Dead Speak

by Pandora Pine

  Using his common sense, he had to figure they were still in Massachusetts. Josh had spirited him off in a Boston Police Department cruiser. If an all-points bulletin had been issued for Josh and the car, he would need to get to ground fast. New Hampshire was an hour north, same for Rhode Island and it was just a little bit further to eastern-most Connecticut. He’d bet his bottom dollar they were still close to Boston. Southie or Quincy maybe, somewhere that was special to Josh and that Ronan knew how to find.

  “Welcome back to the world of the living, ghost whisperer.” Josh sounded jovial, as if Ten were a long-lost friend Josh had been dying to see.

  “Fuck off.” Tennyson was sick of being polite. His face hurt like hell and his heart was aching over what this asshole had in store for Ronan.

  Josh tisked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “That’s no way to talk to your host now, is it?”

  “If you were half the host you think you are, you’d offer to uncuff me and let me use the bathroom. I’ve gotta piss like a racehorse and the dried blood on my face itches.”

  Josh’s face broke into a wicked grin. “I’d be happy to let you use the bathroom, princess, but there’s no way I’m uncuffing you. It would be my pleasure to hold your dick while you drain the main vein.” Josh waggled his eyebrows. “Then we could get down to business since your business would already be out of your pants.”

  Tennyson did gag then. “No, thanks. I’d rather piss my pants.”

  “Do it and you’ll be licking up every drop from my grandmother’s carpet.” Josh winced, obviously not intending to tell Tennyson where they were.

  Ten grinned at his host. “Psychic, remember? I already know where we are.”

  “So, I guess that means you’ve sent up your Bat Signal and the psychic cavalry will be here any second now, huh?”

  “You really are an asshole. What the hell did Ronan ever see in you?” As much as Tennyson didn’t want to engage this prick, he had to know the answer to this question.

  Josh stared at Tennyson, not saying anything.

  Figuring he’d blown it, Tennyson turned away from his captor and turned his thoughts to Carson. He needed to get a message to his friend that he was safe for the moment and somewhere near the ocean.

  “No one ever says no to me,” Josh said. “I know what I want, and I go after it.”

  Josh’s abrupt words pulled Ten’s attention back to him. He had a feeling the overly confident prick would say something like this if he decided to answer Ten’s question. “And what you wanted was Ronan?”

  Josh just smiled in response. “You should have seen him back then, ghost whisperer. Younger and untouched by bitterness or scandal. He was one of those assholes who everything came easy for. Graduated at the top of his academy class. Made detective only a few years later, was snagged for homicide shortly after that…” He trailed off, his face burning with rage.

  “Let me guess, it was the complete opposite for you? Roadblocks at every turn and assholes like Ronan kicking you while you were down?” Ten figured it wouldn’t hurt to throw in a little Stockholm Syndrome for good measure. Feigning that he was on Josh’s side would hopefully keep him talking and keep his hands off Tennyson.

  Josh stalked to where Tennyson was lying on the floor. He kicked out at the psychic’s prone body, making contact with his left knee. “Don’t play games with me, you piece of shit. What do you know about having it rough, huh? Look at you with your fancy magic shop and your televised interviews and now a reality show. What the fuck do you know about struggling?”

  “Hmm, let me see,” Tennyson was in agony, but he wasn’t going to let Josh see that. “I was a gay, psychic kid growing up in an uber religious family in East Butt Fuck, Kansas. I was disowned from my family at seventeen and had to make my own way in the world from the second I got my high school diploma. So, I guess I don’t know anything about struggling, you pretentious prick!”

  Not that he was going to say it out loud, but Ronan hadn’t exactly been born with a silver spoon in his mouth either. His father had abandoned the family and his mother had struggled to raise Ronan on her own. Nothing had been handed to Ronan. He’d earned everything with hard work, but telling Josh that would only enrage him more. The last thing Ten needed was another kick or worse.

  “So, then I guess you know all about my story.” Josh’s soft words startled Tennyson more than if he’d shouted.

  Truth be told, Tennyson didn’t know anything more about Josh than what Ronan had told him and what he’d seen for himself the few times they’d met. The psychic energy he gave off scared Ten and he was afraid to reach out his senses to delve any deeper. “I don’t. It’s a rule that I never read people without their permission.”

  “Well then what the fuck do you call what happened back at the station?” Josh’s anger was back on full display.

  “You touched me, Josh. It’s called psychic transference. Kind of like showing me a movie on your cell phone, only the images were in your brain instead of on a screen.” Tennyson shivered, making the handcuffs rub against the already raw skin on his wrists. The images of Michael Frye’s last moments passed through his mind. The child had been shown no mercy. “Why?” Tennyson whispered, his voice finally breaking from the pain and stress of the day.

  “Why, what? Why did I take him? Why did I fuck him? Why did I kill him? So many whys…” Josh trailed off, seeming to be lost in his own thoughts. The slack look on his face tightened and Josh turned back to Tennyson with venom in his eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Tennyson shook his head. “No.” He was done. There were enough awful images in his head to last a lifetime.

  “Ten might not want to know why, but I do,” Ronan said casually.

  Tennyson couldn’t believe his ears. Ronan was here? Ronan had come for him. Now he was going to die.

  “Oh, good!” Josh clapped his hands together with glee. “Now the party can really begin.”

  45

  Ronan

  The minute Captain Fitzgibbon mentioned someplace special to himself and Josh, Ronan had instantly known where his ex had taken Tennyson. There was nowhere that was special to them as a couple, but Josh had inherited his grandmother’s beach house out on Crow Pointe in Hingham, near the yacht club. Since it was the middle of winter and in a rather well-to-do neighborhood, most of the people who lived there would be wintering in sunnier places. The Pointe would be a virtual ghost town.

  He didn’t like lying to Fitzgibbon and knew how dangerous facing Josh on his own, without backup, could be, so he’d called his captain when he was pulling up to the beach house. He didn’t want the captain to send out the call too soon and have the local Hingham cops beat him to the house before he’d had a chance to settle things with Josh once and for all.

  Ronan had flown down Interstate 93 South and did the same down 3A, pushing his cruiser to speeds passing one hundred miles per hour. He only slowed down once he was off the highway and navigating residential neighborhoods.

  Two blocks from the house, he parked the cruiser and continued on foot to the property. From what he remembered, Josh had hated his grandmother, calling her a creaky old hag, but he’d loved the beachfront property and couldn’t wait to get his greedy mitts on it.

  Hell, knowing what he knew now, it wouldn’t surprise Ronan if Josh had somehow accelerated the process of inheriting the property. He made a mental note to check into how Maeve Gatlin died, or better yet, he’d have Tennyson contact Maeve’s dearly departed soul and ask her how she’d passed.

  If Tennyson was still alive…

  There was no room now for thoughts like that. Ronan shook his head as he approached the back of the house. There was a large sliding glass door that looked out over the ocean. Thankfully the door faced east and the glare of the sun off the ocean was so bright that Josh would have a hard time seeing him approaching.

  He sidled up to the sliding glass door and managed a quick peek inside. He could see Tennyson sitting up and talking
to someone he assumed was Josh. Going in through the glass door was too risky. Ronan had a better idea.

  Running around to the front of the house, he remembered that Maeve kept a hide-a-key under a rock in the front garden. Ronan said a quick prayer that it was still there. Thankfully, it was. He grabbed it and made his way slowly to the front door.

  Ronan slowly worked the key into the lock, being as gentle as he could. He knew Josh would be on edge and didn’t want anything to alert him to Ronan’s presence. Josh wasn’t a stupid man, he’d taken Tennyson knowing that action would lure him here. Josh wasn’t going to kill either of them until his little game was all played out.

  After the lock clicked open, Ronan carefully pushed it open. He un-holstered his gun and flipped off the safety. As he moved through the front hall and back toward the living room, he could hear Josh and Tennyson speaking. He slipped his iPhone out of his pocket and set it to record, before placing it on the kitchen counter.

  “Why?” Tennyson whispered, his voice breaking.

  “Why, what? Why did I take him? Why did I fuck him? Why did I kill him? So many whys…” Josh trailed off. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  As Ronan edged around the corner, he could see Tennyson in the same position he’d observed from the outside. He was sitting on the floor with his hands cuffed behind him. There was dried blood on his face and crusted on his shirt. His left eye was blackened and nearly swollen shut.

  Tennyson shook his head. “No.”

  “Ten might not want to know why, but I do,” Ronan said casually. The soft tone of his voice surprised him. The rage boiling in his gut was like nothing he’d ever felt before. It was taking all the self-control he possessed not to shoot Josh on the spot.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my ex-husband, who didn’t waste any time at all in replacing me with a younger, gayer, model.”

  Ronan rolled his eyes. Josh always did have a flair for the dramatic. And revisionist history. Josh was the one who left him and not only traded him in for a twenty-something, but for a woman. “Is that really what you brought me down here to talk about? Your broken heart?”

  He knew damn well the question would launch Josh into a long-winded and outraged answer, which would give him time to check out Tennyson’s condition and the house for weapons and another way out. The sliding glass door was the most obvious way out of the house, but he’d bet Josh had set up some kind of trap.

  “You know you’re the love of my life, Ronan!” Josh practically screeched. “But, before we get into that, put your gun down and slide it over to me.”

  Ronan couldn’t help wondering if Josh’s poor, stupid wife knew that. He knew better than to ask that question out loud, what with Josh pointing his gun at Tennyson. Reluctantly, he bent forward and set his gun on the floor before sliding it over the hardwood floor to Josh. Now the prick had two guns.

  “Of course I know that, Pooh Bear.” Saying those words out loud turned Ronan’s stomach. Knowing Ten could hear them sent the pancakes he’d eaten this morning perilously close to making a return trip the way they’d gone down.

  Josh turned the gun in Ronan’s direction. “If you know that, then why are you with the ghost whisperer here?” Josh kicked out at Tennyson’s leg.

  Ronan saw his lover wince, but he didn’t cry out in pain. Josh was going to die for the pain he’d put Tennyson through. “Come on, you know how it works with guys like him.” Ronan hooked his thumb toward Tennyson, not making eye contact. He knew if he saw a pained look in Ten’s gorgeous dark eyes, he wouldn’t be able to keep the charade going. “You gotta suck some dick to get their help.” Ronan shot Josh a filthy smirk. All the while his stomach was pitching violently, like a paper boat in a hurricane. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this revolting game going.

  “He suck yours in return?” Josh’s eyes narrowed, the gun swinging back to Tennyson as if his arm were a crazed pendulum.

  “‘Course, but he’s nothing like you, Hoover,” Ronan snickered at the old nickname he’d had for Josh. What the dumb prick had never known was that the moniker wasn’t a compliment. He sucked Ronan’s cock so hard and so fast that it hurt. He’d always push Josh off and begged to be fucked just to stop the pain. Tennyson, on the other hand, was the perfect cocksucker.

  “Of course he isn’t,” Josh laughed. “Probably learned how to suck dick on the internet.”

  Ronan shrugged, taking a few steps forward, trying to put himself between Ten and Josh. “Since I’m here now, you don’t need this...bait anymore.” Ronan chanced a glance over his shoulder at Ten.

  His lover was a wreck. Tennyson’s face and the front of his shirt were covered in dried blood. His bottom lip was split and his nose was swollen, most likely broken too. His riot of dark curls was littered with what looked like gravel and only God knew what else, probably debris from the parking garage where he’d found a pool of blood. The look in Tennyson’s eyes was what broke Ronan’s heart into a million pieces. Ten looked like he’d just lost his best friend. Equal parts loss and betrayal were mirrored back at him.

  There would be time to explain that all of this was a charade later. What mattered now was getting Ten out of the house. He knew the Hingham Police would be there soon.

  “You want me to let him go?” Josh asked softly, sidling up to Ronan.

  “We’re together now. We don’t need an audience.”

  “No? You don’t want him to watch me fuck you into next week?”

  Ronan shivered with revolt. The mere thought of Josh touching him was enough to make him want to swear off sex for the rest of his life.

  Josh ran his free hand up Ronan’s thigh before palming his package. “Boy you must think I’m as dumb as a bag of rocks.” Josh slammed the butt of his gun into the side of Ronan’s face, sending him crashing to the floor.

  Ronan cried out and managed to scramble in front of Tennyson. He was woozy, but conscious. He should have seen that blow coming.

  “Maybe I’ll make you watch while I fuck your precious psychic into next week. Hmm?” Josh went to kick out at Tennyson again, but Ronan was ready, sweeping his leg out at Josh’s plant leg and sending his ex to the floor.

  “Are you okay?” Ronan asked Tennyson, keeping his focus on Josh, who had scrambled back to his feet.

  “Been better, but I’ll survive.”

  “Damn right you will.”

  “He killed Michael. Raped him too. I saw it in a vision, but he admitted it too.”

  “Aww, isn’t this a cute little reunion,” Josh sneered. “Too bad I’m gonna shoot you both.”

  “Fuck you, Josh!” Ronan pivoted on his knee, swinging himself back to his feet, making sure to keep his body between Josh and Tennyson. “How many boys were there?”

  “Wouldn't you like to know?”

  “Cut the bullshit games. You know you want to tell me.” Asshole narcissists like Josh always wanted to talk. It was their downfall ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent was getting shot by impatient cops who were sick of listening to them run their mouths.

  “More than I could ever keep track of...” Josh said, almost sounding wistful.

  “Sweet Jesus,” Tennyson murmured. “Twenty-two.”

  Not taking his eyes off Josh, Ronan sucked in a deep breath. “Twenty-two what?” Ronan had a bad feeling about this.

  “Boys he raped. Michael was the first one he killed.” Tennyson’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Why can you read him now when before he was such a blur?”

  Ten shook his head. “Evil’s a jumble sometimes, like a broken apart puzzle. Who knows what the picture makes up when the puzzle is in pieces.”

  “You have no idea what it’s like to burn like that.” Josh turned the gun back to Ronan.

  Ronan did have an idea and that’s what scared him. Every time he touched Tennyson, he burned for the man, but thankfully he would never feel that way for any gap-toothed five-year-old boys. “You’re right, I don’t. Why don�
�t you explain it to me?” Ronan kept his voice light and casual.

  Josh swiped the back of his free hand over his sweat-soaked brow. “I just had to have him. He had to be mine.”

  “Who, Michael?” Working in homicide, Ronan had never taken the confession of a pedophile before. He wasn’t sure he could handle this, but he needed to listen to every word. Convicting Josh would rest on his eyewitness account of this moment.

  “All of them,” Josh panted. “They were like crack to a drug addict. Chocolate cake to a fat guy. I couldn’t stop and one wasn’t enough.”

  Ronan shrugged as if what Josh just said wasn’t a big deal. “I hear you. I was there with my drinking. One shot, one bottle, was never enough for me.”

  “Yeah, I knew you’d understand, Ro. After all, you were the reason Michael had to die.”

  Ronan felt his blood run cold. His next words were crucial here. He needed to keep Josh talking. “I was?” God, he hoped his tone sounded curious rather than accusatory.

  “You were the man of my dreams.” Josh sucked in a rough breath. He swung his gun at Tennyson. “Look at him, ghost whisperer, he’s gorgeous. Tall and handsome, with those blue eyes that you could drown in, right?”

  Tennyson stayed silent.

  “RIGHT?” Josh roared, stalking closer. The gun shook in his hand.

  “R-Right, R-Ronan’s gorgeous. Especially his eyes.” Tennyson looked up at Ronan with desperation and sadness in his own dark orbs.

  Ronan vowed again that Josh was going to die for putting that look in Tennyson’s eyes.

  “What does how handsome I am have to do with Michael Frye?” Ronan needed to swing the conversation and the barrel of that gun back to him.

  “Right…” Josh shook his head. “All I wanted was to be normal. It was bad enough being gay, but to want to fuck little boys?” Josh put both hands to head as if he could crush those traitorous desires out of his skull. “I knew I could have a life with you if I could just stop the voices. All I had to do was stop the voices.” Josh dropped his hands and looked up at Ronan.

  “Just like with my drinking. I get what you’re saying. How were you going to do that?” Ronan had a feeling he knew exactly how Josh planned to stop the voices. His stomach twisted in on itself in anticipation of Josh’s next words.