Dead Weight (Cold Case Psychic Book 4)

by Pandora Pine

  Ronan quickly scanned the news story detailing the gory murder of seventeen-year-old Max Harmon. The teenager was about to be a junior at Boston College High School. According to his grief-stricken family, he’d last been seen at a summer football clinic run by the school.

  The article went on to describe that the boy had been found naked with a slash to the throat. Anyone with information about the crime was asked to contact the Boston Police Department.

  “Jesus Christ, it can’t be…” Ronan felt his heart pounding in his chest. Rod Jacobson was dead. There was no way he could have killed this boy, but the earmarks of his killing spree were all over this crime. There was one tell-tale sign that was missing from the article.

  Fumbling for his phone, Ronan managed to pick it up from the corner of his desk. He dialed Vann Hoffman, the Suffolk County Medical Examiner. He could only pray that it wasn’t too late and that Vann would be the coroner who would be doing the autopsy on this body.

  “I was wondering when you were going to call me!” Vann’s chipper voice answered.

  “Tell me you checked his chest with a black light, Vann.” Ronan sounded breathless. During Rod Jacobson’s murder spree, he’d killed fourteen teenage boys. He kept track of his kill count by writing the number of the kill in his own ejaculate on the victim’s chest.

  “Number fifteen, Ronan.” Vann sighed. “Shit, man. How is this possible? You killed Jacobson.”

  Ronan was reeling. He wasn’t surprised by what Vann was telling him, but it was still impossible all the same. “You sent the DNA out for testing.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I did, but we’ve got a problem.” Vann’s voice sounded grave.

  “What kind of problem?” Ronan’s adrenaline was flowing so hard he could feel the burn of it in his fingertips.

  “The lab is going through its annual state audit at the moment and we can’t put through any rush DNA requests.” Vann sighed. “But, come on, Ronan. We both know the DNA can’t come back to Rod Jacobson. He’s dead and cremated. I think I read that his mother kept his ashes so that psycho murder fans couldn’t turn his grave into a shrine.”

  Ronan remembered reading something along the same lines. Other infamous serial killers had also been cremated and their burial locations kept secret for the exact reason that Doctor Hoffman had named. “So, we have a copycat killer on our hands. Was Max Harmon raped too?”

  “I’m not saying that we have a copycat. Until I have the results back from the lab, my autopsy is incomplete.” Vann sighed heavily. “Yes, the victim was raped. I’ll be in touch as soon as I know more. What are you going to do in the meantime?”

  What was he going to do? Call Tennyson? Go to Fitzgibbon? “I’m not sure. I’d rather have all the facts before I go to Fitzgibbon with my crazy suspicions here.”

  “I’ll be in touch, Ronan.” Vann didn’t sound at all happy at not having the answers Ronan needed.

  “Thanks, Vann.”

  “You got it, man.” The phone beeped three times as the ME hung up.

  “What crazy suspicions?” Fitzgibbon asked from behind Ronan.

  Ronan jumped and squeaked in his seat. He turned around to see Fitzgibbon staring at him. His arms were folded over his chest. He was carrying a folded copy of today’s Boston Globe. “Captain, I-”

  “Sweet fucking Jesus, Ronan. Do not tell me that you were just on the phone with Vann Hoffman asking him to check the chest of this murdered kid found at the Audubon sanctuary this morning.”

  “You’re not going to believe-”

  “Ronan have you lost your mind?” Fitzgibbon boomed. “Have you been seeing the department shrink?”

  “Captain, can we talk about this in your office please, so that the entire precinct isn’t privy to my personal business?” Ronan pitched his voice low. He could see the other detectives in the room had stopped working and were openly staring at them.

  Fitzgibbon sighed. “Fine, you’ve got five minutes.” He turned and stalked back to his office.

  Ronan was having a hard time understanding why Fitzgibbon was so pissed at him. Yes, Jacobson had tried to kill his son twice and had put a bullet in him, but that shouldn’t have any bearing on what was going on now.

  Shutting the door behind him, Ronan turned around to face his boss.

  “Answer my question, Detective O’Mara! Are you seeing the department shrink about the shooting of Rod Jacobson?” Fitzgibbon’s eyes were cold.

  If Ronan hadn’t gone to see the department mandated shrink about the Rod Jacobson shooting, he wouldn’t be keeping his cool right now. Fitzgibbon should know that. Obviously, there was something else going on here. He took a deep breath and settled himself into the chair across from Kevin’s desk.

  “You know that I’ve done everything the department required of me after I shot and killed Jacobson, sir.” Being this calm was making Ronan’s stomach ache. Fitzgibbon knew damn well that that he’d done what was asked of him, otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to come back to work after the shooting. Ronan also knew his boss was his friend and he wasn’t about to do or say anything to put that relationship in jeopardy. “Now,” Ronan said calmly, with no hint of snark in his voice “I know that you know that. Please tell me what’s got you in this mood. Was it my conversation with Vann Hoffman? Or were you pissed off at me before you heard me on the phone?”

  All the fight seemed to pass right out of Fitzgibbon. Ronan saw him deflate like a balloon with a pin hole in it.

  “That motherfucker almost killed my son twice. He nearly killed me. Now, I walk in this morning and hear you on the phone asking the medical examiner if he checked a murder victim’s chest with a black light. That can mean only one thing, Ronan: Rod fucking Jacobson.”

  “Did you read the article in the Globe?” Before Ronan told him what Vann had said, he needed to make sure Kevin knew what was going on.

  “No, I only saw the headline. It was enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Then I heard you say the words black light and copycat.” Fitzgibbon shook his head. He looked exhausted and it was only 9:30am.

  “Cap, the victim is a teenager who had his throat slit and was left naked at the Boston Wildlife Sanctuary out in Mattapan. Birdwatchers out late last night looking for owls found him and called the BPD.”

  Fitzgibbon sat forward in his seat, scrubbing his fists over his eyes. “What did Hoffman say when you asked about the black light? Was there a fifteen written on his chest in ejaculate?” The captain’s bloodshot green eyes burned into Ronan’s.

  Ronan nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Motherfucker,” the captain whispered under his breath. “DNA?”

  “The state is doing an audit of our crime lab, so rush DNA results aren’t available. Vann said he’d get the results to us as soon as he can.” Ronan shook his head. It was like they were stuck in an episode of The Twilight Zone. “It can’t come back to Jacobson. I shot him twice in the head. He’s dead.” Ronan didn’t know what else to say to make his boss feel better.

  “I know he’s dead, Ronan. I saw the body myself.” Fitzgibbon wore a guilty look.

  “I remember showing you the pictures.” It was the best Ronan could do for his boss who’d been taken out of that no-tell motel room on a stretcher, fighting for his life.

  Kevin shook his head. “No, you don’t understand.”

  “What don’t I understand?” Ronan had a bad feeling about this. Why did the captain look so guilty?

  “After I was out of the ICU, you all were taking turns sitting with me at night. On the night Vann stayed with me, I signed myself out of the hospital AMA and made him take me to the Suffolk County Morgue.”

  Ronan’s mouth hung open. “Let me get this straight. You had a bullet lodge in your chest half an inch from your heart and three days later you’re signing yourself out of the hospital against medical advice to go on a field trip to the morgue?” It felt like a complete role reversal, like Ronan was the boss and Kevin was the subordinate who’d
just royally screwed the pooch.

  “I had to see him, Ronan. Had to know the motherfucker was really dead. You knew he was dead because you were the one who shot him. I never got to see that because I was lying on that shitty motel room floor with a bullet next to my heart. Jacobson promised to come after Greeley and finish what he started. I had to know for sure he could never make good on that threat and that my son was safe.”

  Ronan felt his shoulders slump. He understood where Fitzgibbon was coming from. He wasn’t a father, but he’d spent enough time around Fitzgibbon, Carson, and Cole to know how strong that parental instinct was and the lengths it could drive a man to. Besides, nothing bad had come out of the captain’s late-night foray to the morgue. Ronan had to hand it to him. He didn’t like going there during the day. He couldn’t imagine going there in the middle of the night.

  This little bit of sharing was nice, but it didn’t explain why his boss was acting like a grade-A asshole earlier. “Since you seem like you’re in a mood to share, you wanna tell me what had you on the warpath earlier?” Ronan stopped short of adding, “I thought we were friends.”

  Fitzgibbon let out a world-weary sigh. “Yeah, I was a bit of a pill.”

  Ronan raised an eyebrow but refused to rise to the bait.

  “Greeley and I had a disagreement this morning. He wanted to go hang out with the purple-haired theater major he met last weekend at the college up in Salem today and I told him he needed to study for his GED final exams. We had words. Then when I heard you talking to Vann Hoffman, I just lost my mind. I’m sorry I mentioned the department shrink in front of the goon squad out there.”

  Ronan had almost forgotten about that, in light of Fitzgibbon’s confession about going to see Jacobson’s body. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make things right with Greeley and with my esteemed colleagues.” Ronan grinned at his boss. “Vann isn’t sure if this murder is a copycat killing.” Ronan’s phone jingled with an incoming text message.

  “I know we’re just going to have to wait for Hoffman’s full autopsy.” Fitzgibbon shrugged.

  “Oh, shit,” Ronan said out loud before he could hold the words back. “We might not have to wait that long.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This text is from Carson. Apparently, Tennyson had a vision in the shop and passed out. When he came to, he said that Rod Jacobson was back and killing teenagers again.”

  Fitzgibbon stared at Ronan open-mouthed, as if he didn’t understand the words Ronan had just spoken. “He’s dead. I saw his body myself. I saw the bullet holes in his head. How?”

  Ronan had no idea. “The only man who can answer that question is Tennyson. Looks like Greeley’s going to get to see his purple-haired Romeo after all. We’re going to Salem, Cap.”

  13

  Tennyson

  Tennyson hated that Carson made such a big deal out of his vision, interrupting Ronan and Fitzgibbon at work to the point where they were both making the nearly hour-long drive from Boston up to Salem. Fitzgibbon was stopping at home to pack an overnight bag for himself and Greeley. They’d be spending the night in the spare bedrooms.

  Once Ten had gotten the message from Ronan that he and the captain were on their way, he’d dashed home to change the sheets on the spare bed in the guest room and to make up the pull-out couch in the spare bedroom Ronan had come to think of as his office. The room had Tennyson’s old desk in it and Ronan’s ancient record player.

  Before Ronan had gotten in the Mustang to make the drive north, Ten had been trying to talk him out of coming home. It was just a vision after all. It didn’t mean anything. Or at least it hadn’t meant anything until Ronan had dropped a bombshell. He’d told Ten to check out the top story on the online edition of The Boston Globe.

  Ten didn’t get much further than the picture of the field where the young man’s body had been found before he realized that his vision had been all too real. He recognized the location instantly. As he read the story, details he already knew jumped out at him. The body had been left naked, the victim’s throat horribly slashed.

  He hadn’t wanted Ronan and Fitzgibbon to drop everything and rush back to Salem, but now he was damn glad that they were.

  A sharp bark pulled Ten’s attention away from the grisly story on his phone. “Is Daddy home, Princess?”

  Dixie didn’t answer Tennyson. She raced to the door and kept barking.

  “Hello, Dixie, my little pixie,” Ronan greeted. “Ten?”

  “In the kitchen!” he called back. Setting his phone down, he stood up to greet Ronan. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

  Ronan pulled Ten into his arms. “Are you okay? Carson’s message said you fainted.”

  “I’m fine.” Tennyson was much better now that Ronan was home. “The vision was just so powerful. It was as if I was really standing there and seeing it all with my own eyes. I don’t know how I ended up on the floor.” Ten shrugged. He didn’t want Ronan to be more upset about what had happened then he already was.

  “You look a little tired.”

  “That’s because we were up pretty late last night.” Ten grinned.

  “Oh, yeah!” Ronan laughed back. He pressed a kiss to Tennyson’s cheek. Dixie was eager to join in.

  “Guys, I’m fine, really.” Ten pulled away and went to wash the dog slobber off his face. He really wasn’t fine, but didn’t want Ronan to see that.

  “Well, I’ll tell you who wasn’t fine was Fitzgibbon. He was losing his shit big time when he heard me talking to Vann Hoffman about using a black light to see if the murder victim’s chest was marked with a number.”

  “It makes sense. I mean that monster tried to kill Greeley twice, not to mention the fact that Jacobson came so close to killing him too.” Tennyson shivered. Just thinking about what happened that night back in May was enough to send his stomach tossing.

  “That’s what had him in such a tizzy. Did you know he went to see Jacobson’s body in the morgue?”

  Busted… A guilty look crossed Tennyson’s face.

  “Wait! You knew about that?” Color rose in Ronan’s cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Ten shrugged. “I didn’t exactly come into that information honestly.”

  “You read him without his permission?” Concern replaced the surprise in Ronan’s blue eyes.

  Ten shook his head. “No, he was leaking the information like a sieve.” Sometimes people broadcasted information about themselves so loudly that no matter how much Tennyson tried to block the flow of information coming at him, it was impossible. It was like when a car drove past you with the radio at full blast. You couldn’t help but hear whatever music they were playing.

  Usually, this only happened when the news was good, when someone had gotten engaged or found out they were pregnant. Sometimes it happened when the person was guilty. Fitzgibbon was such a good man with a pure soul that any deception, no matter how slight, leaked out of him.

  Ronan seemed pacified by the answer. He opened his mouth to respond when the doorbell rang. “That must be him now. Are you going to be okay telling all of us about this vision?”

  Ten didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. “Sure.”

  Ronan headed out of the kitchen with a barking Dixie hot on his heels.

  “Hello, Killer!” Fitzgibbon’s voice greeted. “Hello to you too, Ronan.”

  “Did you drop Greeley off at the college?” Ronan asked.

  Fitzgibbon nodded. “He was happier than a pig in shit. So was I because he had a nice apology for me when I got home. I can’t help but wonder though if that was because he was afraid I was going to kick him out for being a pain in my ass this morning.”

  “Hi, Kevin,” Tennyson said as he walked into the living room. “I’m not sure that’s the case. I think Greeley is secure with you and the life you’re building together. You’ve done a good enough job with him and your rules that he knows what’s expected of him and he knows damn well that the way he behaved this morn
ing was out of line.”

  The captain nodded. “Yeah, maybe.” He cleared his throat and his demeanor changed. “Listen, I want to thank you guys for putting us both up for the night. I’m sure you don’t have to be psychic to know that this new murder victim is freaking me out pretty badly.”

  “Does Greeley know about it?” Ronan asked.

  Kevin shook his head no. “I wanted to hear about Tennyson’s vision before I mentioned it to him. He didn’t care why I’d changed my mind about us spending the night in Salem. He was just happy we were coming up here.”

  “Why don’t we have a seat and I’ll fill you both in.” Tennyson could feel his anxiety ratcheting up. He didn’t want to relive this vision.

  Ronan took his hand and led him to the sofa, setting Dixie on his lap. Kevin took a seat in the high back chair across from them. “You ready to do this, babe?”

  Ten nodded, taking a deep breath. When he shut his eyes, he could smell the warm earth and would swear he could feel the hot sun on his face all over again. He knew that if he turned around, he would see the body of Max Harmon lying in the grass.

  “Jesus Christ, Ten!” Ronan was shouting as Dixie barked in Tennyson’s face.

  Ten shook his head. When he opened his eyes, Ronan looked scared to death. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong? Are you kidding me?” Ronan turned to look at Kevin.

  “Ten, you were in a trance or something,” Fitzgibbon said quietly. “Were you back in the vision again?”

  Ten couldn’t help noticing the captain looked a bit freaked out too. “I think so. I could see the field and felt the sun on my face. I could smell the sunbaked earth too.”

  “Is that how it started back at the shop this morning?” Ronan still sounded upset, but not as badly as a few minutes ago.

  “Yeah.” Seeing how upset Ronan and Fitzgibbon were, was starting to upset Tennyson. All he’d done was shut his eyes and he’d been instantly transported back to the vision. He was going to have to talk to someone about this. Madam Aurora, maybe. Thankfully, the older psychic was no longer his arch-nemesis.