Dead Silent (Cold Case Psychic Book 3)

by Pandora Pine

  “God, yes! She was the best dresser and got all the men!” Ten clapped his hands together in obvious glee.

  “Who would I be?” Ronan loved seeing Tennyson in this mood. This was the happiest he’d seen Ten in ages.

  “Come on, Ronan! You’d be the Dorothy! You’re grumpy and always complaining about something!”

  “But you love me, right?” Ronan parked the car in the morgue lot and turned to face Tennyson.

  “Damn straight.” Ten kissed him. “To the morgue and back, Detective Grumpy Pants. Now let’s get this over with.” Ten hopped out of the car.

  Ronan led them into the building, surrendering his gun to the Suffolk County Sheriff’s deputy and walked through the metal detector. He couldn’t help noticing how much more relaxed Tennyson was during this trip to the medical examiner’s office. Every other time they’d been here it was to see the remains of a murder victim. Both times the deceased had been a child.

  He also couldn’t help wondering if part of Tennyson’s sense of unease had to do with the spirits haunting this place and trying to speak with him. This time around though, they weren’t here to see the dead body of a child and Ten couldn’t hear any voices at all, except his own. Ronan could only see these things as positives.

  “Well, if it isn’t Ronan and my favorite psychic!” Doctor Vann Hoffman gushed when they walked into the morgue.

  Ronan rolled his eyes. Once upon a time, before he’d met his ex-husband, Ronan had thought he and Dr. Feelgood might have a shot at something, but that was a long time ago. Now it seemed the good doctor had his sights set on Tennyson.

  “How are you, Vann?” Ten asked.

  “Better now that you’re here.” His charming smile lit up the room. “Has Ronan put a ring on it or are you still in play?”

  Ronan stepped closer and half-growled at the doctor who had always reminded him of the actor Hill Harper. If he kept flirting with Ten, he was going to punch the ME in his handsome face. Trying to remember he was a professional and not the caveman Ten sometimes accused him of being, Ronan decided on another tact. “Broughan Beals,” he said instead.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, don’t fucking remind me,” Vann moaned.

  “This must be good.” Ten rubbed his hands together with glee. “Did you finally get up the nerve to call him?”

  Broughan Beals was a local energy healer who was starting to make a name for himself. A few months back, he’d given a lecture and demonstration at the Wang Theater across town which Vann had attended. He’d gone as a skeptic and had fallen hard for the smooth-talking redhead. The last time he and Ten had been here on business Vann was trying to decide if he was going to call the ridiculous man. Vann’s words, not Ronan’s.

  “Yes,” Vann grumped, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

  “And?” Ronan was anxious to hear what happened. Maybe if Vann finally hooked up with Broughan, he’d stop staring at Ten like he was starving and Ten was prime rib.

  “It was WWE Smackdown,” Van admitted with a small grin.

  “What?” Ten started to laugh. “Smackdown as in you guys were fucking so hard you broke furniture? Damn, man. I had a feeling you’d be an animal in bed.”

  “Wait!” Holy fucking shit... “You think about what Doctor Hot Pants is like in bed?” Ronan’s eyes narrowed.

  “Oh, grow up, Ronan.” Ten rolled his eyes. I’m a midwestern boy who grew up in the fucking Bible Belt. I was so sexually repressed my fucking balls didn’t descend until I was in my twenties. I think about what a lot of people are like in bed. So do you.”

  Okay, fine.” Ten had a point. He’d thought about what Vann was like in bed too, but that was long before he’d met Tennyson. “Fine, maybe I think about shit like that too...” He waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Who the fuck topped, you or him? Did he magically heal your sore ass or cock when you were done?” Ronan snorted and started to laugh.

  Ten joined in and before long they were both laughing like hyenas.

  “I have to say this is the first damn time anyone has laughed like that in my morgue.” Vann was grinning, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  Ronan cleared his throat and tried to pull himself together. “Tell us what happened. We promise not to laugh.” He looked up at Ten and started to giggle again. It was like being a little boy in church and getting a case of the giggles.

  “Yeah, right.” Vann turned to walk away.

  “Wait!” Ten reached out and grabbed the ME’s elbow. “We’re sorry, Vann. Neither of us understand how Broughan’s gift works.” Ten’s voice cracked over the word gift. “Me more than anyone should know better than to belittle another man’s gift.”

  “I’m sorry too, man. What happened?” Ronan was always the first to admit when he’d been a first-class dick. He was being one now.

  “Like I said, it was WWE Smackdown, but none of our clothes came off,” the doctor sounded ashamed.

  “Ohhh,” Ten sighed. “Were you in public?”

  Vann nodded. “I’m just lucky we didn’t make that stupid gossip column in The Boston Herald.”

  The Herald was famous for their Inside Track column. It had been a feature in the paper for decades, made, of course, easier in today’s age of iPhones with cameras. Vann Hoffman wasn’t exactly a Boston celebrity on par with Mark Wahlberg or Matt Damon, but he made the six o’clock news often enough for people to recognize who he was with his dashing good looks and charming smile.

  “What started it?” Ronan had a feeling he already knew. Energy healer versus medical doctor. It was like putting a Trump and a Clinton supporter in the same room: no common ground, nothing to agree on. In short, World War III.

  “It started out nice. We grabbed a beer, shared an app. He’s so fucking handsome.” Vann sighed. “You wouldn’t think green eyes and red hair would be my jam, but...” He shrugged. “Anyway, we decided to order dinner since it was going so well. We’d only been talking about the Sox and their chances at the pennant. We both love them, so what was there to argue about?”

  Ronan could name a dozen things: their starting rotation, Price’s pitch count, firing the manager at the end of the season, why David Ortiz didn’t have a job in the organization. If Curt Schilling should make the Hall of Fame…

  “What happened over dinner?” Ten set a hand on Vann’s shoulder.

  Vann offered Ten a grateful smile.

  It occurred to Ronan that Vann flirting with Ten was just bravado on his part, a role he was playing. Vann was no more interested in Ten than Ronan was in him. Damn he was a dick.

  “We started talking about his healing powers. I asked him how they work and he couldn’t tell me. I mean, he said that the energy is just in his hands.” Vann held his hands up. He stared at the backs for a few seconds before turning them over.

  “Your power is in your hands too,” Ten said softly.

  Vann looked up at him with his mouth hanging open. He took a deep breath looking like he was about to argue.

  Ten held up his own hands to stop him. “Hold on a sec. I know exactly what you’re going to say. You went through four years of pre-med, four years of medical school, five years of residency. I know, Vann. Broughan knows too.” Ten squeezed his shoulder. “Do you believe in my gift?”

  Vann nodded. “You found that Lanski boy in Scituate last January and then Michael Frye’s remains.”

  “Right, well you had proof of my gift then, but did you believe in my gift before then?”

  “I didn’t know you before then, but no, I would have thought you were a fraud too,” Vann sounded ashamed of his words.

  “Fair enough. You would have been a skeptic because you had no proof, right?”

  Vann nodded.

  “So, you’d believe in what Broughan does if you saw him heal someone and had proof that the person he healed was actually broken and then healed, right?” A sad look crossed Ten’s face at Ronan’s words.

  “What are you saying, Ronan?”

  “Oh my God. That’s w
hy we’re here, isn’t it?” Ten turned to Ronan with wonder in his voice.

  Ronan nodded. “It’s part of the reason. We really are here to talk about Harold Owens, but this is the other part. Do you want to tell Vann or do you want me to, babe?”

  “I will,” Ten said. He took a deep breath. “I really struggled after the Justin Wilson case wrapped up. All of those dead teenage boys and what happened to Captain Fitzgibbon...”

  “I worked on those boys, Ten. I feel you,” Vann agreed.

  “I booked a trip to Maine to unwind and find myself again. There were so many spirits there who wanted to talk and I kind of lost my shit. I shouted at them to leave me alone and then I wished my gift away. When I woke up, my gift was gone. It’s been three weeks.”

  Vann studied Ten for a minute. “I thought there was something different about you, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Every other time you’ve come here you’ve been tense and scared. I’d chalked it up to you being in a place with dead bodies and spirits of murdered people. Now it’s like you’re at peace here.”

  “In a way, I am.” Ten shrugged.

  “I was hoping that you could call Broughan and see if he had time to work with Ten. He’s tried things like massage and facials and visualization exercises, but none of them have worked,” Ronan chimed in.

  “Have you spoken with anyone on the other side for advice?” Vann asked.

  “Look at you with the lingo.” Ten laughed. “We spoke with someone who I’m very close to and she said my gift isn’t gone. It’s just blocked. I sent it away and I’m the only one who can bring it back.”

  “I get that you and Broughan didn’t leave off on good terms, so I’ll call him myself.” It had been worth a shot. Ronan had figured if Vann had an in with the healer, he might be able to get an appointment set up sooner, but come hell or high water, Ten was going to see the energy healer.

  “No, I’ll call him. I owe him a big-time apology. It’s long past time I make it.” Vann straightened his broad shoulders. “Before I eat some well-done crow, let’s talk about Harold Owens...”

  17

  Tennyson

  Three days later, Tennyson and Ronan were in Carson and Truman’s living room. The gang was all assembled, including Bertha Craig and surprisingly, Erin O’Mara.

  Carson said that there was no way Erin was going miss being there for her other favorite son. That alone had Tennyson on the verge of tears. The worst part about losing his gift was missing his daily chats with Ronan’s mom. Sometimes they chatted about something ridiculous Ronan did or said, but most of the time, Tennyson asked Erin questions about herself and her life with Ronan. He still spoke to her, but now he couldn’t hear her answers.

  Vann Hoffman was also there. He was charming every man in the room and that included the very straight Cole Craig. They were in the dining room talking about the Red Sox starting rotation.

  Somehow, he’d managed to apologize to Broughan Beals and then get the man to take his call. Rumor had it, his apology included two dozen white roses and a poem Vann wrote for the healer. Vann was mum on the details, but according to him, Broughan and the delivery man were teary-eyed by the time he finished reading it aloud.

  Tennyson could have cared less if the apology included skywriting and a cuddly, black-market tiger cub. Broughan was coming here tonight to help him and that’s all that mattered.

  “Jesus Christ, Mom!” Carson slapped his hand over his face in an overly dramatic face-palm.

  “What’s wrong?” Ten asked. His nerves were on edge as it was. He couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong tonight.

  “The moms want to know when the beefcake is going to get here.” Carson grimaced.

  “Is he cute?” Ten asked distractedly.

  “Is he cute?” Vann practically bellowed. “He’s the handsomest man since Denzel!”

  Carson burst out laughing. “I thought Broughan was a redhead?”

  Vann raised an elegant eyebrow. “You saying a black man can’t be as handsome as a ginger?”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Tennyson muttered.

  “Ah...?” Carson’s mouth was hanging open.

  “I’m just fucking with you, man!” Vann slapped Carson’s back. “Denzel is sweet, dark chocolate, but Broughan is...” Vann shook his head. “He’s like an instant boner. I can’t describe him any other way. Like lightning in a bottle.”

  “Unfortunately, you’ve got a bad case of opposites attracting.” Ten shook his head.

  “Why, because I’m black and he’s white? Ebony and ivory?’’ Vann winked at Carson.

  “Jesus, take me now,” Ten muttered. “No, asshole, because he thinks you don’t believe in his gift. You’re a trained medical professional and he’s a snake oil salesman!” Ten half-yelled.

  “Snake oil salesman?” A soft voice said from behind him.

  Oh fuck... “Any second now would be good, God!” Tennyson turned around. A tall redheaded man was standing behind him. The man’s hands were shoved in his pockets and his dimples were on full display.

  “Well, shit, I figured out of all of you, the charlatan would be on my side!” The stranger said.

  “Motherfucker...” Tennyson mumbled. This was the person he needed to help him most and he’d just insulted him. Great, just great. He looked up at Broughan Beals. Of course he was just as gorgeous as Vann said he was, with his green eyes sparkling like emeralds. Thankfully those Irish eyes were smiling at him.

  “Broughan Beals. You must be Tennyson.” He held out his hand, thankfully there wasn’t a knife in it.

  “The one and only.” Tennyson shook his hand. He breathed a bit easier now that Broughan was smiling at him and not looking like he was going to punch him in his stupid face. Which he absolutely deserved. He focused on their handshake and didn’t feel any kind of healing energy flowing between them.

  “I haven’t started yet.” Broughan grinned.

  “I’m so sorry. What you heard was… Vann said that-” Tennyson threw his hands up in the air.

  Broughan laughed. “Say no more, Tennyson. If Vann is involved then you can’t be blamed for what came out of your mouth. I learned that the hard way.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Vann’s bright smiled soured.

  “It’s good to see you too, Vann. I’m glad the flower deliveries stopped. If you’d sent any more roses, I could have entered my house in the Tournament of Roses Parade.”

  “Christ, you’ve got it worse than I thought, Dr. Feelgood!” Ronan slapped Vann on the back. “Ronan O’Mara. It’s nice to meet you at last.”

  “Same. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Broughan shook his hand.

  “All bad things, I trust?” Ronan grinned.

  Broughan snorted. “Pretty much.”

  “Remind me never to let you host a party.” Truman muscled his way between Ronan and Tennyson. “Hi, Broughan. I’m Truman Wesley, Carson’s husband. Let me introduce you around.”

  Broughan held up a hand to wave before Truman led him away.

  “Told you he was a fox.” Vann’s smile was as bright as the sun.

  “Did you ever,” Ronan agreed. “I wish I had a jungle gym like that in my backyard.”

  Vann laughed. “Hands off, pal. This one is mine.”

  “Yours?” Ronan laughed. “He barely looked at you cross-eyed.”

  “Are you for real?” Vann slapped a hand against Ronan’s head as if he were checking him for a fever. “If you fools weren’t here, he would have been all over me.”

  “Guys, we are here to help me get my gift back, not to get you laid or to climb jungle gyms,” Ten said with a touch of queen in his voice. “If you want to have a dick measuring contest, go out back.” Shaking his head, Ten walked away, running straight into Carson.

  “Umm, I don’t know what question this answers,” Carson said, linking arms with Tennyson, “but my Mom and Erin say, ‘Vann, hands down and hands up and hands down.’ Does that mean anything to you?” Carson bit his bottom lip.

  “Yeah
, it means I need to go take a bath with razor blades. Jesus fucking Christ.” Ten’s head felt like it was going to explode.

  “Okay everyone. Can I have your attention please?” Broughan not only was the tallest man in the room, but also the loudest. “I had a chance to meet everyone here tonight and I just want to thank you all for making me feel so welcome here and for sharing some amazing stories about Tennyson with me.”

  Ten was touched that his friends had done that for him. Despite the shitty mood he was in at the moment, everyone in this room had always been there for him.

  “I usually leave this up to my clients, Tennyson. Do you want to meet with me in private? Or here with all of your friends love and support surrounding you?”

  Five minutes ago, Ten would have said alone. Hell, he wouldn’t have even wanted Ronan in the room with him, but now he was changing his mind. Looking around, everyone had such eager looks on their faces. They all wanted to help him. “Out here with my family.”

  “Like you could have kept them away!” Cole hooked his thumb over his shoulder to where Bertha and Erin were obviously standing.

  “Truman and Carson, would you each grab a chair from the dining room and set them facing each other for me?” Broughan asked.

  Tennyson was starting to get nervous. He had no idea what was about to happen and now he was locked into whatever that was happening in front of everyone.

  “Tennyson?”

  He turned around to see Greeley standing behind him. “Hey there! I didn’t even see you tonight.”

  Greeley smiled. “You’ve been so busy and I didn’t want to interrupt. I just wanted to wish you all the best tonight.” He held his arms open for a hug.

  Ten gently hugged the young man. It was a big step for him to voluntarily offer to touch another person. His group therapy at rehab and his time with Fitzgibbon must be working wonders for him. “Thank you. It means so much that you came here tonight.”

  “I brought you something.” Greeley waved to Fitzgibbon.