by Pandora Pine
“More or less,” Ronan mumbled. “He might have mentioned something about the letter having been a trap to shiv my stupid ass.”
Fitzgibbon snorted before he burst out laughing. “I’m taking it that was a direct quote from your newlywed and now estranged husband?”
Frowning at the word “estranged,” Ronan nodded. “Nothing happened to me, so why is he so upset?”
Kevin stared at Ronan like the man had three heads. “Did you really just ask me that ridiculous question or am I having a stroke?”
Ronan wasn’t going to answer that question.
“Three months ago you were lying in a bloody heap at the bottom of your front stairs, Ronan. I think Ten deserves a little slack for being upset over this. Hell, I deserve a friggen medal for not going off on you myself and suspending your stupid ass for running this errand on the department’s time. Not only as your friend but also as your commanding officer, I knew you were working on something and not out betting on the horses, but Jesus, can you imagine the fucking shit storm there would have been if anything had happened to you down there? I would have been standing in front of my superiors with my dick in my hand unable to explain to the brass why you’d gone to Walpole.”
Greeley walked into the kitchen and instantly turned back around. “My dad is talking about his dick being in his hand. Guess this is the wrong time to ask about dinner.” Greeley grimaced and turned to walk back out of the kitchen. “Wash your hands before you touch the food!”
Ronan snorted. It was the first time he’d laughed all day. It didn’t help the fact that he and Tennyson were fighting, but his chest didn’t feel quite so tight anymore.
“That kid.” Fitzgibbon shook his head. “I swear he’s got some kind of sixth sense.” He went to the cabinet to the right of the sink and grabbed an extra plate which he set down in front of Ronan. Silverware followed and then a glass and can of ginger ale.
It was odd to see Kevin making dinner in his own house. Ronan had seen him pitch in while he and Greeley had been staying at their house, but this was different. He liked this side of his boss. “You like being the country mouse, don’t you?”
“You’re changing the subject.” Fitzgibbon grabbed the oven mitts but kept his shrewd eyes on Ronan.
“Guilty as charged, Cap. There will be time after we eat to talk about The Riverside Ripper and what I’ve gotten myself into. I remember a time not so long ago when you swore you’d never be a country mouse, but here you are.”
Kevin pulled a steaming casserole dish out of the oven. “Being a father changed me. There was nothing I loved more than living in the city, but once I realized that it was a constant reminder to Greeley of his past, I knew we had to go. Even if you hadn’t managed to get your stupid ass shot, again.” Fitzgibbon raised a sardonic eyebrow at Ronan. “I still would have wanted to move in with you two crazy kids until we found a house here that we loved. Greeley loves Salem and I’ve loved watching him blossom here.”
Ronan nodded. The kid had been through a lot in his seventeen short years. He’d been taken away from his birth mother, kicked out of his foster parents’ house when he’d come out to them, nearly killed twice by a serial killer and once more by his proxy. Greeley was tough as nails but living here in Salem had brought out his softer side. Fitzgibbon was right, the teenager really was blossoming into a remarkable young man. “I’m glad it’s all working out for you both.”
Fitzgibbon pulled the tinfoil back on what looked like lasagna. “It’s all going to work out for you too, Ronan. After dinner, I’m going to sit and go through all of the shit in those files. Then, you’re going to tell me about your interview with the convict, the lawyer, and the P.I. After that, we’ll figure out how to save your marriage and maybe make some brownies. How’s that sound?”
“You know how to make brownies?” Ronan found a smile.
“Nope, but if you can read, you can cook. At least that’s what Greeley tells me.” Kevin slapped a hand down on Ronan’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He walked out of the kitchen and Ronan heard him call Greeley down to dinner.
He’d made an absolute fuck up of this entire day but felt better knowing that Kevin was going to help him set things to rights. He could only hope Tennyson would be ready to hear his apology when Ronan finally figured out the right words to say to the man he loved with all of his heart.
8
Tennyson
Tennyson was never so happy to hear the sound of crying babies in all of his life. It was 6:36am and he’d been lying awake in the guest bedroom at Truman and Carson’s house staring at the ceiling for the last two hours.
Fitzgibbon had texted him last night to let him know Ronan was spending the night in his spare bedroom. He could have just gone home after he’d had dinner with Carson and Truman, but he didn’t want to sleep in his and Ronan’s king-sized bed all by himself.
He was the one who’d walked out on his stubborn husband, but that didn’t mean his heart wasn’t broken over their fight. When he heard the sound of Carson’s voice cooing to the babies, Ten got out of bed and trudged down the hall to help.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Bertha Craig cackled. “You’re looking like you didn’t get any sleep at all, Tenny.”
“Good morning to you too, Bertha.” Ten grimaced at the spirit of his best friend’s mother. He scooped a pissy looking Brian out of his crib and carried the smelly infant to an empty changing table.
Bertha had been the original founder of West Side Magick back in the 1980s. Neither one of her sons had shown any psychic ability when she’d been alive. On her deathbed nearly three years ago, she’d asked Carson and Cole to keep the store open as her legacy. It wasn’t until about a year after her death that Carson had his first vision. Cole started developing his own psychic powers after that. The brothers had brought Ten in to help them hone their skills and their partnership had grown into a friendship from there.
“Ten and Ronan had their first married fight last night, Mom,” Carson said gently, wiping a mess from baby Bertha’s bottom. The baby held out her chubby hands to her Mimi.
“I’m dead, Carson, not blind. I’ve seen that look before. I might have even worn it a time or two in the years I spent married to your father. That dirty son-of-a-…”
“Mom!” Carson barked.
“For the love of God, Carson. They’re haddock. They don’t understand a word I’m saying.” Bertha folded her arms over her chest.
Carson scooped up his mother’s namesake and cuddled the baby against his chest. “They are not haddock!”
“Who’s haddock? I like haddock. We should have that for supper.” Truman was all smiles as he breezed into the babies’ bedroom. “Stephanie, did these mean men leave you all alone with a poopie diaper?” He pulled the baby out of her crib and dry heaved. “Oh my God, child! What did you eat?”
Carson started to laugh. “Mom is here. She says she recognizes the look on Ten’s face because Corny put it on her face enough during their marriage.”
“Well, that explains everything.” The look on Truman’s face said that Carson’s words clearly did not explain anything.
“What happened, Tenny?” Bertha asked.
The last thing Tennyson wanted to do was explain the fight again, especially in the cold light of day. “Ronan got a letter from a convicted murderer asking him to come visit him in prison. He says he’s innocent and that I can prove it. Ronan went to see him yesterday and didn’t tell me or Fitzgibbon he was going.” Ten sighed.
Bertha frowned. “Surely you’re not this upset because Handsome went somewhere without telling you.”
Ten shook his head. “This killer is housed in the same prison as Josh Gatlin and about twenty other men who Ronan helped put away. I freaked out thinking the letter might have been a trap to get Ronan down there where one of those men could have attacked him.”
“Okay, that makes more sense. I’m guessing you lost your mind a bit and Ronan doesn’t understand wh
y this is such a big deal.”
“Yeah. I see those bullet scars every day, Bertha. I was the one sitting by his side listening to that damn machine beep out his heartbeat day after day. We came so close to losing him. There are still days when I can feel that paralyzing fear again like a memory, you know? Ronan doesn’t know what that’s like. I pray he never does.” Ten hugged the baby closer to his chest.
“It’s like when your kid makes a break toward the street. You run like hell to save him and snatch him up just before he gets hit by a car. He’s safe, but every time you see that part of the road again, you can’t help but remember that day. That car. How close you came to losing the most precious thing in your life.” Bertha raised an eyebrow at Carson, whose mouth dropped open soundlessly.
Ten nodded. That was how he felt in a nutshell. “It’s stone cold fear in my heart, Bertha, but it came out as anger.”
“How are you feeling now that you’ve had a chance to sleep on your feelings?”
“I miss the stupid jerk.” Ten grinned.
Truman snorted and started to laugh. “What the hell question was that the answer to?” He picked up Stephanie and peppered the baby’s head with noisy kisses.
“Bertha asked how I was feeling after I slept on the fight.”
Truman frowned. “You cried on my couch for an hour. You picked at my world-famous chicken piccata and barely ate five bites. Not even baby love brought a smile to your face and all you can say after all that is you miss the stupid jerk?” He rolled his eyes. “Liar, liar, pants on fire!” Truman turned to leave the room. “I’ll be downstairs making breakfast. You’d better eat it. That’s all I’m saying!”
“Someone’s grumpy when they don’t get any!” Bertha laughed.
“You don’t know the half of it!” Carson agreed.
“Ew, you talk to your mother about sex?” Tennyson couldn’t believe his ears. He looked down at Brian who was looking up at him, his big blue eyes were focused on Ten’s face.
“What do you talk to your mother about?” Carson grinned.
“Jesus. What else? She’s a Bible-toting midwestern Baptist who still thinks Ronan and are both bound for hell when we die. She’s eased back on saying those things out loud since she knows our little miss is on the horizon, but there are times when I know she’s mentally measuring Ronan and I up for asbestos suits.”
Carson burst out laughing. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I got that vibe from her at your wedding too. I was just glad she and your dad came. Did you tell her that David and her future granddaughter were both there?”
Ten nodded. “Sort of. She knows David is always with her. I didn’t tell her that you-know-who was also there too.”
“You can say her name Ten. We all know she has one.” Carson rolled his eyes.
“No, I can’t. Ronan thinks if we say it out loud we’ll jinx things.”
“What?” Carson half-shouted.
“Ten told Handsome what I told you about the future when you were little, Carson.” Bertha smiled fondly at her son and pressed a kiss to baby Bertha’s head.
“Oh, about the future being fluid and changeable?” Carson smiled wistfully at his mother.
Bertha nodded.
“This baby isn’t one of those changeable things. I’ve seen…” Carson stopped talking as if he didn’t want to spill the beans.
“I know what you’ve seen, Carson. I’ve seen it too.” Ten laughed. “I’ve tried not too, but my little girl is very persistent. She wants me to see this particular thing, so I’ve seen it. Several times now. I wake up crying happy tears. I think Ronan’s seen it too, but he’s never mentioned it to me.”
“He might think it’s just a dream or he might not remember when he wakes up.” Bertha hugged Tennyson and kissed her grandson. “Go eat my son-in-law’s fabulous breakfast and then go make up with your husband, Tenny. It’s not good to let these things go on for too long. Apologize for being overprotective and emotional. Make sure he apologizes right back for scaring the shit out of you. Then fuck like bunnies!”
“Jesus Christ, Mom!” Carson groaned.
“Eeeeeeee!” Baby Bertha giggled, reaching her chubby arms out for her Mimi.
“I love you too, precious!” Bertha kissed her namesake. “You’re gonna have to watch out for this one and Ten’s little one. They’re going to be formidable when they join forces.”
“Oh good. The psychic world’s version of The Wonder Twins.” Carson pinched the bridge of his nose as if he felt a headache coming on.
“Take my advice, Tennyson! I’ll kiss your daughter for you. Toodles!” Bertha was gone.
“You have to admit Mom had some good advice.” Carson wore a look on his face as if he couldn’t believe his mother had marital advice that was worth a damn.
Ten snorted. “The thing about the bunnies?”
Carson nodded.
Ten slapped a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “Let’s go eat. I’m gonna need my strength.”
9
Ronan
Fitzgibbon was sitting at the dining room table drinking a cup of coffee when Ronan came downstairs. “Morning, Cap.”
“You look like shit.” Fitzgibbon grinned.
“Feel like it too.”
“Will it make you feel better or worse to know that your husband looks equally as bad as you?”
“You saw Tennyson? When?”
“About ten minutes ago. He was walking back from Carson and Truman’s house.”
“Shit! I told him if he left I wouldn’t be there when he came home.”
“Look, Ronan. I know we spent all of last night reading and talking about the Hutchins case, but do you really need me to tell you what you did wrong here?”
Ronan sighed and looked down at his bare feet. “I should have told you and Ten about the letter. I should have let Ten get a psychic read on the letter. I should have told him where I was going and I should have gotten your okay before I left the precinct instead of sneaking out like a booty call in the middle of the night.”
“Agreed, but Ronan?”
The exhausted detective looked up wordlessly at his boss.
“When you tell these things to Tennyson, look him in the eye and throw in the phrase, ‘I’m sorry.’ You’ll be surprised how far that will take you. Maybe promise never to go to bed angry again.”
Ronan chuckled. “Last night sucked. Not that I don’t appreciate your hospitality, but I missed falling asleep with Ten’s head on my shoulder.”
“Stop wasting time telling me that. Go tell him.”
“What are we going to do about the Hutchins case?” Ronan knew he was skating on thin ice just by asking the question.
Fitzgibbon drummed his fingertips on the table. “I’ll leave that ball in your husband’s court. Technically, there is no case. Tank Hutchins is just a convicted murderer who sent one of my detectives a letter. What that detective and his psychic husband decide to do with that letter in their spare time is their business.”
“What if we find something?” Ronan had expected that kind of answer from his boss. There really was no case. It was fine and dandy for Tank to have a new lawyer and a P.I., but until there was new evidence for an appeal, the case was dead in the water.
“If you find something, you bring it straight to me. Do not bring it to the shark lawyer. Do not bring it to the sleazy P.I. Am I understood?”
Ronan nodded. “I can’t imagine this is going to go much further than this discussion, Cap. You didn’t see how upset Tennyson was last night.”
“The sunrise has a way of shedding new light on a problem, Ronan. Listen to him. Don’t talk over him. Hear me?”
“Yes, sir.” Ronan found his first smile of the day.
“Round the conversation out with that stack of dead files on your desk. Now, those are people the two of you can for sure help out. I’m assigning those cases to you since the other detectives have worked them as far as their five senses can take them.”
“I
had a feeling you were going to say that.” The cases were tailor made for them. All Ten had to do was use his gift. All of the usual cold case legwork had already been done.
“I’ll set up a meeting to talk about this with the two of you on Monday when Tennyson is back in the office with us.” Kevin stood up. “Text me later to let me know how this goes.” He yanked Ronan into his arms and gave him a rough hug.
“What the hell was that for?” His boss had never hugged him. Not even after he’d gotten shot.
“For luck. I don’t want to play host to you for a second night.” Kevin laughed.
***
Ronan stood at the foot of his front steps. His house looked the same as it had yesterday and the day before. He sighed and climbed the brick stairs. He used his key to unlock the door. Dixie started barking and the alarm started chirping simultaneously. “Ten?”
“In the kitchen,” Tennyson’s tired voice answered.
Leaving his suitcase and the Hutchins’ files in the hallway, Ronan kept Dixie under his arm and headed into the kitchen. Ten was sitting at the dining room table with a cup of tea in front of him. Ronan could smell the earthiness of Ten’s preferred brand of green tea. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Ten stood up from the table. “I don’t need to be a psychic to see that you didn’t get much sleep.”
Ronan shook his head. “The spare bed at Fitzgibbon’s is too hard. You don’t look like you got a lot of sleep either.” He set Dixie back down on the floor.
“Truman snores, remember?”
“Yeah, how could I forget the night Truman spent in the hospital with me after he’d been attacked?” Ronan had nicknamed him Little Deuce Coupe because he’d sounded like a revving car engine.
