Dead Speak

by Pandora Pine

  “I appreciate the support, Ten, but you have no idea.” A knock on the door stopped Ronan from elaborating further. “Come in.” Ronan felt his stomach drop, like he was speeding down the highest hill on a roller coaster.

  The only good thing about this room was that Brett McCabe’s people had already wired it to tape the interview, so there wouldn’t be any obstructive cameramen filming in the room. It would all be done by voice-activated cameras.

  “Hey, Ronan!” Tony said cheerfully when he came into the interview room. He looked a bit puzzled at first, but that looked faded the instant he saw Ronan’s face. He opened his arms for a hug, but Ronan stepped back.

  “I didn’t call you in here for a chat, Tony. This is serious, have a seat.” Ronan pointed to the empty chairs opposite him and Tennyson. He could feel his hands shaking with anxiety as his stomach twisted itself in knots. In all of his years of interviewing suspects, he’d never felt like this before.

  “Serious? What could the two of you possibly have to talk to me about that could be serious?” Tony looked back and forth between Ronan and Tennyson.

  “You know we’re working on the Michael Frye case,” Ronan said carefully.

  Tony nodded, looking more confused than before. “Yeah, I heard you found his remains at the candy factory apartments in Dorchester the other night. It’s a shame, but it’s a blessing for his family that they can finally bring him home and lay him to rest.”

  Ronan looked at Tennyson who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “His funeral was the other day. Huge outpouring of grief.” Ronan cleared his throat. It was time to stop pussyfooting around and get down to business. “Where were you on the night of October 17, 2010?”

  “What?” Tony asked shaking his head. “Why are you asking me that, Ro?” Tony’s eyes narrowed.

  “Where were you that night, Tony?” Ronan’s voice was harsh. He almost didn’t recognize the sound of it in his ears. This masquerade was going to be harder to pull off than he thought.

  “That was seven years ago! How the fuck do I know where I was that night? Wait a minute!” Tony pushed backward out of his chair and stumbled to his feet. “You think I killed this kid? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Ronan reached over for one of the two manila envelopes sitting beside his right hand. He tapped his right index finger on it. The taps echoed loudly in the room. “We’ve got evidence that puts you with the boy.”

  “What evidence? I didn’t know that kid! Never seen that boy a day in my life! The fuck is wrong with you, Ro? We’ve been friends for years, for fuck’s sake. How can you possibly think I did this?”

  “DNA doesn’t lie, Tony!” Ronan thundered. He stood up and shoved the folder across the table. “Read it,” Ronan commanded as he hunched over the table. He could feel his entire body protesting the wrongness of this scene, but he kept telling himself this was all an act and that it would be over soon, only it wasn’t going to end with a director yelling, “CUT!”

  Tony stepped back to the table and picked up the piece of paper that was contained in the folder. Ronan watched the color drain out of his oldest friend’s face. He knew he wasn’t the most objective man in the room, but the shock on Tony’s face looked genuine to him, but whether it was shock at what he was reading or shock over getting caught remained to be seen.

  He wished there was some way he could convey to Tony that he believed in his former partner’s innocence, but there was no way to do that and not give himself away. There was too much at stake to risk having him and Tennyson pulled off the case.

  “I don’t understand,” Tony said weakly, his body sinking back into his chair. He looked up at Ronan with a pleading look in his eyes. “You know me, Ro. You know I’m not capable of doing this to anyone, let alone a five-year-old child.”

  “DNA doesn’t lie,” Ronan said robotically. It was all he could think to say. It was like this was some bad cop drama. Only he and Tony were the stars instead of Chris Meloni and David Caruso.

  “What about you?” Tony said, pointing a finger at Tennyson. “What do your ghosts say in all of this?”

  Tennyson sat up a bit straighter. “I thought you didn’t believe in what I do.”

  The hopeful look on Tony’s face instantly soured. “You dirty son-of-a-bitch. Here you are cozying up to Ronan, getting into his pants, and now when you’re in a position to do some fucking good, you throw your hands up and say you can’t help me? Fuck you, man!”

  “Watch it, Tony,” Ronan cautioned. “You know damn well any evidence Tennyson gathers from the other side is inadmissible in court,” Ronan scoffed, making air quotes over “other side.” He knew that wasn’t going to earn him any points with Tennyson either.

  “Yeah, well, you sure used whatever hocus fucking pocus Tennyson has to find the boy’s body, didn’t you?”

  “Bet you never thought we’d find him, did you?” The only thing Ronan could do now was barrel forward, full-steam ahead. “Thought you were pretty clever, burying the body right where that concrete slab was about to be laid down. It hid that boy for seven years under two tons of concrete. Not that there was much of him left to find after all that time underground...” Ronan grabbed the second folder and pulled out 8X10 glossy photographs of the crime scene and Michael’s autopsy. Ronan flicked them toward Tony, one at a time, like a Vegas poker dealer.

  “Blessed Mary, mother of God,” Tony whispered, as image after image floated toward him.

  “All that was left of him were bones, Tony. I’m betting you thought that any evidence you left on his tiny, broken body would be long gone if we ever found his remains, didn’t you? You rape him too? Is that why we found your hair in his underpants? Or did you just choke the life out of him?” Ronan felt what little was in his stomach rise up, burning the whole way.

  “What? Fuck you, Ronan!” Tony turned to Tennyson, his face a mask of shock and horror. “Fuck you too, if you think I’m capable of doing anything like that to a child. I’m not saying another word. I want my PBA delegate and a lawyer.”

  “That’s your legal right, Tony, but if you get a lawyer in here, we can’t help you anymore.” This was a best-case scenario. Tony ending the interview early by asking for a lawyer was just what Ronan needed. That would get them out of this room and give him an opportunity to start proving Tony’s innocence by finding the real killer.

  Shit, that made him sound like OJ…

  “Help me? You’re not trying to help me! You’re trying to fucking bury me! Are you that hard up to solve this case and hold on to your precious detective’s shield that you’d take down the only damn friend you have, Ronan?” Tony crossed his arms over his chest.

  “You did this, Tony. You know you killed this boy and now we do too.” Ronan felt sick to his stomach. If this kept up much longer, he was going to throw up right here in the interrogation room. His performance had really fooled Tony, which was the point, but he still felt like shit. Obviously, not as bad as Tony felt, but that couldn’t be helped at the moment, but there would be time to sort this all out later.

  “Yeah, well fucking prove it!” Tony’s dark eyes blazed with anger and what looked like righteous indignation.

  “If you didn’t do it, who did?” Tennyson asked softly. “Who hates you enough to set you up?”

  Ronan turned to Tennyson. “This isn’t Law and Fucking Order, Tennyson. People don’t get set up in the real world. Perry Mason isn’t going to burst in here at the last minute with the piece of evidence that’s going to save Tony’s sorry, child-murdering ass, and Matlock isn’t going to come up with some clever question to get the real killer to admit his guilt.”

  “Right now, the only person who hates me enough to set me up for this murder is my best friend!” Tony sneered, pointing the finger at Ronan. “Why don’t you ask your ghosts about him!”

  “In the meantime, I’ve heard enough.” Ronan stood up and pulled his handcuffs out of the inside pocket of his jacket. “Tony Abruzzi, you’re under arrest for the mur
der of Michael Frye. You have the right to remain silent…”

  “Fucking do something, Tennyson!” Tony shouted. “Talk to the dead kid. He knows I didn’t do this!”

  Ronan cuffed Tony and led him toward the interrogation room door, continuing to recite his Miranda warning as he went. His heart had never been more broken in his life as he recited the words both he and Tony had said thousands of times to countless perps over the years, but never in his wildest thoughts did he ever imagine he’d be reciting those words to his best friend.

  He knew the only person now who could help Tony was the dead kid. Ronan could only pray Tennyson could get Michael’s spirit to talk.

  32

  Tennyson

  Tennyson sat at Ronan’s desk while Ronan was with Tony. He knew Tony was going through the booking process; having his fingerprints entered into the system and his mugshot taken. He couldn’t imagine what Tony was going through and this was only the beginning.

  Tony was going to need a good lawyer, he’d need to explain what was going on to his wife and kids, and Tennyson knew the media coverage surrounding this case was going to be a circus. When Michael’s remains had been found, the story had garnered a mention on the national nightly news broadcasts. He had no doubt in his mind that the arrest of a prominent Boston homicide detective for the murder of a five-year-old boy was going to bring the network news anchors to town.

  “God damn it, Tennyson!” Ronan’s voice boomed across the squad room.

  He had a feeling this was coming. With a sigh, Tennyson stood up to face Ronan, who he had no doubt was as angry as a bull about to charge a matador. Ten could only hope Ronan remembered the cameras were recording this scene from all angles. “You bellowed, Ronan?”

  “What the hell were you trying to pull in there with that set up bullshit?” Ronan shouted as he marched toward Tennyson.

  Tennyson stood his ground. He took a minute to look around at the other detectives in the room. Some of the men looked concerned while others were practically salivating over the drama unfolding before their eyes. Ten knew he was perfectly safe with Ronan. “Maybe we should take this conversation some place more private?”

  “Why, so you can shut me up with your dick? That’s not gonna work, Ten! I want answers now!” Ronan’s face was beat-red like a lobster that had just come out of a boiling pot at a Fourth of July picnic.

  Tennyson heard the gasps and snorts from the cops around them. Ronan was going to regret saying that later. “You said it yourself that you don’t think Tony killed Michael. If he didn’t do it, then someone planted that hair in the boy’s underpants before he was placed in the trash bag and buried, right?” Tennyson didn’t bother to wait for Ronan to agree with him. “The last time I spoke with Michael, he told me his killer couldn’t be punished which led me to believe the man was already dead, but you thought it meant he was a cop. If his killer was a cop, it would also explain why no one in the Frye’s neighborhood heard the boy scream for help when he was abducted.”

  “The Officer Buddy program,” someone shouted from behind Tennyson.

  “What’s that?” Tennyson turned around to ask.

  Detective Mick O’Dwyer stepped forward. “A bunch of cops volunteer to go to the local schools and do Officer Buddy interactions with the kids. You know, show them that cops are their friends and not people they should fear. We do it in kindergartens and elementary schools in Boston. I, uh, hate to say it, but Tony used to volunteer for that program.”

  “A lot of us volunteer for that program, O’Dwyer,” someone else shouted.

  “Yeah, but your DNA didn’t show up on Michael Frye’s body, Perkins!” Ronan returned.

  “What the hell is going on in here?” Captain Fitzgibbon raced into the squad room from the direction of the stairs. “Is this a police precinct or a nursery school?”

  Ronan turned around to face his captain. Tennyson saw him take a deep breath and dashed to his side knowing that nothing good was going to come out of what Ronan had been about to say. He grabbed Ronan’s arm. “Is there a list?”

  Ronan shot Tennyson an angry glare. “A list for what?”

  “Cops who volunteered for the Officer Buddy program? Might be a good lead, right?” Christ, he needed to get Ronan to calm down now. Not even his pocketful of colorful rocks would be able to help Ronan if he got himself suspended or thrown off the force for being insubordinate to his captain.

  Ronan’s hands balled into fists at his side. “While you waste your time with the list, I’ll be out doing real police work. Alone!” Grabbing his coat, Ronan headed toward the stairs, he didn’t offer a backward glance at Tennyson.

  “My office, Grimm!” Captain Fitzgibbon called out.

  Well, shit. Was he going to get his walking papers now? He followed along behind Ronan’s captain. He could feel the eyes of the other cops in the room on his back as he moved.

  “Have a seat. I’ll pull the list.” Fitzgibbon sat down behind his massive desk and started to hunt and peck on his keyboard. A few seconds later, the printer behind his desk whirred to life, spitting out page after page.

  “You know that I don’t believe much in what it is you do, Tennyson,” the captain started, “but I can see tiny sparks of Ronan believing in you and your gift. This list might be a huge waste of time or it could be the clue that cracks this case wide open.”

  Tennyson nodded. He was used to skeptics. In a way, they were the people who earned him true believers. “What was it your father used to say about seeing the universe in a grain of sand?” Tennyson grinned widely at the stunned looking cop.

  “I- What?” Captain Fitzgibbon looked stunned. “That was a line in a poem by Blake. He used to quote it all the time. I never understood what it meant until I was older. How did you know that he used to say that to me?”

  “He told me to mention it to you if I got the chance.” Ten waggled his eyebrows and folded his arms over his chest.

  “You spoke to my father?” The captain sounded dumbfounded.

  “Your mother too, but I got the impression the Blake line would pack the biggest punch.”

  Fitzgibbon nodded. “They’ve both been gone a long time.”

  “Not long enough for them to stop looking in on you. You’re still their little Stormtrooper.”

  The captain burst out laughing. “I used to watch Star Wars all the time. My Halloween costume every year for five years was a Stormtrooper.”

  “You had to give it up that sixth year because the costume was bursting at the seams.” Ten laughed along with him.

  “My head got stuck in the helmet. Had to use half a pound of butter to get it off.” Fitzgibbon wiped away tears as his laughter calmed down.

  Tennyson stood up to collect the list of Officer Buddy volunteers off the printer.

  “Listen, Tennyson, I don’t think Abruzzi killed the boy either, but we have to go where the evidence leads. You need to go back to Michael and make him talk to you. I know you’ve said he’s being closed-mouthed about what happened and who did this to him, but you have to get him to spill the details or an innocent cop is going to spend the rest of his life in prison for killing him.”

  Tennyson nodded. He’d treated Michael with kid gloves every time they’d spoken, but now, with an innocent life in the balance it was time for those gloves to come off. It was time to stop playing Mr. Nice Guy with Michael’s spirit and with his bull-headed partner.

  33

  Ronan

  Ronan deserved an Oscar for his performances this morning, if he did say so himself. The problem with said performances is that they were likely going to get him into a lot of trouble with the people he cared about most, not to mention with his boss.

  He knew all would be forgiven with his office theatrics when he pulled a Perry Mason and delivered Fitzgibbon the real killer. Christ, he really needed to stop using that phrase.

  Setting things to rights with Tennyson and Tony might be a bit harder to pull off.

  Step one in that m
ission was to text Tennyson and tell him to meet Ronan outside. They had work to do, once he explained himself and asked for Tennyson’s forgiveness. He was sure his partner/boyfriend would forgive him because that’s the kind of man Tennyson was.

  He dashed off a quick message and sat in the Mustang, with the heater on full-blast, waiting for Ten to come outside to meet him. He rubbed one of the fluorite crystals in his right hand and tried to calm himself down.

  Putting his best friend in handcuffs and then booking him as a murder suspect was something he was never going to forget. Someday, he hoped that he and Tony were going to be able to laugh about today, but Jesus, it was going to take an awful lot of good police work on his part and a metric ton of forgiveness on Tony’s to ever get to that day.

  Ronan was shaking his head at the thought of the Herculean effort it would take to rebuild their shattered friendship, when the passenger-side door to the Mustang was yanked open.

  Tennyson threw himself inside. “You bellowed?” His face was flushed and he wore a sour look on his handsome face.

  Under any other circumstances, Ronan would have laughed and then kissed the grumpy look off Tennyson’s face. “There’s a lot I have to tell you. I’ll be the first to admit I was a total prick last night for hiding in my apartment. My only excuse is that I’m in a no-win situation here.” Ronan’s stomach hurt just looking at Tennyson’s stiff posture.

  Tennyson sighed and looked up at Ronan. “We’re partners on this case. I thought we were working toward being…” He threw his hands up. “I don’t know, being partners outside of work too and you just shut me out, Ronan.”

  “You’re right, I did. I’m sorry for that, Ten. I’m not used to having you around for me like that, like a boyfriend. I’m still so fucked up by the way things ended with Josh and when it comes to having a partner at work…” Ronan trailed off. Tennyson would know where he was going with that thought.

  Tennyson stayed silent for a moment. “Why didn’t you have a partner on the cold case unit?” Ten sounded genuinely interested.