by Pandora Pine
Ten’s eyes popped open. “I could never do that! These people need my help.”
“If you’re so appalled by this why did you tell me and Cole to learn the blocking exercises? Why did you tell us about setting times to work and times to be off duty? Remember the lesson about flashing the off-duty light like the Boston cabs have? Why did you teach us to do this if you weren’t doing it too?”
“I didn’t want you and Cole to end up like me.” It was a hard admission to make. “My job is who I am. I feel like I’m worth something when I’m helping people out.”
“Oh, Ten. You’re always worth something. You are an amazing friend. Everyone who knows you loves you. The problem is that until now, you’ve never done anything for yourself. Didn’t you say that until that day in Maine you’d never slept through the night uninterrupted?”
Ten nodded, feeling like shit. It was true. From the time he’d experienced his first visitation at thirteen until that day a few weeks ago in Maine, he’d never had an uninterrupted night’s sleep.
“If you haven’t slept through the night in seventeen years, you’re an idiot. Isn’t that what you’d tell me? If you don’t get a handle on this now, how are you going to be a father? Are you going to dump your two-year-old to help a ghost instead of spending time with him?”
That was harsh, but Ten had a feeling he knew what Carson was trying to say. “I hear you. I’ll work on it. I promise.”
“You heard us talking, me, Cole and now Kevin, about doing anything for our kids. When you’re a father yourself, you’ll be that way too, Ten. You’ll see that it will be so much better in the long run if you get yourself settled now.”
“You’re right. I’ll work on it with Ronan. He’s coming down tonight after work.”
“Maybe you could take a page out of that book and make him dinner?” Carson winked.
24
Ronan
“Back to the morgue.” Tennyson’s voice sounded cheerful as Ronan parked the Mustang.
“You just want to hear what happened between Vann and Broughan after we left the party the other night.” Ronan grinned.
“Oh, and you don’t?” Ten laughed as he climbed out of the car.
“Maybe.” Ronan was just happy that there was a smile on Ten’s face instead of fear over the thought of going back to see the medical examiner. At least this time there would be no body on the table for them to look at.
“Oh, come on. You know you’re just as interested as I am in what’s going on with them.”
Ronan was more than interested. If Vann hooked up with Broughan, then he would finally stop flirting with Tennyson. “They’d make one hell of a double date, right?”
Ten started to laugh. “It would be one of those nights we’d be kicking each other under the table.”
“Or laughing our asses off so hard it hurt in the morning.” That kind of night would be good for Tennyson.
“Or needing to bail them out of jail.” Ten rolled his eyes.
“Fuck that! We’d be right there in the cell next door.”
“That’s just what we need. A BPD detective and a police consultant spending the night in the lock up with a county medical examiner and a famed energy healer. There’s a punchline in there somewhere. I can feel it.”
“You can feel it when we get home. I promise.” Ronan waggled his eyebrows at Ten and held the door open.
“Ah, my two favorite visitors.” Vann Hoffman smiled when they walked through the door.
“I can’t imagine you get a lot of repeat visitors in your line of work, Vann.” Ronan shook his hand.
Vann barked out a surprised laugh. “True, I don’t. Which makes the two of you my favorites. Hell of a party the other night, Ten.”
Ronan rolled his eyes. Vann made it sound like it had been a kegger with hot guys that got broken up by the cops.
“Before or after I insulted the guest of honor?” Ten would never forget Broughan overhearing him say he was a snake oil salesman in reference to a comment Vann had just made.
“We had a good laugh about that later on.” Vann winked.
“Were you both naked at the time?” Ronan couldn’t help himself. He had to know what was going on between the two of them.
“A gentleman never kisses and tells,” Vann said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“They were dressed.” Ten laughed.
“And holding Carson’s babies.” Vann rolled his eyes. “Christ, we were there half the night. Your friends know how to party. I’m guessing the two of you were home snuggling and there we were chowing down on pizza and passing around babies. It was just like my college frat parties only we weren’t dressed or passing around infants.”
Ten burst out laughing. “I’m glad you had a good time.”
“I heard a rumor that the Owens family were Kung Fu Fighting later that night.” Vann was grinning from ear to ear.
Ronan shook his head. “We’ve got pictures of their injuries. The brother slapped his mother across the face and punched his sister. He broke her nose.” He handed his phone to Vann.
“Damn, that’s some messed up shit. All of this is over money?” Vann asked.
“That’s what it seems like from the outside looking in, but to be honest, I’m not sure.” Ronan shrugged.
“What do you mean?” Ten asked.
“Do you have the autopsy X-rays, Vann?” Ronan asked.
“Yeah, they’re up on the lightboard for you.” He led the way and flipped on the lights, illuminating Harold Owens skull, or what was left of it anyway.
“Whoever did this, hit Harold more than once. There was rage here. Overkill. Am I right, doc?” Ronan asked.
Vann nodded. “The medical examiner who conducted the original autopsy stated that he believed Harold Owens was struck three times with the murder weapon. I believe he was hit between five and six times. Based on the x-ray images and the photos taken, it looks to me like he was struck multiple times in the same spot. You’ll be able to corroborate that with crime scene pictures and cast-off blood evidence.”
“Can do. Did you write up a report of all of this for us?”
“Ronan, you know me better than that. Of course I did. I have a hard copy for you here and I’ve already sent it to Fitzgibbon too.”
“Is there anything of interest in the original autopsy?” Ten asked, staring at the x-rays.
“Harold Owens was a man in failing health. According to his bloodwork, he was on high blood pressure medication, his blood sugar was sky high, and he had pancreatic cancer.”
“Shit.” Ronan knew that was an instant death sentence. Pancreatic cancer was almost never discovered until it was too late to treat it and this was twenty years ago to boot. “Did he know?”
“I’m not sure. If he did, he wasn’t seeking treatment for it. My guess is no, he didn’t know. Have the wife or daughter mentioned anything about it?” Vann asked.
“Neither of them has mentioned it to us,” Ronan said.
“Well, bringing it up ought to re-ignite World War III,” Ten said.
“What do you mean?” Vann looked confused.
“The money they are fighting over is Harold’s life insurance money. How long did Harold have left to live?”
“A couple of months at most.” Vann shrugged.
“Oh yeah, that’s going to stir the pot. All the killer had to do was wait until spring and the money would have been theirs legally.” What a shit show this was going to be when he had to break the news.
Someone was angry to begin with. Angry enough to bash poor Harold’s skull in enough times for it to be considered overkill. All three of his suspects had anger issues. Question was, who was the angriest?
25
Tennyson
The line stretched for miles. From where he was standing, Tennyson couldn’t even see where it ended. In some spots there was only one or two spirits waiting for him, but in other places, the line was five or six ghosts deep. Ten couldn’t speak with everyone in the l
ine if he had a week.
Ten didn’t have a week. He didn’t have any time at all. He was on his way to Chili’s for their fajitas. The damn commercial advertising their new fajita plate on television was so repetitive that the jingle was an earworm Tennyson couldn’t get out of his head. He’d finally thrown in the towel and asked Ronan to take him.
He’d been working extra hard on his “off-duty” signal, but standing here in the Chili’s parking lot, it didn’t seem to be working. The spirits closest to him were shouting for him. Some were calling out his name. Others were pleading for Tennyson to help them.
Using his entire focus, he projected his off-duty message even harder. Ten was trying so hard that his head started to ache and he could feel blood dripping from his nose.
Wanting to get out of the parking lot, he turned around to ask Ronan to get him out of there, but Ronan was gone. Ten spun around and kept looking for the detective, but he was nowhere to be found. “Ronan?” he shouted.
The crowd of spirits swelled toward him. They were coming at him like a mob. Ten tried to run but one of the spirits had grabbed him. He tried to shake loose of the ghost, but it wouldn’t let him go. “Stop! Leave me alone!” Ten shouted.
More hands grabbed him. Another punched him. “RONAN!” Ten shouted. His voice cracked. Ten had never been so afraid in his life. Why was this happening to him? Why were the spirits ignoring his off-duty sign? Where the hell was Ronan?
Struggling to break free, Ten lashed out with his arms and tried to kick with his legs. The spirits felt strangely solid. “Help me, Ronan! RONAN!”
More blows were landed. Ten felt himself losing his balance, felt himself going down, felt himself hit the ground. He didn’t have a moment to catch his breath before he was being kicked. His legs, ribs and head were all targets. The sound of the mob shouting drowned out Ten’s pleas for help. He knew he was going to die. There was no way he could survive a beating like this. “Ronan…”
“Jesus Christ, Ten! Wake up, Tennyson.” Ronan was shaking his shoulders.
Tennyson took a gasping breath and sat bolt-upright in bed. The brightness of the light hurt his eyes. He was bathed in sweat and ached from head to toe. “Ronan?” Ten panted.
“I’m here, sweetheart, right here.” Ronan cupped the sides of his face. “Are you okay?”
“W-what happened?” Ten remembered the dream as clearly as if it were a movie he’d just watched.
“I was sound asleep and the next thing I knew, you were screaming my name and kicking the shit out of me. I’m gonna be black and blue from head to toe in the morning. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you okay?”
Was he okay? “I don’t know. I ache everywhere. I dreamed that we went to Chili’s and there was a line of spirits waiting to talk to me. When I wouldn’t read them, they attacked me. They were punching and kicking me. I was screaming for you. I thought I was going to die and then you woke me up.” Ten could feel his entire body shaking.
“Come here, babe.” Ronan pulled Ten into his arms and held him tight.
As good as it felt for Ronan to hold him, it hurt like a son of a bitch. “Ouch, Ronan.” Ten pulled back. “Why does it hurt so much to hug you?”
Ronan moved away from Tennyson and pulled the sheets all the way off his lover’s body. “Oh, my God, Ten!” Ronan gasped, his right hand came up to cover his mouth.
Ten looked down at his torso and legs which were covered in bruises. Some were small, like the fingerprint bruises Ronan sometimes left on his hips, others were large and round, like they’d been made by fists. “Holy shit.”
“It looks like you took a beating.” Ronan sounded horrified.
“In my dream I did, but how is it possible for that to manifest itself on my body?”
“I know this is more your area of expertise than it is mine, but didn’t you say the spirits in your dream were angry at you?”
Ten nodded.
“Is it possible that angry spirits can do humans harm like you see in the movies?”
Was it possible? Ten wasn’t sure. If his gift was working, he would have asked Bertha. She would have known for sure. “I don’t know, Ronan, and with my gift not working, there’s no one I can ask.”
“That’s it. We need more help.” Ronan’s tone brooked no argument.
“What do you mean we need more help?”
“There has to be someone in Salem who knows more about this stuff than we do. Someone more powerful than Carson and Broughan Beals. Someone who can do more for you than an esthetician or a masseuse.”
“Who?” Ten asked. For the first time since this whole odyssey began, he felt scared. Never once in seventeen years of working with the dead had a spirit ever tried to harm him.
“I don’t know. Stay here.” Ronan dashed out of the room.
While he was gone, it gave Ten a few minutes to pull himself back together. He ran his fingers over some of the bruises. They all hurt. How would he explain this to Carson? It would look like Ronan did this to him.
“Here we go.” Ronan was carrying his laptop like a book. He also had a cup of tea and a bottle of Advil. He set the tea down on Ten’s nightstand and handed the pain reliever to his lover before climbing back into bed and opening the computer.
Ten swallowed a couple of pills while he watched Ronan hunt and peck on the keyboard.
“Okay, this is interesting.”
“What is interesting?” Ten took a sip of his tea and looked over Ronan’s shoulder.
“It says here that people who have your gift and refuse to help people from the other side can have vivid dreams of spirits and physical manifestations of injuries.”
“How is that possible?”
“This Madam Aurora says that people like you are a conduit. Spirits know you’re capable of speaking to them and helping them cross over or speak to their loved ones. They are still able to feel human emotions, anger, fear, frustration. It can cause them to act out violently if they feel they aren’t being helped.”
“Are you saying I really was attacked tonight by spirits who thinking that I’m willfully not cooperating with them?” Ten shook his head. Jesus Christ, what was next? Could these spirits do more than bruise him? Could they cut him? Could they kill him?
“I don’t know, Ten. It says here in this article that Madam Aurora is a Salem psychic. She works downtown over by the Peabody Essex Museum. I bet she could answer these questions for you much better than I can.”
Tennyson knew who Madam Aurora was. Salem, Massachusetts was a relatively small city. The psychic community in Salem was also small, certainly not on par with the community in New Orleans and while not close-knit, all of the mediums in town knew who the others were even if they weren’t friends.
He’d approached her years ago when he first moved to Salem. He needed a job and a way to make a name for himself and establish a customer base of his own. The famous medium turned him down flat. Ten wouldn’t ask her for help if he were on fire and she were holding a hose.
Instead of responding to Ronan, Tennyson just wrapped himself around his lover and held on tight.
26
Ronan
It was a day for lies. Not that Ronan was proud of himself, but sometimes it was the only way. He’d told Tennyson he was on his way to work. Meanwhile he’d told Fitzgibbon he was working a lead on the Owens case. In reality what he really had done was scheduled a meeting with Carson at the Magick shop while Tennyson was at his Reiki appointment.
Hearing Ten screaming his name and feeling him thrashing around in the throes of the nightmare was bad enough, but seeing the bruises was the final straw. He didn’t know how it was possible to get beaten up by angry spirits in a dream, but Ronan was going to find out, starting with Carson.
The bell above the door jingled when Ronan walked through it. Cole looked up in surprise. “Ronan? What are you doing here?”
Ronan grinned. “I’m Carson’s 10am appointment.”
Cole frowned. He slid the computer
mouse from side to side and then started typing. “Ah, no, Sam Spade is Carson’s 10am.”
Ronan burst out laughing. “Seriously, man? Sam Spade was the detective in The Maltese Falcon.”
Cole gave him a blank look.
“Humphrey Bogart played Sam Spade in the movie version?” Crickets. Cole was looking at him like he’d lost his mind. “You’ve never heard of The Maltese Falcon?”
Cole shook his head.
“I made the appointment. I needed to talk to Carson without Ten knowing. Without anyone knowing.” Christ, this day was getting worse by the second.
“Ronan, what’s wrong? I could feel your anxiety from the bakery.” Carson looked concerned as he walked into the shop carrying a cup of coffee in one hand.
“Aside from Cole never hearing of The Maltese Falcon?” Ronan shook his head. “It’s Ten. I need to talk to you. Something bad happened last night…” Ronan trailed off. He could feel his fear rising to the surface.
“Okay, come with me.” Carson wrapped an arm around Ronan’s shoulder and led him to the reading room. Once they were in the room with the door shut, he ushered Ronan to a chair. “Tell me what’s going on. Don’t leave anything out.”
Ronan took a deep breath. “Tennyson had a nightmare last night.” Ronan shook his head. “Actually, nightmare isn’t a strong enough word. It was a night terror. He woke me up out of a sound sleep screaming my name. He was kicking his legs and swing his arms as if he were fighting for his life. I turned on the lights and managed to wake him up. The look in his eyes was pure terror. But that wasn’t the worst of it, Carson.” Ronan felt tears threatening and let them fall.
“It’s okay. Whatever it is, we’ll take care of it, Ronan.” Carson set a hand on his shoulder.
“Ten said he was sore all over, which I believed since he’d been fighting so hard in his dream, but then I noticed a mark on his side. When I pulled the covers back to get a closer look, I noticed he was covered in bruises.”
“Covered in bruises? What? Like you mean he hit himself during the dream?” Carson’s eyes narrowed.