by Pandora Pine
“Whatever the captain wants to talk to us about, Tennyson, this isn’t good. If it was a matter of procedure, he’d only want to see me, but since he wants to see the both of us…”
Dawning was slow to light in Tennyson’s mind. “Oh, you think this meeting is about me. Maybe now that we’ve found Michael, the captain won’t want us working together anymore?”
Ronan snorted. “You’re so naïve sometimes. I don’t mean to sound cruel, but what’s important now that we’ve found Michael is nailing the fucker who did this to the wall. We might not be able to do that from a legal standpoint with information given to us from a psychic.”
“So, either way, we’re going our separate ways. Got it. Let’s get upstairs and get this over with then. I’ll call Carson and have him or Truman come pick me up so that you don’t have to drive me all the way back to Salem.”
“Damn, it, Tennyson. I didn’t say I didn’t want to work with you anymore. You’re my partner on this case, but the decision might be out of my hands now.”
“Fine. Whatever. Let’s just go find out what ray of sunshine your captain has for us.” Tennyson walked out of the men’s room with as much dignity as he could muster. He didn’t want the camera crew to notice anything was amiss between them.
When they got upstairs, Ronan didn’t stop at his desk, he went right to Captain Fitzgibbon’s office and knocked on the door.
Tennyson was standing behind his lover trying to make sure the anger warring with hurt wasn’t showing on his face. He had a feeling he was losing the battle. He always wore his emotions on his sleeve.
“Come in,” Fitzgibbon called.
Ronan stepped through the door with Tennyson close behind him. “Captain, the camera crew is here too, but if you don’t want this on tape…”
“We agreed to let this entire investigation be filmed, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Bring them in.” Fitzgibbon sighed and watched with seeming disinterest while the men positioned themselves to film the conversation that was about to take place.
Tennyson had a feeling that what they were about to hear wasn’t going to be pleasant, but wasn’t going to have anything to do with them either.
“What’s up, Captain?” Ronan asked gently. It was a tone Tennyson wasn’t used to hearing Ronan use at work.
“What I’m about to tell you is not going to be easy, Ronan. We got the DNA back on the hair that was found in Michael Frye’s underwear.”
“And there was no match in CODIS?” Ronan looked defeated.
Tennyson could feel the devastation rolling off his lover. It was back to square one if there was no match to the DNA in the system. The only thing left to do now was to channel Michael again and see if there was any more information he could provide about his killer.
Captain Fitzgibbon sighed as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “There was a match, Ronan. Now, before I tell you who the match is, I’ll say that we ran the test several times. The results aren’t a mistake.”
Ronan exchanged a shocked look with Tennyson. The only reason the captain would be taking the time to lay out the information like this was if the DNA matched someone Ronan knew. He felt his eyes bug out with the shock of it all. If the match was someone Ronan knew, the chances were high that it was a fellow police officer.
Captain Fitzgibbon blew out a quick breath. “Ronan, the DNA match is Tony Abruzzi.”
Ronan sat stone-still, staring at the captain as if he could see right through him. “What did you say?”
Tennyson couldn’t believe his ears either. He’d met Ronan’s best friend and former partner a few weeks back. He hadn’t gotten any kind of vibe from him that would indicate the man was capable of this sort of crime.
“Like I said, we ran the test several times, Ronan. The DNA is rock-solid.”
“There is no way Tony did this. I mean there’s just no way. I’ve known Tony for years. He was my partner. He’s no child killer.”
“I get your loyalty, Ronan. I really do, but his hair was found in the dead boy’s underwear. If this were any other suspect, what would you do now?”
Ronan sighed. “I’d arrest his ass for murder.”
“So that’s what you’re going to do with this suspect.” Fitzgibbon picked up a manila envelope which had been sitting on his desk. “These are the DNA tests. Read them over. Decide how best to go about bringing Abruzzi in. If you need another detective to question him due to your prior relationship, let me know and I’ll sit in with you.”
Ronan took the manila envelope, but made no move to get out of his seat.
Tennyson had never seen this side of Ronan before. Indecision and fear rolled off his lover as if he didn’t know what to do next. To be honest, neither did Tennyson.
29
Ronan
This wasn’t happening. Any moment now, he was going to wake up spooning Tennyson from behind and realize this was all just a bad dream. Nightmare, more like.
He felt rooted to the spot, unable to move from the uncomfortable chair stationed in front of Captain Fitzgibbon’s desk.
“I’ll give you guys a few minutes to sort yourselves out.” The captain dropped a heavy hand on Ronan’s shoulder on his way past. “I know we don’t know each other very well yet, but I’m here for you if you need me.”
Ronan muttered something halfway between “thank you” and “fuck off.” He didn’t think the captain was able to make out which and even if he had, would have understood under the circumstances. Captain Fitzgibbon gave Ronan’s shoulder a squeeze before leaving his office.
“How can I help?” came Tennyson’s tight question.
Ronan’s laugh was harsh and bitter. “How can you help? Are you fucking kidding me, Tennyson?” Ronan exploded out of the chair, knocking it backward against the closed door.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ronan saw the closer of the two cameramen back up. He’d momentarily forgotten this was all being filmed. Well, fuck it. Fuck it all. “You heard the captain. He thinks Tony killed Michael Frye and buried his body under that concrete slab. He thinks my best friend, who’s stood by my side through thick and thin, is capable of brutalizing a little boy and keeping that secret from me for seven years.” Ronan was yelling so loudly, his throat hurt. Every ounce of hurt he had in his body was pouring out of him now.
All he could think of were the good times he’d spent with Tony and Carlotta over the years. “He was there for me when I came out to him, Ten. This straighter-than-straight Catholic cop listened to me and loved me anyway. His wife made me pasta and welcomed me into their home.” Red-hot tears scalded down Ronan’s cheeks. “They made me their son’s godfather, for fuck’s sake. Tony was best man at my wedding. Said he’d never been to a gay wedding before.” Ronan collapsed back down into his chair.
Tennyson hesitantly reached for Ronan’s hands, which were clutched together in his lap.
“He was there for me when fucking Josh left me, let me sleep on his couch. He never once said, ‘I told you so,’ even though he had every right to. He stood guard at my hospital room door after Manuel Garcia shot me so that Internal Affairs couldn’t interview me while I was still loopy on morphine. Until I met you, he was the only friend I had.” Ronan pulled his hands away from Tennyson to bury his tear-soaked face into them.
Tennyson stood up and wrapped his arms around Ronan. He rested his head on top of Ronan’s. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to figure this out.”
Ronan pulled back, his face a mask of anger. “How? DNA doesn’t fucking lie, Ten!”
“Take a deep breath and listen to me, okay?”
Ronan gave a curt nod and tried to obey Tennyson. He was barely hanging on here. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. What he wanted was a drink, which was the last thing he needed right now.
“I know you think my gift is suspect at best, but I didn’t read any of this in Tony. There was nothing evil or deceitful in him.”
“What are you saying?” Ronan’s head
was too scrambled for games. Whatever Tennyson was trying to tell him, he needed to say outright.
“You know that I can sense other people’s feelings and emotions, right?”
Ronan nodded, too exhausted to speak.
“When I met Tony, I didn’t sense evil in him. Your friend isn’t a killer.”
“I know that.”
Tennyson rolled his eyes and reached up to brush away the last of Ronan’s tears. “I also didn’t feel that Tony was trying to hide anything from me. He wasn’t nervous that I would read something in him he didn’t want me to read.”
“I could have told you that.”
“I know you could have, but like you said earlier, that isn’t going to stand up in court. There’s something else that Michael said to me at the funeral that I didn’t tell you because I’ve been trying to figure out what it meant. The answer came to me while we were listening to your captain.”
Ronan felt his eyes narrow. He didn’t like the idea that Tennyson was keeping anything from him, but especially if it had something to do with this case. “What did he say?”
“He said that the man who killed him couldn’t be punished. I thought he meant that his killer was dead. After all, a dead man would be beyond the law, but then when the captain said the DNA was Tony’s, it hit me.”
“Michael’s killer is a cop. A child would think that a cop couldn’t be punished. Oh, my fucking, God.” Ronan got up and started pacing the room. Was it possible the DNA was right after all?
30
Tennyson
It turned out that Ronan had a bit of leeway when it came to bringing Tony in for questioning or outright arresting him for Michael’s murder. The lab was still busy processing the rest of the boy’s clothing for touch DNA and fiber evidence. Ronan wanted to give them one more day to get results before speaking to their person of interest.
Tennyson knew Ronan needed time to get his head together and sort himself out before facing his best friend in an interrogation room. Unfortunately, Ronan had wanted to sort himself out alone.
Finding himself at a loose end for the first time in a long time, Tennyson ended up at Carson and Truman’s house. The guys were busy decorating the nursery for the three bundles of joy they were expecting at the end of February.
“Bet you didn’t think you’d spend the night building cribs, did you?” Carson asked with a grin.
“Why isn’t Cole here? He’s the one with experience. Didn’t he build Laurel’s crib?” Tennyson couldn’t make heads or tails of the direction booklet that came with the white crib that was laid out in pieces around the room. The instructions seemed like they were written by a ten-year-old.
“I built Laurel’s crib,” Carson said proudly. “Cole called out for pizza and was in charge of reading the directions.”
“Mmm, pizza!” Truman laughed. “I know where my talents lie. Pepperoni good with everyone?”
Tennyson nodded. The last thing on his mind was food. He was thinking about Ronan and what his partner/boyfriend was doing right now. He itched to pick up his phone and call or text him, but he knew Ronan needed his space.
“Okay, Ten, spill it. This is the room where my babies are going to sleep. I don’t want it contaminated with your worries and fears. It’s supposed to be filled with hope and joy for their future.” Carson plopped down next to him on the floor, nudging their shoulders together.
Tennyson snorted. He’d already bought Carson a smudge kit for the babies’ bedroom with a metric ton of sage. He knew how anxious new parents were and with three babies to worry over, Carson and Truman were going to need every bit of sage they could get their hands on.
“Fine. I know I can trust you to keep this between us and Truman.”
“Of course you can. What happened today? Why isn’t Ronan here tonight? I figured he’d be good at putting this shit together.”
Tennyson laughed out loud. “Ronan is the most impatient man I’ve ever met in my life, but also the smartest. He would probably have all three of these cribs built by now and the changing table too.” He sighed, wishing Ronan were here with them. If anyone could help Ronan through this tough time, it was their friends.
“Did the two of you have a fight about what’s going on between the two of you outside of work or about how you’re handling the case?” Carson’s genuine concern shimmered in his blue eyes.
Ten shook his head. “There was a hair found in Michael Frye’s underwear and the lab rushed the DNA on it. The results came back today and identified a suspect.”
“Holy shit that’s great!” Carson bounded to his feet. “Truman, get your sweet ass up here!” he shouted from the doorway.
Loud footsteps echoed up the stairs and down the hallway to the babies’ room. Ten didn’t have the heart to tell Carson to call Truman off.
“What? What’s the good news?” Truman panted, bending double trying to catch his breath.
“It’s not good news. It’s bad news. Really bad news.” Tennyson was still stunned himself.
Truman exchanged a confused look with Carson. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ll start from the beginning. There was a single hair found in Michael Frye’s underwear. The DNA came back on it and Ronan’s captain gave us the results this morning. The DNA belongs to Tony Abruzzi.”
“Wait, I know that name. How do I know that name?” Truman turned to Carson, who wore a horrified look on his face.
“Ronan’s old partner when he worked homicide.” Carson shook his head. “I can’t believe it. How is Ronan dealing with this? Why isn’t he here tonight? Christ, is he with his AA sponsor?”
“He told me he needed some time to wrap his head around this whole thing. We haven’t been together long enough for me to ask him about his sobriety or AA. Ronan asked for his space, so I gave it to him.” Tennyson was at a loss. After hearing what Truman said, he felt like there was more he should have done for Ronan.
“I’m texting him to let him know I’m here for him if he needs to reach out.” Truman pulled his phone out of his back pocket.
“Are you sure that’s such a good idea, babe?” Carson asked.
“We’re the significant others of psychics. We have a unique bond.” Truman winked at his husband and headed toward the hallway.
“What bond? You drank coffee and ate muffins together!” Carson’s frustrated-sounding voice followed him out the door.
“Sometimes that’s all it takes!” Truman called back.
31
Ronan
Last night had been the longest night of Ronan’s life. He hadn’t even bothered trying to sleep, knowing he would just lie there staring up at the ceiling.
What he’d done instead was go over interview techniques, while he’d paced around his apartment in bare feet. The problem with that was Tony knew all the tricks in the book too. The longer he’d walked around his tiny apartment the harder it was for him to believe Michael’s killer was Tony.
Memories thick as summer traffic to the Cape had swamped his brain. He and Tony had clicked as partners and friends from the minute they’d been paired up. They’d worked together like a well-oiled machine, finishing each other’s sentences and often having the highest case closure rate in the homicide unit. It just wasn’t possible that Tony Abruzzi was a child killer.
He had two choices in all of this: do his job or go with his gut. If he went with his gut-feeling that Tony was innocent, Fitzgibbon was going to throw him off the case. That wasn’t supposition. It was fact. If he went with his gut then his best friend was going to think Ronan believed him to be a child-killer. He was fucked either way.
A knock on the interview room door startled Ronan out of his own thoughts. “Come in.”
Tennyson stepped through the door balancing two cups of coffee in his left hand. “Good morning. Thought you could use this.” He set one cup near where Ronan was pacing. “Rough night.” It wasn’t a question.
Ronan nodded, taking a seat at the table with his back facing t
he two-way mirror.
The second problem in this equation was Tennyson. He should have been talking all of this over with his partner instead of wearing a hole in his floor alone last night. He knew Tennyson would have been able to help him sort his feelings out, but he just wasn’t ready to put that much trust in another man yet. Maybe he’d never be ready.
From a professional standpoint though, he was letting his partner down. They should both be on the same page coming into this interview. Tennyson should know that what was about to happen was a performance as much for the cameras as it was for Fitzgibbon. His gut churned over the idea of lying to Tony and to Tennyson, but with the room wired for sound, there was no way he could explain his motives to Ten now.
“So, what do we have to do here?” Tennyson pulled back from Ronan and straightened his spine.
“I have to interrogate him just like he was any other dirtbag suspect off the street. I need to be hard on him and push for a confession. Ask the tough questions.” Ronan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Questions that I never imagined asking him, of all people.”
Tennyson nodded. “I’ve never interviewed a person of interest in a murder case before. What’s my play here? Do I used my gift? Do I just sit here and listen? Ask questions? Play along?”
Ronan sighed. Instead of being a selfish prick and taking time for himself last night, he should have been going over this very thing with Tennyson. Saving this chat for the eleventh hour was unprofessional, not to mention bush league, especially considering Tennyson was an interview virgin. “Don’t read him. We can’t use any of that evidence at trial. Ask a question if it’s relevant. But, most of all…” Ronan trailed off. He shouldn’t be asking this of Tennyson, especially since he was deceiving the man.
“Keep you calm and on point?” Tennyson asked gently, pulling a fluorite crystal out of his pocket. He took Ronan’s left hand and placed the stone in the center of his palm before closing his fingers around it. “I know how hard this is going to be for you.”
