Dead To Me (Cold Case Psychic Book 5)

by Pandora Pine

  “Bottom line, Greeley, from what you read in the journal, do you think Kayla killed her mother?” Ronan asked.

  The teenager’s mouth hung open for a moment before he shook his head no.

  It was obvious to Ronan the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

  “She was a spoiled thirteen-year-old girl when her mother was killed. She was hardly one of the Menendez brothers.” Fitzgibbon set a hand on Greeley’s shoulders and squeezed gently.

  Greeley looked up at his father with adoration lighting his green eyes. “I think she was manipulative and controlling, even at thirteen, but, God, Dad, whoever killed Shannon stabbed her twenty times. Is a thirteen-year-old really capable of doing that?” Greeley looked around the table.

  For everything that Greeley had been through in the last two years with having been attacked and raped by a serial killer and then being abducted by the same man and nearly killed months later, he still had a lot of innocence left in him. Ronan hated to take any more of that away from him. Yes, a thirteen-year-old was capable of doing that. The question was, did Kayla Bradley kill her mother back in 2007?

  “It’s possible,” Fitzgibbon said with a shrug. “We won’t know for certain until Tennyson speaks to Shannon.”

  “I’ll ask Reed to call the family and see if we can set something up,” Ronan stood up and headed for the door.

  “If Kayla did it, she isn’t going to want to talk to a cop and psychic, is she?” Greeley looked back and forth between them.

  Ronan started to laugh. “If she did this, she’ll see talking to us and being able to trick us as her highest form of manipulation yet. If she didn’t do it, she’ll want to talk to us just to be able to get one step closer to solving the mystery of who killed her mother and why the killer spared her life.”

  “Do you think she wonders about that?” Greeley shook his head, looking haunted by his own question.

  “Wouldn’t you?” Ronan hadn’t really given the question much thought before now either, but he was damn sure going to ask Kayla Bradley if the opportunity presented itself.

  31

  Tennyson

  It had taken a bit of wrangling on Sheriff Reed’s part, but he finally managed to get Stephen Bradley to agree to let Ten and Ronan come out to his house for a brief interview. Bradley had been okay with sitting down with the Bostonians, but Kayla had wanted to let the past be.

  Tennyson wasn’t sure what that meant in terms of the case. Was Kayla going to be there for the interview or not? If Kayla was absent would that also mean that Shannon Bradley’s spirit would be AWOL?

  The stress of the case was starting to get to Ten. He hadn’t been sleeping well as it was and this wasn’t even his case. The longer they stayed in Kansas, the more he missed Salem.

  “Talk to me, Ten,” Ronan said from behind him in the bathroom mirror. He had just stepped out of the shower and was still damp, his towel wrapped around his waist.

  “I’m homesick. I miss Dixie and our friends. I miss the rude drivers on 93 who flip me off for using my blinker. I want to go home, Ronan.” Ten meant every word. He was even done with their cushy hotel room. He wanted to be back among their own things where everything smelled like them and not some garden breeze-scented air freshener.

  Ronan grinned at him in the mirror. “Oh, phew.” Ronan made like he was wiping off his brow. “I thought you were mad at my cock. It’s not like you to refuse a free ride on my disco stick.”

  “Is that why you wanted me to hop in the shower with you?” Ten turned around to look at Ronan.

  “Uh, yeah. I thought I was being pretty straightforward when I asked if you wanted to fuck in the shower, but next time I’ll try being more direct. Are you feeling okay?” Ronan set the back of his hand against Tennyson’s forehead as if he were checking for a fever. “You’re not like yourself at all, babe. I know you’re having trouble sleeping and it’s definitely not like you to skip out on sex, mentally or physically.”

  Ten nodded. “I’m sorry, Ronan. There’s just so much on my mind with this case and my mother. What’s crazy is that the case isn’t even ours. I don’t like these people.”

  “We don’t get to pick our victims, remember?”

  Ten remembered all right. Ronan had cautioned him about this very thing when they’d been investigating the Harold Owens murder case. Harold wasn’t exactly the most sympathetic of murder victims, but sinner or saint, every victim deserved justice. “I can’t shake the feeling that the Bradleys are hiding something and we haven’t even met them yet.”

  “You know that I’m not one to question your gift, Ten, but do you think this place is influencing how you feel? It’s not like you to pass judgement before we’ve even met the family.” Ronan took a step back and seemed to be studying his lover.

  Ten sighed. “Maybe.” He rubbed his fists against his tired eyes. “I don’t know, Ronan. Do you think I’m starting to lose it?”

  Ronan cupped Ten’s face in his large hands. “You are the sanest man I know. Never doubt that for a single second. Do I think you’re stressed out? Yes! Do I think you’re feeling like a fish out of water? Yes! Do I think a lack of sex rots the brain? Yes!”

  Ten giggled before he shut his eyes. He let the heat from Ronan’s hands sink into his face. “I love you so much. Back when I lived in this town, I never could have imagined there was a man like you out in the world waiting to find me.”

  Ronan pressed a kiss to the center of Tennyson’s forehead. “Ditto, babe. Do you want to know what I think about what’s going to happen today?”

  Ten nodded and opened his eyes. The look in Ronan’s blue eyes nearly took his breath away. All of the love in his heart was reflected back at Tennyson. “Tell me.”

  “We’re going to go out there and meet Stephen Bradley. I’ll use my cop instincts to see who he thinks murdered his wife ten years ago. You’ll use your gift. If Shannon and Kayla are there, we’ll rinse and repeat. If not, we’ll come back to the hotel and write up a report for Barlow Reed. After that, we get online with JetBlue and book ourselves a flight back to Beantown. What do you think?”

  Ten felt a smile burst across his face. It was the first genuine smile he’d smiled in days. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  “Good, then it’s dinner at Lobster Charlie’s and back home to our kitchen table to finish planning our wedding.”

  “And lots of sex. Don’t forget the sex.” Ten’s dark eyes shone with promise.

  Ronan snorted. “I never forget the sex. Unlike someone else I know.” He poked a finger into the meaty part of Tennyson’s shoulder.

  “I promise when we get back here tonight, I’ll make it up to you.” He held up his pinkie finger to swear.

  “Does that mean I can spank you?” Ronan’s sparkling eyes darkened with desire.

  “Well, I have been a naughty boy, haven’t I?”

  “Yes, you have.” Ronan grinned. He pressed a kiss to Tennyson’s lips. “Now get dressed. We’ve got work to do.”

  Half an hour later, Ten and Ronan were driving on Route 36 heading toward Severance. They’d decided not to take Fitzgibbon and Greeley with them on this trip, figuring it was hard enough getting Stephen to agree to a meeting in the first place. Having four strangers show up on his doorstep might make him less willing to talk, than just meeting two people.

  The father and son duo had planned to go visit Kaye and see if she was interested in going out to visit a local Native American reservation belonging to the Kickapoo Nation. Tennyson couldn’t help feel like Greeley and Fitzgibbon were going to have the better day, even if it did mean spending it with Kaye.

  “Are you getting any psychic feelings about going out there the closer we get?” Ronan asked.

  Ten shook his head. “I’m not getting anything. It feels like one giant dead zone, like being somewhere with no cell phone coverage. I haven’t heard a word from Bertha or Erin since the day I spoke to them out at the Bradleys old house.” He could feel the frustration rising withi
n him.

  “It’s going to be fine, babe. If we don’t like the way things are going with Stephen Bradley, we get back in the truck and leave. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Ronan nodded. “It struck me earlier that we’re looking at this case all wrong.”

  “We are?”

  “Yeah. We’re working it like it’s one of our own. All Barlow Reed wanted us to do was take a look at it for him. He didn’t ask us to solve it for him. He probably just wanted to be able to tell people that he worked his hardest and see, I even consulted fancy out-of-town detectives from Boston and not even they could solve the case.”

  Ten hummed under his breath. It wasn’t like either of them not to give something their all. “I hear what you’re saying, Ronan, but it doesn’t feel right.”

  “Look, I’m not saying we go in there and tank the interview, but maybe we need to stop throwing our whole body and soul into it too, like the outcome is going to affect us personally. There are plenty of our own cases waiting for us back in Boston.”

  That was certainly true enough. “Let’s just see how it goes.” It was nearly lunchtime and Ten already felt like he could use a nap.

  They drove silently for ten more minutes, taking directions from the robotic voice on Ronan’s iPhone until they pulled into the driveway of a cute colonial-style house belonging to Stephen Bradley. There was a Honda SUV parked in the driveway, along with an Acura sedan. “Two cars in the driveway. Looks like Kayla’s here too.”

  Tennyson shut his eyes. “Yeah, she’s here with her daughter. Name’s Jenny.”

  “What about Shannon’s spirit? Is she here with them?” Ronan asked.

  Ten’s dark eyes popped open. “She’s upstairs in the baby’s room, standing over the crib. That’s exactly where Bertha told me she would be.”

  “Makes sense, right? Bertha’s always hanging out with Carson’s babies and with Laurel.”

  Ten frowned, there was something more to what Shannon was doing than just standing at the side of the crib and watching her granddaughter sleep. “It’s almost like she’s keeping watch.”

  “What, like she’s protecting the baby?” Ronan’s hand went to his right hip where his gun would be strapped if they were on a case back in Boston.

  “Maybe. I don’t want to say too much more without speaking to Shannon first.”

  Ronan nodded. “Okay then. Why don’t we go ring the doorbell?”

  “Yeah. We aren’t even out of the car yet and this place is already giving me the creeps.” Ten didn’t like the feel of this house at all. He was wishing they could turn around and leave.

  Ronan unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to Tennyson. “The second you’re ready to go, you just say the word, okay? Don’t rely on manners or any social conventions. When your instincts are telling you it’s time to go, it’s time to go.”

  It made Ten feel better knowing Ronan was on his side like this, but his nerves were still jumbled together like a ball of yarn cats had spent the afternoon playing with. “Let’s do it before I tell you to turn the truck around.” He opened the door and climbed out.

  The house looked well-kept from the outside. The lawn was freshly mowed and there were fall flowers planted along the walkway leading to the front door. Someone was taking care of this house.

  Ten was getting ready to walk up onto the porch to ring the doorbell when the front door opened. An older, but very handsome man was there to greet him.

  “You must be the detectives from Boston. I’m Stephen Bradley.” He held out his hand to shake.

  Ronan flashed his badge. “I’m Detective Ronan O’Mara. This is my partner, Tennyson Grimm.” He shook the offered hand. “I’m not sure if Sheriff Reed told you, but Tennyson is a medium, not a detective.”

  “A psychic and a cop working together? What’s next? Cats and dogs getting along?” Stephen offered a dry laugh at his own joke. He offered his hand to Tennyson.

  “I’m originally from Union Chapel, Mr. Bradley. I was back home visiting family and the sheriff wondered if Ronan and I would mind looking into the case of your wife’s murder.”

  “How is it that you assist with cold cases Mr. Grimm? The sheriff wasn’t real specific on that matter.” The widower folded his arms over his chest.

  It hadn’t escaped Ten’s noticed that they hadn’t been invited inside the house yet. “I conduct a mediumistic interview with the murder victim.”

  Stephen’s mouth fell open. “You what, now? You speak to the murder victim? How is that possible?” He looked to Ronan for help.

  “My partner has the gift of being able to speak to people who’ve crossed over to the other side. He and I have been working together on cases like this for the last ten months now, back in Boston. We’ve solved missing child cases, cold murder cases, and have caught a serial killer who was targeting homeless street kids. It was the spirits of these murdered people who were able to help us solve their own crimes.”

  Stephen appeared to be thinking about what Ronan had just told him. “Shannon would be able to tell you who killed her?”

  “It’s possible,” Tennyson said gently.

  “What do you mean it’s possible?” Stephen’s eyes narrowed, as if he were all ready to turn his fledgling belief in Tennyson’s gift back to mistrust.

  “The evidence that I saw of the crime suggested that your wife was standing at the sink when she was attacked. If she didn’t get a good look at the person who killed her or if the murderer was a complete stranger she’s not going to be able to give me a name. Dying doesn’t reveal all the mysteries of life.” Ten kept his voice gentle. He didn’t want to do anything to dissuade Stephen from cooperating with them.

  “Is my wife here? I haven’t sensed her around me at all since she died. Don’t people say that they can feel their loved ones around them? Or that they see messages like butterflies or coins on the ground?” Stephen’s eyes had gone misty.

  “It’s true that some loved ones do get messages in the forms of butterflies or even birds. Pennies from heaven are another common message from loved ones, but some spirits have other missions once they’ve crossed over.” Tennyson wasn’t sure how much more he should say before he spoke to Shannon and found out what her actual mission had been over the last ten years.

  “What has Shannon’s mission been?” Stephen Bradley seemed more open to the conversation now than he had in the beginning.

  It was like Stephen had read his mind. “I don’t know. That’s just one of the questions I need to ask her. She’s upstairs in your granddaughter’s room watching Jenny nap in her crib.” Tennyson pointed up with his finger.

  “You’re not actually buying this load of bullshit, are you, Daddy?” A young woman stormed out onto the porch. She fisted her hands on her hips and stood behind Stephen.

  “Kayla, these are the men from Boston Sheriff Reed called to tell us about.” Stephen didn’t seem to notice how close behind him his daughter was standing.

  “I figured as much.” She paid no attention to Tennyson, but was staring Ronan down.

  “I told the sheriff we’d talk to these men. Guys, why don’t you come on in.” Stephen stepped away from his daughter and motioned them to follow him into the house.

  Kayla stayed where she was, finally following behind Ronan.

  The house was as nicely kept on the inside as is was outside. The front door led into a tidy living room with two matching couches and a large television. There was a portable crib for Jenny set up in the corner, presumably for her morning naps. Beyond the living room was a dining room.

  “Why don’t we settle around the dining room table?” Stephen looked between Tennyson and Ronan.

  “Where’s your restroom?” Ten asked. He didn’t have time for the niceties. He wanted to talk to Shannon and then get the hell out of here.

  “Upstairs, second door on the left. Tiptoe, the baby is sleeping,” Stephen cautioned.

  “Oh, please, Daddy. That kid can sleep thr
ough a howling tornado.” Kayla rolled her eyes.

  “I’ll be quiet,” Ten promised before hurrying toward the stairs. It didn’t escape his notice that the new mother had no issue with a total stranger heading upstairs where her infant was sleeping. That was just the latest reason why this whole case just wasn’t sitting right with him.

  There was no way in hell Carson or Truman would have let a stranger near their babies. He had a feeling Truman would have stood outside the bathroom door and listened to a new guest relieve themselves or would have directed them to answer the call of nature in the backyard.

  He quietly climbed the staircase and walked right past the bathroom door, going instead to Jenny’s bedroom door. It was open a crack. When he peered inside, there stood Shannon Bradley.

  “You must be Tennyson,” Shannon said when he walked into the room. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.”

  Ten had met a lot of spirits since he’d gotten his gift, but this was the first one who’d ever greeted him in this fashion. “You have?”

  She nodded. “I’ve spent the last ten years of my life keeping this secret and being stuck here in the physical world. No one I’ve ever met, spirit or medium, has ever been able to tell me why. The only message I’ve ever gotten in all that time was that I needed to stay close to home and wait for a man named Tennyson. So that’s what I’ve done.” Shannon shrugged and turned back to her granddaughter.

  Tennyson approached the crib. He looked down at the sleeping infant. The baby had dark hair and favored her mother. “She’s beautiful.”

  Shannon nodded. “She is indeed. You know, a lot of thoughts go through your mind when your own child is placed into your arms. I admit that on the day Kayla was born I imagined briefly what the day would be like when she would have an infant of her own placed into her arms. As time went on, I prayed that day would never come.” Shannon grimaced. “Like a lot of the dreams I had for my daughter’s future, that was another one that never came true.”

  What kind of a mother dreamed that her own daughter never had a child of her own? Possibly a mother who knew her own child was a budding psychopath. “We found your journal.”