
“It’s a website, where men offer a wide range of services to other men. You know, things like hand jobs, blow jobs, even make-out sessions or boyfriend experiences,” Tennyson explained in a patronizing voice, as if Ronan had no idea what a rent boy was.
“Jesus Christ, Ten! I know what those websites offer! I had no idea you were in need of their services.” Ronan pulled out into the street, screeching the Mustang’s tires.
“For God’s sake, Ronan! I don’t need a rent boy! Do you really think I’m that hard up?” Ten rolled his eyes. “I was looking for ways to make dates with these street kids so that maybe we could find this Keegan Mills. I’m hoping we can find out where they hang out in the city too.”
Ronan snorted. “Guess I’m a little on edge.”
“You think?” Tennyson caught movement out of the corner of his eye and jumped a mile when he saw Justin Wilson sitting in the backseat of the Mustang. The young spirit was laughing. “We have a stowaway, Ronan.”
“Oh good. Maybe Justin can help us find his friends.” Ronan looked up into the rear-view mirror as if he could see the teenager. “How’s it going, man?”
“He’s waving at you,” Tennyson said. What a long way Ronan had come in a short time. He remembered back to how awkward Ronan had been around the spirit of Michael Frye. Now, only four months later, he was chatting to spirits like it was something he did every day.
Justin was pointing back and forth between Ten and Ronan. He reached out to Tennyson and transmitted a series of images.
Tennyson started to laugh. He recognized the mini-movie instantly. Justin was sending him the opening theme to Days of our Lives.
“What? What’s so funny?” Ronan sounded genuinely interested.
“Justin thinks the two of us are better than an episode of Days of our Lives.” The kid had a small point, but that was all Ten was willing to admit.
“Christ, we just might be. You’re certainly dramatic enough.” Ronan shot Ten a devilish grin.
“Excuse you? You’re the one who thought I was searching the internet for a good time!”
“I’m still not convinced you weren’t.” Ronan batted his eyes at Tennyson in a teasing fashion. “Can you ask Justin where his friends hang out, so that maybe we can find Keegan.”
“You just asked him yourself.” Ten turned back to Justin who had a contemplative look on his face.
After a few seconds, he reached out to Tennyson again.
“He’s sending me an image of a statue, but I don’t recognize it.” Ten shook his head. He had lived in Salem for the entire twelve years he’d been in Massachusetts, but wasn’t really familiar with any other parts of the state with the exception of the lighthouse out in Scituate.
“What does it look like?” Ronan asked.
“It’s made of stone and is really tall with a woman on the top of the marble with men standing beneath. I have no idea what it is.” It looked like any other memorial type of statue that you see everywhere, but never pay any attention to.” Ten shrugged, knowing he was being of no help at all.
Ronan shook his head. “Neither do I. Is it in Boston?”
Justin nodded his head. He reached out to Tennyson again.
“Boston Common. He’s showing me a map.” Ten was trying to concentrate on the street names. The map of Boston with its winding streets reminded Tennyson of a pot of spaghetti thrown on the floor. Whereas the streets of Union Chapel, Kansas were all laid out in a perfect grid. You never needed to drive south to go north like you sometimes needed to do in Boston.
“The Soldiers and Sailors Monument?” Ronan asked on a laugh. “It certainly is a fitting spot.”
“Why are you laughing?” Ten looked back and forth between Justin and Ronan.
“What better place for young gay prostitutes to hang out then at a place memorializing soldiers and sailors?”
“Justin is laughing too. Is that where your friends will be hanging out today?”
The young man nodded.
Ronan’s demeanor sobered. “Did you know the man who killed you?�
��
“He’s shaking his head no,” Tennyson said.
“Was he ever a customer before that night?” Ronan sounded sympathetic, but determined all the same.
“Still shaking his head no.” Tennyson sighed. With Justin not able to communicate with words, this was going to be much harder than he’d ever imagined. He had to hand it to Ronan though, the detective didn’t seem phased by the lack of evidence.
“Do you boys ever trade customers?” Ronan parked the car and turned around to look into the empty back seat.
Justin shrugged and looked down at his feet.
“Hey,” Tennyson said softly. “It’s okay. Ronan and I aren’t judging you at all. We’re both so proud of you for doing what you had to do to survive.”
When Justin looked up, he was crying again. He reached out to touch Tennyson.
The image he transmitted was the one of him in the frozen field. “The way you died doesn’t matter. You fought up until the end, didn’t you?”
Justin nodded.
“That makes you brave in my book. In Ronan’s too.”
“We’re going to figure this out. I promise you, Justin. I get that your friends might not want to talk to a cop or a psychic, but if there’s anything you can do to smooth the way, I’d sure appreciate it.” Ronan smiled.
Justin brushed away his tears and started preening in the rear-view mirror before he pointed to Ronan and started fanning his face.
Tennyson started laughing. Justin thought Ronan was hot, did he?
“What’s so funny?” Ronan was back to grinning again.
“Justin thinks you’re quite the looker. Play that up with his friends and they might be more willing to talk to you.”
Ronan snorted. “What? You mean flirt?”
Justin was mouthing the words “Work it, honey.”
“He says, ‘Work it, honey.’” Tennyson burst out laughing again.
Ronan looked like he didn’t know what to do with that statement. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, kid.”
Ten laughed. “I think that’s what he’s counting on.”
14
Ronan
Before Ronan got out of the car, he took off his tie and undid two extra buttons on his blue button-down. He ran a hand through his styled dirty-blond hair to mess it up a bit. Tennyson had laughed at him, but he had swagger, he just wasn’t used to breaking it out very often.
“So, this is the Boston Common?” Tennyson glanced around at the oldest public park in the United States. The trees were just coming into bud and birds were flitting around with nesting materials in their beaks.
“Yeah, guess I’m not much of a tour guide. Over there is the Frog Pond.” Ronan pointed to a cute little body of water. “There’s ice skating on it around Christmastime. Part of the Freedom Trail cuts through here too.”
“There’s so much of Boston I haven’t seen.” Tennyson sounded wistful.
“Maybe after this case is over we can find some time to remedy that?” Ronan directed Tennyson down one of the paths. He could see the statue through the tall trees. “There it is.”
There was a group of four young men milling around the soaring monolith. They looked about Justin’s age. Ronan hoped it really was going to be this easy to find Keegan and the rest of Justin’s friends.
“Their names are Mark, Jefferson, Brody, and Keegan is the redhead,” Tennyson supplied.
“How the hell did Justin manage to tell you all of that?” Ronan was stunned.
“He showed me pictures of Luke Skywalker, who is played by Mark Hamill, Thomas Jefferson, and the cop from Jaws. That only left Keegan, so I figured he was the redhead.”
“Okay, what’s our play here?” Ronan felt uncertain. He wasn’t used to dealing with teenagers on the whole and certainly not ones with the potential of being material witnesses in the hunt for a killer.
“Seriously?” Tennyson walked away, leaving Ronan staring after him. “Aren’t you delish,” Tennyson said to the redhead.
Ronan bit his lip and followed after the psychic. The other boys had started to gather around Ten. They were checking him out and smacking their lips.
“It’s extra if your Daddy wants to watch.” The taller, blond boy added, point to Ronan.
“I wouldn’t mind taking Daddy out for a spin.” The brunette ran a hand through Ronan’s hair. “I bet the old man still has some spunk left in him.”
“Me first, Brody. You know Daddies are my thing.” The smallest boy grinned.
“Yeah, that’s ‘cause you’re hoping one of them will take you away like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”
“It’s more likely you’ll end up like Justin,” the redhead said.
Ronan exchanged a glance with Tennyson. “You boys know Justin?”
“What are you guys? Fucking cops?” The redhead went to make a break for it, but Ronan was faster, grabbing his wrist and holding on.
“No! Wait! We’re not looking to bust you. We’re investigating Justin’s murder,” Ronan said in a pleading tone. If the boys ran off now, they wouldn’t get another chance to question them.
“Murder? You mean he’s dead?” The blond boy moved closer.
“Are you Keegan?” Tennyson asked the redhead, who was still struggling to break away from Ronan.
The teenager nodded, yanking his arm away from Ronan’s grip. “Justin was my best friend.”
“That’s why we’re looking for you. You’re the one who reported him missing, right?” Ronan asked.
“Yeah, but no one was interested in looking for him. The cop I spoke to barely took the missing person’s report. What makes the two of you different?” Keegan looked both of them up and down.
“First off, I’m not a cop,” Tennyson admitted. “I’m a psychic.”
“A psychic?” Brody asked, his lips curling into a sneer. “What? You mean like you read a crystal ball?”
Tennyson laughed. “No, but I have a friend who does that. I talk to dead people.”
“Like that kid in that movie, Sixth Sense?” Jefferson looked dubious at best.
“I know it’s hard to believe. Justin’s been visiting me. He told me that he was murdered and asked me to find the man that killed him. He’s the one who led us to you all here today.”
“If you can speak to Justin, why can’t he just tell you who killed him?” Keegan folded his arms across his chest.
“It isn’t always that easy.” Tennyson took a deep breath. “Justin might not have known his killer’s real name and when there’s trauma, it affects memory.”
The boys looked at each other in alarm.
“Look guys we’re not trying to scare you here. We want to find the asshole who killed your friend and keep you all safe at the same time.” Ronan tried to keep his tone light, but at the same he was trying to get as much information from these kids as possible.
Keegan looked at each of his friends, as if he were silently communicating with each of them. Each boy nodded. “There’s something you need to know. Justin isn’t the only one of us who’s gone missing.”
“There are more.” Brody added.
“How many more?” Ronan asked in alarm. He was trying not to let panic get the best of him.
“At least ten that we know of,” Jefferson said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Jesus Christ… At the bare minimum ten teenaged boys had gone missing. Why was no one raising a human cry about this? That was bad enough, but a more chilling thought occurred to Ronan.
Was a serial killer at work here in Boston targeting young male prostitutes?
15
Tennyson
It was a subdued lunch at a local Mexican chain restaurant. The boys ate like bottomless pits while Ronan pushed food around on his plate. Tennyson gave his foot a nudge under the table. “Eat a little, huh. You’re gonna need your strength.”
“Ooohh!” Brody grinned from Tennyson’s right. “Are you two, like, a couple or something?”
“We’re better than th
at.” Ronan grinned. “We’re partners.”
“Isn’t it, uh, like sexual harassment, or something, to be fucking a guy you work with?” Jefferson asked.
“The heart wants what the heart wants,” Mark sighed dreamily.
“Guys, cut the shit!” Keegan angry-whispered. “Justin is dead. Others are missing and are probably dead too. Show some God-damned respect.” He shoveled another bite of burrito into his mouth.
“Keegan, do you know who the friends are of these other guys who’ve gone missing?” Ronan asked carefully.
The teenager shook his head no. “They won’t talk to you. Been busted by the cops too many times to trust you.”
“Even when it comes to finding out who hurt their friends?” Ronan asked, with obvious disbelief.
“What about me? Would those boys talk to me?” Ten asked gently.
“Maybe if you did your psychic thing.” Keegan shrugged. “But you’d have to find them first. The only way I know of is through their Back Page profiles or ads on RentBoy.com.”
Ronan shook his head. “No! You’re not answering Back Page ads.”
The boys exchanged wordless looks with each other and started grinning.
“It’s not up to you to worry about how we find the others.” It was up to Tennyson to worry. He wasn’t about to let Ronan stop him for looking for these kids on the internet either.
“I can see the wheels turning, Ten. What’s on your mind?” Ronan asked.
“There’s someone who might be able to help us speak to other victims...” Ten said carefully.
“Speak to other victims?” Ronan opened his mouth like he was going to ask another question, but then shut it with an audible click.
“What, like you have your own Psychic Friends Network?” Keegan asked.
“Something like that.” Tennyson grinned. “Aren’t you a little young to know about that?”
“Please.” Keegan threw a hand up in the air. “Before Whitney and Mariah, Dionne Warwick was the Queen of Pop.”
Ten bit his tongue to keep from laughing out loud. Keegan’s friends all groaned as if they’d all heard Keegan’s argument before.
