by Pandora Pine
Ten pouted. “No, I guess not.” He went for the zipper of Ronan’s jeans, tugging it down slowly.
This slow torture was going to kill Ronan, but on the other hand it gave him a few more minutes of clearheaded thinking. “Reed might still need your gift, Nostradamus. The question is, are you going to be so generous with it the second time around?” Ronan reached out to touch his lover’s creamy skin. The pool and working on their wedding tans was going to have to wait.
Ten took a step back from Ronan. “Reed wasn’t the one rescinding our help on the case.” He paced around the room for a few steps before turning back to Ronan.
Ronan tried to bite back his frustrated groan. His cock was so hard it was threatening to rip through his jeans like The Incredible Hulk. He lifted an eyebrow at Tennyson and went to work taking his pants off by himself.
“Oh, sorry!” Tennyson snorted. “I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that. It’s just that I was feeling kind of used the way that Boone just grabbed the journal and told us all to piss off.”
Ronan felt like a dick. Here he was thinking only about his actual dick and Tennyson was dealing with feelings of being taken advantage of by someone else in his hometown. “I’m so sorry, babe.” Ronan pulled his lover into his arms. “We don’t work like that in Cold Case. Everyone pitches in together to solve cases. We don’t race to find evidence and leads so that one of us gets credit over another. Fitzgibbon has never run the unit like that, but I have worked for other captains in the BPD who’ve worked like that. Davidson was like that back in Homicide. He used to set Tony and I against each other all the time.”
“But you were partners.” Ten sounded confused.
“Right. He thought that if there was competition between us, it would make us work harder to solve the case. It didn’t. It just caused friction between us.” Ronan shrugged.
“I haven’t read her, so I don’t know what her end game is in all of this.”
Ronan laughed. “I would never ask you to go against your own ethics, babe, but…”
“Maybe we should know what we’re up against here?” Ten suggested.
Ronan nodded. “That is if you even want to show up to this meeting there tomorrow. I mean there’s nothing stopping us from booking plane tickets home.” More than anything Ronan wanted to go home. He wanted to cuddle Dixie and sleep in his own bed and sit at his desk in the Cold Case Unit drinking his expensive coffee made with unicorn farts.
“Even if my conscience would let me skip out on Shannon Bradley, we still have some loose ends to tie up with my mother. I need to know that she’s going to be able to make it on her own before we can leave.”
“What do you think is going to be an indication of that?” Ronan had been thinking about that the whole way home. The woman wasn’t going to get over her grief in a day. What kind of progress did they need to see from her to know that she wouldn’t need any kind of outside intervention?
“I was hoping you’d have an answer to that question.” Tennyson frowned.
“The only person she seemed to respond to was Greeley. Maybe he has an idea, because I sure as hell don’t.” Ronan only felt frustration when it came to Kaye. She’d been offered the deal of a lifetime, in his mind, absolute forgiveness, no questions asked and a golden ticket into their family. If the stubborn, stubborn woman hadn’t been smart enough to jump at that opportunity with both hands, he had nothing else to offer her.
“I have an idea,” Ten said. The glint was back in his dark brown eyes.
“Oh, yeah?” Ronan reached out for Ten’s hips, pulling his lover closer.
“How about you let me do something about that bulge in your boxers, detective?” Ten squeezed him through the thin material.
Ronan grinned. “You read my mind. It’s like you’re psychic or something.”
Ten laughed before licking his lips and hitting his knees.
29
Tennyson
Tennyson hadn’t slept well at all. Not knowing what the sheriff wanted to see them about was driving him crazy. His gift wasn’t helping to give him any clues at all. Bertha and Erin were nowhere to be found. He’d spent the last few hours of the night watching Ronan sleep and listening to his beating heart.
There was so much to be grateful for, first among them the handsome man sitting next to him in the truck. He’d come so close to losing Ronan in August. It wasn’t often Ten thought back to that awful summer day. He tried his best to push forward and think about things to come, their wedding, babies, new friends, but there were quiet times like this when he couldn’t help but think about how different his life could have been.
It was why he was having such a hard time dealing with his mother’s attitude. She’d been dead on when she pointed out yesterday that no one at the table was actually Greeley’s family. If that was such a big stumbling block for her then why wasn’t she reaching out to Tennyson with both hands now that David was dead? Ten was the only living relative Kaye had left.
“Hey, are you ready to do this?” Ronan asked as he parked the truck in the nearly empty parking lot at the sheriff’s station.
Ronan’s voice startled him out of his own head. “Yeah. Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“We’re ready too!” Greeley said from the back seat. “No matter what he says to us, Uncle Ten, he’s not going to get us down.”
Ten nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go.” He hopped out of the truck, already feeling stronger about whatever it was Barlow Reed was going to tell them.
Ronan led them into the Sheriff’s station. Reed was waiting for them at the front desk. He buzzed them in the second they walked through the front door.
“I wasn’t sure you were coming,” Reed said.
“We weren’t either, to tell you the truth,” Ronan’s voice was level. No trace of emotion bled through.
They’d all sat down and discussed what to do over dinner last night. Ronan had been ready to throw in the towel. Ten wanted the chance to speak to Shannon Bradley’s spirit if Reed still wanted them on the case. Fitzgibbon had been willing to follow along with Tennyson, and Greeley had been strangely undecided.
The sheriff nodded and led them into the conference room. All of the boxes of evidence were still where they’d left them yesterday morning. “I want to apologize for the way Deputy Boone treated you all yesterday.”
Tennyson looked around the room at the others. They were all paying attention to what the sheriff was saying, but no one, Greeley especially, looked impressed with Reed’s lukewarm words.
“Boone was not acting under my authority in asking any of you to stop investigating this case. I’m thrilled that Tennyson and Greeley were able to find a new piece of evidence and that Ronan and Kevin were able to advance a new theory on how the killer could have crept up on Shannon Bradley in her kitchen. I’d like all of you back on the case.” Reed rocked back on his heels as he surveyed everyone at the table. “If you’d all be up for doing that?”
“I’m assuming that the journal didn’t dig up any fresh leads and that you still need Tennyson’s gift to contact Shannon Bradley’s spirit?” Ronan asked. He folded his arms over his chest.
The sheriff nodded briefly.
“If I agree to get back in on this case, Sheriff, I want Boone to back off,” Tennyson said. “When I visit the homes of family members it’s very important that they believe that what I do is reputable and not some scam. Boone doesn’t believe in my abilities and she’d pass her poison along to the Bradley family. I don’t want her along when we go visit them.”
“Done,” Reed agreed quietly.
Greeley cleared his throat, but did not speak.
“Where’s the journal now?” Tennyson asked.
“It’s on my desk.”
“We’re going to need to read it before we make an appointment to see the Bradleys.” Out of the corner of his eye, Tennyson saw Greeley relax back into his chair.
“Why is that important?”
Ronan shot the sheriff
an incredulous look. “We need all of the evidence at hand, Reed. Don’t play dumb with us. Family dynamics could have played a role in this crime. Just because you didn’t find a giant arrow pointing to the killer in those pages doesn’t mean we won’t.”
“Fine. I’ll go get it. Are you all back in?” He fisted his hands on his hips, not looking at all happy with the situation.
Tennyson looked over at Greeley who nodded briefly. Fitzgibbon did the same. He knew Ronan was going to be the toughest nut to crack. “Ronan?”
“This is your last chance to get our help on this case, sheriff. We won’t be back for a third time.”
“Understood. I’ll be right back with the journal.” Reed ducked out of the room wearing a look that was a cross between relief and annoyance.
“The book is all yours, Greeley,” Ronan announced.
“Seriously?”
“You found it. You should be the first one to get to read it.”
“What am I looking for exactly?”
Ronan exchanged a silent look with Tennyson.
“Use your intuition. Let it guide you. Look for things that feel off to you. Situations or words that make you feel hinkey or just don’t seem quite right.”
Greeley nodded. “Okay, I can do that. Do you think there’s something Boone and the sheriff missed in those pages?”
Ten nodded. “Cops are trained to look for certain things, right? Threats against a person or a woman writing down thoughts about not feeling safe or falling in love with another man. We’re not looking for things that could lead to a crime being committed. We’re looking for things that just seem off.”
“I’ll get right to it.” Greeley flipped to the first empty page in his notebook and uncapped his pen.
“I’m going to look over all of the DNA evidence again,” Fitzgibbon said. “With stabbings you almost always get some kind of cross contamination from the killer accidentally cutting themselves in the frenzy of the attack. I want to make sure every drop of blood in that kitchen was tested.”
Ronan nodded and turned to Tennyson. “What about you, babe? What are you going to work on?”
“A list of questions for Shannon Bradley. I want to be ready for this interview when I meet her spirit.” Ten shook his head. “This trip down memory lane’s been fun and all, but I’m ready to get the hell out of Kansas and go home.”
“Here’s the journal.” The sheriff walked back into the room, setting the book down on the table next to Ronan. “Is there anything else I can get for you guys?” Reed looked around the room.
“Just some peace and quiet,” Ten answered for everyone. He took his usual seat at the table next to Ronan and started doing his deep-breathing exercises. The sheriff’s office didn’t have the best energy for calming his mind and spirit, but it would have to do. The sooner they could wrap up the Bradley case, the sooner they could all go home.
30
Ronan
By 2pm that afternoon, there were empty pizza boxes stacked up in the center of the conference room table. Greeley had barely moved in hours, aside from his pen scratching against fresh pages of his notebook.
When Ronan had run out to get lunch for everyone, he’d also dropped off food for Kaye. She hadn’t been as openly hostile when he’d rung her doorbell, but had seemed mildly disappointed that Greeley wasn’t with him. Ronan would make it a point to let Greeley know he’d been missed, but not until the teenager had finished telling them all about the juicy details contained in Shannon Bradley’s journal.
Tennyson had started getting a little antsy after lunch. He’d finished his meditation exercises and writing down all of the questions he wanted to ask the ghost of Shannon Bradley, but couldn’t seem to settle down. He’d taken himself out to the back of the building where the sheriff said there was a picnic table. Ten had been out there ever since.
Fitzgibbon was quietly going through all of the evidence piece by piece. It was his attention to detail that made him such a good boss. Ronan had no idea how the man sat so still for so long. He would have been a good man to have around on a stake-out.
“Okay, that’s it. I’m done!” Greeley smiled as he stretched his arms over his head. “Where’s Uncle Ten?”
“He’s outside. I’ll go get him.” Fitzgibbon stood up from the table and hurried out of the room.
“I dropped off lunch for Kaye while you were hard at work on the journal.” Ronan watched for Greeley’s reaction to his words.
“How’s she doing today?” Greeley’s smile and his interest were both genuine.
“She was disappointed that I didn’t bring you with me.” Ronan grinned at the teenager from across the table.
“Of course she was.” Greeley laughed, shaking his head. “Was she out of bed and dressed?”
Ronan nodded. “I think she’d even read the newspaper. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said about how books and catalogs kept you going while you were in rehab. Kaye seems like the kind of person who’d latch on to a cause, don’t you think?”
Greeley sat forward in his seat. “What, like some kind of volunteer work?”
Ronan nodded. “She needs something to do with her time and energy and she seems to listen to what you have to say…”
“I’ll do some research on programs in the area. I’m still thinking she’s an animal lover though. I can picture her volunteering at an animal shelter, feeding and cuddling the orphaned animals.”
“Who’s an animal lover?” Ten asked as he came back into the room with Fitzgibbon right behind him.
“Your mother. Greeley and I were talking about how she seems the type of person to throw herself wholeheartedly into a cause of some kind.” Ronan sat back and watched for Tennyson’s reaction to his thoughts.
Ten seemed to be considering what Ronan had said. “When I was a kid, our family and the church were her causes. She was a full-time housewife and mother. She made cakes for bake sales and helped cook for church suppers and Sunday picnics. I don’t really remember her doing much beyond that. But then again, I had my own issues to deal with.”
“Uncle Ronan thought I could suggest an idea or two to Kaye to help fill all of her extra hours.”
Ten snorted. “Well, if anyone can get through that thick skull of hers it’s you.” Ten’s face brightened at the thought. He settled himself back in at the conference table. “What did you learn in the journal?”
Greeley’s face darkened. He flipped back to the first page of notes he’d taken. “The journal covers a period of about four years. It goes from 2003 to 2007. The last entry was made about two weeks before Shannon was murdered. The sole purpose of the entries seemed to be to chronicle the behavior of Kayla. I can see now why Boone and the sheriff didn’t find anything of value in here.”
“You can see why they didn’t find anything, but you did find something, right?” Ten asked.
Greeley nodded. “Kayla seemed to have behavior problems when she was with her mother, but not with anyone else. She was a good student in school and was well behaved when her father was home.”
Ronan shot Tennyson a confused look. “You said the journal started four years before Shannon’s murder, so Kayla would have been nine years old at the time?”
“Right,” Greeley agreed.
“Is it possible for a child to have the wherewithal to plan out a pattern of behavior from that age?” Ronan shook his head. He wasn’t an expert on budding sociopaths, but that seemed a bit young, even to him.
“It seems that way from the behavior Shannon describes in the journal. I mean, it starts out with her detailing what I would call temper tantrums. Kayla would scream and yell when it was time for bed or if she didn’t get a toy or a dress at the mall. It all just sounded like typical childhood kind of things to me. The kind of behaviors you’d see in an only child situation.”
“How do you know so much about only child syndrome?” Ronan raised an eyebrow in question.
“We had a couple of kids like that in my rehab. They
seemed to think the whole world revolved around them. Only child syndrome was exactly how the group leader described their entitled behavior. How do you know so much about it, Uncle Ronan?”
“I may have been accused of having it from time to time.” Ronan shrugged. “But enough about me. What else was in the journal?” Ronan turned to wink at Tennyson, who just rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Greeley.
“Shannon talked a lot about feeling guilty for having such a hard time handling Kayla. She started to hate the time they spent together when Stephen traveled. Kayla obviously favored him and she also felt guilty that he wasn’t there as much as her daughter wanted him to be.”
“Usually it goes the other way around, doesn’t it? Where it’s the mother feeling guilty because she’s the one leaving for work, right?” Fitzgibbon asked. The look on his face showed that he wasn’t quite sure either.
“Was there anything in there about Shannon trying to get any kind of counseling for Kayla?” Ten asked.
Greeley nodded. “She took her to a couple of child psychologists, but none of them found anything wrong with the kid. Shannon was convinced the child was conning them, but to me, reading the book as an outsider, she was the one who sounded like she needed the mental help, you know?”
Ronan frowned. “But then the fact that she was the one who was murdered colors your perception a bit differently, right?”
Greeley nodded. “Exactly. Shannon got to the point toward the end of her life where she gave the kid anything she wanted just to keep the peace.”
“Was she physically afraid of her own daughter?” Ten asked.
“No. I wouldn’t say it went that far, but Shannon was planning to ask her husband if he could request a position in his company that would require him to spend less time on the road.”
