by Aiden Bates
"I don't know," Ryan told him, honestly. "I absolutely think that my brain just short-circuited there. This is big. They're going to be pissed that I'm pregnant without their permission, or without a claim, or with so little time knowing each other—"
"Breathe, Ryan." The soothing little circles started up again. "It's just a couple of hours, that's all. In a public place, no less. It's going to be fine. We can have no-clothes time the rest of the weekend, I promise."
"Am I that easy to placate?" Ryan leaned back to meet his alpha's eyes.
"Are you saying no?" Nick grinned down at him and kissed his nose.
"Well I'm still going to sit here and panic until it's over." Ryan slumped down. He pretended to pout, but his fears were very real.
There was no way that Nick's family was going to tolerate Ryan, of all people. He was everything that respectable families hated. He had no family of his own. He came from a "troubled" background. He'd gone and gotten pregnant outside of a claim, he was still single at twenty-nine. Well, not single, but close enough to single to count in the eyes of most parents.
He barely slept on Thursday night, and only squeaked into the office on time by the barest of margins. Fortunately, Nick cut him some slack and let him nap in the car on the way down to South Boston.
They’d come up with a list of plumbers that had some indication of having been around in the seventies. Some of the original proprietors had passed on, which was frustrating. Some of them had been sold when the owners retired and were now operated by people very new to the neighborhood. Ryan could only imagine the fury that Will O'Neal felt now that he was competing with a McCarthy Brothers whose real last name was Nguyen or Ramirez.
They did find three plumbers' shops whose owners were all O'Neal's age or older, and all three of them were willing to cooperate with the investigation. They didn't know that they were helping to bust a neighbor for murder, of course. All the two detectives told them was that they had found a pipe at a crime scene with some unusual markings on it, and they were wondering if the plumbers could help them to decipher the meaning.
The plumbers, all staunch law-and-order guys, were more than happy to help the state police. And all three of them told the same story.
"Years ago, you know, back in like the seventies, the economy was bad. We're talking real bad. And it got so's people were doing anything they could to make an extra buck or two." The speaker was Mal Cavanaugh, who had to be pushing seventy-five. His fingertips were stained with yellow from years of tobacco use. "Can't say as I'd blame them, except for that whole part where they'd break onto a job site and steal the pipe.
"Sometimes the cops would catch them, but there was only so much that they could even do. Most of the time they'd just plead out, you know? Get a misdemeanor; be back on the street the next day doing the exact same thing. And there was nothing you could do about it. You couldn't prove that it was your pipe the guy stole. You couldn't even prove that it was stolen unless they caught him in the act.
"So me and a lot of the other plumbers, we'd mark our pipes. It didn't cost much, you know? And it cost a whole lot less than having to order a pile more than we needed just to fund some scrap metal thief's wallet, right?" Cavanaugh laughed at his own joke. "I mean, for real. And we all used different markings, so we could tell our property apart when we took our stuff back."
Ryan showed him the photo. "Do you know which plumbers used these marks, sir?"
"Oh yeah!" Cavanaugh laughed and rubbed his belly. "That one was for the O'Neals. Mean sons of bitches they were. I think the sons are running the shop now, right?"
"That they are, Mr. Cavanaugh." Nick smiled at their contact. He was the third plumber that day to identify the O'Neals as the owners of the pipe. "Just out of curiosity, before we head on over there, what is it about them that has people telling us how mean they are? I mean, I'd be kind of mean too if people kept stealing my inventory, right?"
"Meh. Pipe is pipe. Yeah, you want to keep it, and the costs add up, but it ain't worth hurting nobody over. Old Man O'Neal, though, I think he just wanted an excuse." Cavanaugh narrowed his eyes and looked out the window. "His old lady didn't go outside much. Finally died. Took a header off the top floor of the triple decker. Nobody's seen that girl of his since her boyfriend got himself killed, and that's a shame. You should have seen what they used to do to her. I mean, discipline is one thing but that was another." He sighed. "Well, I'm sure you guys have seen that stuff before."
"Yes, sir." Ryan put the photo back in its envelope. "We have. Thanks so much for your help, sir, and have a great weekend."
They headed back to their car, each trying to be calm and professional until they got back out on the open road. Then Ryan let his body relax fully, a relieved laugh bubbling up from his gut like a fountain. "We got it, Nick. We got them!"
Nick high fived him. "Hell yeah we did. That was awesome." He sobered up a little. "I'd feel better if we had a confession, to be honest. And we still have to wait on that DNA from the baseball bat. It's entirely possible that we're missing something. Not probable, but possible."
"True." Ryan nodded. "A confession would be best for everyone, even with the evidence. I mean, do you really want to put poor Rosa through a trial? Or Leanne, for that matter?"
"I'm still having trouble with the whole sympathy for Leanne thing." Nick squirmed. "Sometimes I have it, and sometimes I literally could not give less of a hoot. At the same time, I'm feeling pretty strongly about not giving that jackass any kind of a public podium to spout his crap from." He rubbed at the back of his neck before grabbing Ryan's hand. "Are you going to call Rosa or do you want me to do it?"
"I'll take care of it when we get back to the office. It'll be something to fortify me before the long weekend." He looked away.
"It's going to go just fine, babe. They'll love you. They have to."
"Why, because you'd beat them up if they didn't?"
"No." Nick smirked and squeezed Ryan's hand. "Because they're both smart people, and you're too a wonderful for them not to adore."
Ryan blushed but squeezed Nick's hand back anyway.
Once they were back at the office, Ryan had enough time to call Rosa Acker. "Hi, ma'am," he said, blushing as though she could see him. "I just wanted to give you an update on your brother's case."
"Please." She sounded so relieved to hear that there was news that he almost felt bad for not having called before, even though there wasn't any news to share.
"We were given the weapon that murdered Maureen O'Neal. We're waiting on lab tests to prove an airtight case on that, because we have concerns about defense attacking the witness. We already had DNA on the murder weapons that killed your brother, but now we have definitive evidence linking the crime back to two suspects." He took a deep breath when he heard her start to cry. "Ma'am, it's not over yet. We're still waiting on that DNA result, but the end is in sight. If we're lucky, we'll hopefully be able to make an arrest before December first."
"Thank you so much, Ryan. It won't bring him back. It won't bring either of them back." He could hear the tears in Rosa's voice. "But Ryan, it brings the whole ugly thing out into the light. It gives us, people like me, hope for some justice."
"That's why we're here, ma'am. We couldn't stop it, but we're trying to end it."
"God bless you, Ryan. And God bless Nick. You boys have a beautiful weekend."
"You too, ma'am. You too." Ryan hung up the phone, the knots in his stomach partially settled.
***
Nick only got Ryan to calm down Friday night about the family meeting by giving him a good, long massage. Nick's massage was so good, in fact, that Ryan fell asleep halfway through. That was fine. Ryan was pretty worked up about meeting Nick's family, and with good reason. Nick was happy to give him as much comfort as he could, and if that meant cuddling in his nice, big bed and watching a documentary about whales with the volume on low, then he could do that.
The next morning Ryan was a little more awake,
and a little more relaxed. A good night's sleep could do that for a guy. He helped Ryan relax even further with mutual blow jobs before breakfast, and then they showered and got ready to go.
Nick had taken stock of Ryan's reaction to his suggestion and urged his parents to meet him for lunch instead of dinner. It got the meeting over with, so Ryan could get his heart rate down. It was also a more casual meal, which should take the pressure off. They were scheduled to meet up at the California Pizza Kitchen over at the Natick Mall, which was a kind of neutral, fun location that they should all be able to tolerate.
Ryan insisted on getting flowers for Nick's mother. Nick thought that was a little excessive, but he saw the way Ryan's hands were shaking and he duly stopped at a florist on the way and picked up a small arrangement.
They arrived ten minutes early, because Ryan was terrified to be late. "Your dad's a cop, Nick. If we're late, he'll shoot me." Nick's parents arrived exactly on time, and Ryan and Nick stood up to greet them.
Mom and Dad were all smiles and hugs for their little boy. "Nick! Son!" His mother threw her arms around him and squeezed as tight as she could. "It's been a while, hasn't it? I heard that you got together with Vinny, and of course I heard all about your run-in with Danny, but you haven't come by to see us."
"Sorry, Ma." Nick ducked his head and blushed. "I've been a little busy at work."
"Oh yeah. I heard." His dad hugged him too and sat down at the table. Neither Mom nor Dad had taken any notice of Ryan yet. Nick wasn't sure how to take that. From the looks of things, Ryan was counting his blessings. "That old case. You know, it was an awful case when it happened. That poor kid, it was terrible what they did to him. I did not blame those people who were protesting, not one bit. I don't usually have a lot of patience for people who go marching in the streets, blocking traffic and being disruptive, but that was just terrible."
"I'm glad to hear you say that, Dad." Nick managed a little smile.
"That doesn't mean I agree with dredging all of that up again." His dad gave him a hard look. "It was a real black eye for the city, one we still haven't healed from. Every time we try to show the progress we've made, as a city or a state, people have to bring up that poor kid's death. A lynching, they call it. Why do you want to go and rip the Band-Aid off of that? The killers obviously haven't done it again, or someone would have burned the whole city down."
Nick winced to hear his father speak that way. Ryan cleared his throat, though. "Well, as it happens, sir, it wasn't so much a choice. No one sifted through old cold cases and said, 'Hey, this one looks like fun, let's take a crack at it.' Utility workers found another body. It was the remains of James Townsend's girlfriend. Buried, as it turns out, with the weapons that had killed James Townsend."
Nick froze. No one contradicted his dad, no one. And Ryan had been terrified of this moment, of saying the wrong thing, since they'd decided to get together. There was no trace of that fear now, though, as he looked up into Nick's dad's face.
"Is that so?" Dad stroked his chin.
"Yes, sir. And it's precisely because it was such a high profile case back in 1976 that they put Nick on it. They know that he's a good detective with excellent skills and instincts, who will follow every procedure to the letter so that no one can walk on a technicality. Nick will get these killers, sir, and he got this case because the higher-ups know that he's the only one who can." Ryan's eyes burned with conviction.
"I see. So you must be the new partner." Dad held out a hand to Ryan. "We've heard a little bit about you, from Danny."
"All good things," Mom added, elbowing her husband in the ribs. "Don't you worry, sweetie."
Ryan ducked his head and blushed. "Pleased to meet you both," he murmured, and passed the flowers over to Mom.
Mom and Dad exchanged knowing smiles, and Nick knew that he was doomed.
Conversation was mostly light and casual during dinner. They talked a little bit of shop, although most of it related to their days on patrol. Ryan had worked both on highway patrol and on accident reconstruction before making his way to Abused Persons, and he had plenty of funny stories from both of his earlier assignments. One of them involved a motorist who'd caused a four-car pileup because of a spider hanging from his rearview mirror, which had both of the senior Robles howling with laughter.
Dad told the story about the would-be bomb threat who called in a warning to a wrong number. He wound up getting a veterinary clinic in Jamaica Plain, which turned into an absolute circus of slobbering tongues, howling cats, and struggling pets until they got the all clear and the caller called back to tell them that the bomb was supposed to be in another city entirely.
Nick told a story about his own days on highway patrol, when he'd pulled over a car full of people smoking so much pot that smoke billowed out of the vehicle when the driver rolled down the window. The driver tried to give him his library card instead of a driver's license and actually offered him a "Scooby snack" in exchange for letting him off with a warning. Nick had been tempted by the man's sheer audacity, and if the guy weren't clearly so stoned that gravity no longer affected him he might have done it.
After the lunch dishes were cleared away, Nick grabbed Ryan's hand. "So, Mom, Dad, there's actually a reason that we wanted to meet up with you like this. Um, I guess that there's no gentle way to break this to you, but Ryan and I are going to be fathers."
His parents stared at him like he'd just spoken Russian. They blinked, and then they blinked at each other. "I'm sorry," Mom said, speaking very slowly. "Did you just say that you're going to be fathers?"
Nick's stomach clenched, but he straightened his back and sat forward. He tried to block his omega from his parents. "It's not the way that we would have chosen to go about starting a family." He cleared his throat. "But these things happen, no method is perfect even for betas, and we'd already decided that we wanted to try to pursue a relationship when his scent changed. So… surprise. We're going to be fathers, and you're going to be grandparents again."
His parents stared at each other again. "This is all very sudden," Dad said, very slowly. "And we'll love the baby, of course. He'll be part of this family no matter what, because that's how families work. But you have to admit that this is moving a little quickly for us."
Ryan shrank into himself a bit. "For us too," he murmured. "Believe me."
Mom rushed around the table and caught Ryan up in a huge hug. "Oh, Ryan. Please don't think that we don't want you. We're just startled. That's all. We will love your baby, and we will love you every step of the way." She glared at her husband. "Won't we, Gerald?"
He gave her a pained expression. "Joanna, cops don't do love. We do manly pats on the back and target practice on the range during our lunch hour." His face softened. "But I will be very proud to take my grandchild's father down to the range, and if he decides to become my son-in-law, I'll give him the most manly pat on the back you ever did see." Mom pinched him. "Okay, and I'll even change a few diapers."
Ryan glowed. "Thank you, sir. I won't let you down."
After lunch, they walked through the mall for a few minutes as a family. Mom insisted on buying a super-cute onesie for the baby, one that kind of made the baby look like a little bear or something. Ryan loved it, Nick didn't quite get it. It would probably look cuter when there was an actual baby inside of it.
After that, the couples parted ways, and Ryan and Nick made their way back out to Ashland and the comfort or Nick's house. Once there, they shed their clothes like snakes in molt and headed up to bed.
They passed the rest of the weekend in a state of bliss. They wouldn't be able to have no-clothes weekends once the baby was born; they needed to make the most of what they had while they had it. In that sense, Nick could have wished that they'd been able to delay their family by another year or two. It wasn't even so much the spontaneous, easy sex that they had during these weekends. It was the closeness. It was the freedom. It was the trust, the absolute trust.
The baby would m
ake up for the loss, of course. For now, though, they would wallow.
They went back to work on Monday, the same as they always did. The fact that no one had called them over the weekend to make them put on clothes and come into the office meant that Will O'Neal was still on the loose somewhere. Local officers had shaken down his son's house and his brother's house, but had found nothing. A man like Will O'Neal had plenty of contacts in the community, though. He'd have plenty of boltholes where he could have gone to ground. All they needed to do was to draw him out.
Ryan suggested talking to the son, Joe. Joe had gone back to his father after he turned eighteen, sought a plumbing apprenticeship, and joined the family business. Katherine told them both that she still spoke to her brother, even though she disagreed with his choice to go back to their father, and that she didn't know how helpful he would be. "He owes everything to Dad," she told them, with a resigned little shrug. "He knows that he's nothing without the old man."