by Pandora Pine
“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 everythi
ng. 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!”
