by Pandora Pine
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 m
edia, 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 a
fter 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.”
