by Pandora Pine
“Ronan?” Ten practically shouted, when he came into the living room loaded down with groceries.
“Here!” Ronan dashed into the living room. “Do you need help carrying in the other bags.”
Ten shook his head, relieved that Ronan was okay. “No, Greeley’s got the rest. That bad feeling is back and I was worried for a second that something was wrong with you.”
Ronan ducked his head.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Tennyson could feel guilt and fear radiating off of his fiancé.
“Let’s talk about it after Fitzgibbon picks up Greeley, okay? I’m fine, I promise. We just got a special delivery. I’ll show you everything later.”
Tennyson shivered. “Is this ‘delivery’ something that we should show Captain Fitzgibbon when he gets here to pick up Greeley?”
Ronan sighed. “I’m not sure, Ten. It could be nothing.”
“That’s good enough for me. I vote yes.” Ten’s brow furrowed.
“I had a feeling you’d say that. I just didn’t want anything to ruin our first family breakfast in our new house.”
Ten studied Ronan. The veteran detective looked tired and worn out and he couldn’t have been out of bed for more than an hour. “We’re going to have thousands of breakfasts in this kitchen, but only if we’re alive to eat them.”
Ronan’s tired eyes dropped to the floor. “We’ll show Fitzgibbon when he gets here.”
“I’ll get started on breakfast. Kevin texted us while we were in the checkout line. He’ll be here any second.”
Ronan took the grocery bags from Tennyson and hauled them up onto the counter. “Okay.”
“Here’s the rest of the groceries.” Greeley called out.
“How’d you sleep last night?” Ronan asked with a smile.
“I love it up here. It’s so quiet. No honking horns or asshole neighbors. Just like when I was in rehab. I’m trying to talk Dad into getting a house up here too.” Greeley shrugged. “He likes living in Southie. I’m not so much into living in the city anymore.”
Tennyson didn’t blame Greeley one bit. After everything the boy had been through, living in the suburbs seemed like the perfect place for him. “Your Dad said you were starting to look at colleges now that your GED test was on the horizon.”
Greeley nodded. “Salem State University has a Bachelor’s Degree in Social Work. I was thinking of helping out kids like me who had a rough start in life. You know, kids who maybe got into sex work or drugs and alcohol.”
“I think that’s a great idea, Greeley!” Tennyson patted his back before he started unpacking the grocery bags.
“What’s a great idea?” Fitzgibbon asked as he strolled into the kitchen.
“Hey, Dad!” Greeley walked up to his father and hugged him tight. “We were talking about the social work degree at Salem State.”
“Greeley was also talking about how nice it would be if you both lived up here in the suburbs.” Ronan laughed.
“Closer to your friends and family,” Tennyson chimed in.
“But that would be further away from his boo.” Ronan frowned. “That is if Jace Lincoln is his boo.”
“How’d it go, Dad?” Greeley pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and shot his father an expectant look.
Kevin shook his head. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Oh, please, Dad.” Greeley rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking for details. Did you have a good time with Jace?”
Fitzgibbon blushed down to the roots of his hair. “He’s a nice man. We laughed a lot. Talked a lot.” He blushed harder. “Kissed a lot.”
“Okaaay! That’s my cue to leave.” Greeley popped out of his chair and slapped Kevin’s shoulder on his way past. “I’ll be in the living room watching SportsCenter. Call me when breakfast is ready. Okay?”
Kevin shrugged. “Was that TMI?”
“For us, no! For your seventeen-year-old son, yes!” Ten laughed. “It’s good that we’ve got you alone for a few minutes though. Aside from hearing the juicy details about Jace, Ronan has something he wants to talk to us both about.”
Ronan frowned and got up from the table. He walked to the utility drawer and pulled out a large envelope.
“Shit, this doesn’t look good.” Fitzgibbon looked back and forth between the two of them.
“I found this envelope on the front steps this morning when I went out to grab the paper. I didn’t see any other houses with a similar envelope waiting for them. I should have used gloves from that point forward, but I just wasn’t thinking that this was anything to worry about.”
“Do you have any gloves in the house now?” Fitzgibbon asked.
“Yeah,” Ronan dug back into the utility drawer and pulled out a pair. He snapped them on and dumped out the contents of the envelope. He flipped over the pictures so the captain and Tennyson could see them.
Tennyson looked through the images and shivered. “What the hell is this, Cap? Is it a sick joke? A real threat?”
“What are your Spidey senses tell you, Ten?” Ronan asked. “Is this what your uneasy feeling last night was about? Do you feel like someone is watching us?”
Ten shook his head. “I’m not getting anything more specific than a feeling of unease. I haven’t gotten the feeling that anyone has been watching us.” Then again, he hadn’t really asked his spirit guides that question specifically.
“It’s obvious someone is watching the two of you. These were taken on the day you moved into this house.” Fitzgibbon looked back and forth between Tennyson and Ronan. “Have either one of you gotten any other packages like this before? Have you seen anyone hanging around here that you don’t know? What about crank calls?”
Ten shook his head. “I haven’t gotten any pictures like this and we haven’t lived here long enough yet to know who lives here and who doesn’t. I can tell you that I didn’t have this uneasy feeling before Ronan and I moved into this house. I haven’t been getting any crank calls beyond the usual spam calls.” He shrugged. “What about you, Ronan?”
“This is the first package like this I’ve gotten. I agree with Ten that we haven’t lived here long enough yet to know who belongs in this neighborhood.” Ronan nibbled his bottom lip and let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve been getting hang up calls since the Fourth of July, but I thought they were just the usual robo-spam calls asking me to give a Nigerian Prince a helping hand.”
“What?” Ten couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Why the hell are you just mentioning this now?”
“Ten, calm down. You know how those spam calls are. The line clicks a couple of times before it goes dead or before a foreign accent answers telling you that you owe the IRS thousands of dollars.”
Tennyson knew all about spam calls. Most of the time he let phone numbers he didn’t recognize go straight to voicemail. If they didn’t leave a message, Ten blocked the number.
“I know you block all of the numbers that don’t leave you a voicemail, but in my line of work, I can’t do that. I give my business card out to so many people. They might not always have the courage to speak to me or leave me a message the first time they call. Hell, sometimes it takes four or five calls for them to work up the courage to talk to me. It took the combination of the hang up calls in conjunction with this package today, along with Ten’s tingling sixth sense to put this all together.” Ronan hugged Tennyson. “I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you, babe. I just didn’t see the whole picture until just now.”
“I’ve got some evidence bags in my car. I’ll bag this stuff up and get it to the lab. Call your friend Lyric Vaughn and see if she’s available to run fingerprints and DNA on this stuff. I doubt we’re going to find anything but Ronan’s fingerprints on the photographs and envelope.”
“What do we do in the meantime?” Ten asked. He could feel his own anxieties starting to ramp up. He and Ronan weren’t even working on a case together and he felt like he was in the thick of things.
“You live your lives, Ten. Keep an e
ye open for strangers. Make sure the house is locked. Install a security system. It could just be that whoever sent this package just did it on a lark. They made their point and now they’re done. You’re both new to the neighborhood and whoever sent this wants you both to know that they know you’re here. A cop and psychic.” Fitzgibbon shrugged.
“Maybe we should get a dog?” Ronan grinned.
Ten’s face lit up. “I’d love a little cutie pie like Truman’s Yorkshire Terrier.”
Fitzgibbon burst out laughing. “Sure, Ten, Yorkies are notorious guard dogs.”
“It’s worth a discussion, right, Ronan?” Ten waggled his eyebrows. “Now, who wants pancakes?”
9
Ronan
Ronan had always thought fatherhood would irrevocably change him. He’d never imagined how right he would be.
Tennyson had continued to feel uneasy about the picture-filled envelope a week after it had been left on their doorstep. Now that they had a house just down the street from Truman and Carson, Ronan didn’t see any reason why they couldn’t have a dog. If they were busy on a case and couldn’t make it home in time, Carson would be able to pop in and take the animal out for a walk and feed it dinner.
Although now that Ronan and Tennyson had their princess home with them, he never wanted to go back to work ever again. They’d gone to the same animal shelter Truman had adopted Sadie from. They didn’t have any Yorkshire Terriers, like Sadie, available for adoption, but they did have Dixie, a tiny Papillon mix with enormous ears who’d melted Tennyson’s heart on sight.
The only problem with fatherhood, so far as Ronan could tell, was that the tiny dog seemed more partial to him than to Tennyson. She would follow him to the door and cry when he would leave for work in the morning. Dixie would pine for him long after he was gone, according to the snarky text messages, complete with pictures, Tennyson would send to him.
As this was Saturday, Ronan didn’t have to worry about leaving his little love muffin while he went to work. It was, however, Tennyson’s turn to leave while Ronan stayed behind. Ten had a couple of morning readings scheduled at West Side Magick and Ronan had a bit of a surprise planned while he was gone.
He was going to use his alone time to set up the backyard. They didn’t have much land, but they did have a nice patio, similar to the one that Carson and Truman had. Ronan had ordered a new grill from one of the big box stores which had been delivered the other day. He planned on spending the morning setting it up, along with a hammock he’d ordered from Amazon. It was going to hang nicely between a large maple tree and the post of the fence separating their yard from the next-door-neighbor.
“Dixie, my little pixie, we need to have a chat before Daddy Tennyson comes down this morning.” Ronan plopped himself down on the blue area rug in front of the living room sofa. Dixie had chosen this as her spot in the living room. It was right next to Ronan’s usual spot on the couch.
The puppy hopped into his lap and started licking his face.
“I know, lovebug. Daddy loves his little girl too, but we have to talk about your other Daddy, okay?” Ronan set the puppy back down on the rug and gave her the hand signal to sit. The puppy obeyed for two seconds before she was scrambling back into Ronan’s lap and started licking him for all she was worth. “Daddy Ten loves you too and we know there’s plenty of your love to go around, right?”
Ronan rolled his eyes. This was ridiculous. He was having a discussion with an animal whose brain was literally the size of a walnut. “So, when he comes down, you’re going to run to him and shower him with affection, right pixie girl?”
The puppy ignored him and started trying to burrow under his Patriots tee-shirt. “Awesome, good talk.”
“Well, I’ve got diabetes thanks to that little speech.” Ten grinned as he came down the stairs.
Dixie yipped and ran halfway to the stairs before turning around and running back to Ronan. She hid behind his back before running halfway back toward Tennyson again.
“Oh, so we’re playing hard to get, are we?” Ten snorted. “That’s fine. This is part of the reason I never liked girls!” He put his nose in the air and headed toward the kitchen.
Dixie whined and took off after him.
“Yeah, the other part of the reason was because girls don’t have dicks!” Ronan laughed.
“There’s Daddy’s girl.” Ten scooped the puppy up, letting her lick his face. “You taste like Daddy Ronan. Yes, you do.”
Ronan unlocked his phone and started snapping pictures of the two of them together. It was nice seeing Ten so happy and relaxed like this. Thankfully, there hadn’t been any other envelopes left for them in the week since the first one. He hadn’t gotten any other hang up calls either. Lyric Vaughn hadn’t found any fingerprints or DNA other than Ronan’s on the envelope and pictures, which was what Fitzgibbon assumed would happen. With each day that passed, Ronan was more and more certain that the whole incident was a one-time deal.
As he was snapping more pictures of the Dixie/Tennyson lovefest, his phone started dinging with incoming text messages. The text jingle sounding off was the one Ronan had assigned to Captain Fitzgibbon.
“I hope that’s not Uncle Kevin telling Daddy he’s got to come to work.” Ten set the puppy on the floor and moved to the sink to wash his face.
Ronan hoped the same thing. He had a full day planned. Cold Case didn’t usually work like Homicide or Vice, there weren’t a lot of emergency call-ins, especially where Ronan was between cases at the moment. He pulled up the message string from the captain and started to laugh.
“What is it? Boy trouble with Greeley?” Ten was patting his face dry with a paper towel.
“Worse, it’s boy trouble with Jace Lincoln. Cap hasn’t heard from him since their epic make-out session last week. He’s not sure what he should do.”
“We don’t have any plans tonight,” Tennyson said mildly.
“No! We’re not having my boss over for a three-some.” Ronan grimaced before dry heaving.
“Gross, Ronan.” Ten rolled his eyes. “Invite him to dinner. Tell him we’re grilling and we’ll invite Jace too. Make it seem informal. We both know you’re going to need his help today.”
“Help with what?” Christ, that was the trouble with living with a psychic. There were no secrets. No surprises.
“Uh, gee, my fiancé got a huge box from Home Depot the other day. Since we were just talking about buying a grill, I wonder what could possibly be in the box?” Ten shut his eyes and put his fingers to his temples. “Thanks, spirit guides! It’s a new gas grill!” His voice was full of snark.
Ronan crossed his arms over his chest. “No one likes a smartass.”
“Are you sure about that?” Ten held up his left hand and flashed his engagement ring.
“Fine, maybe I like you a little bit,” Ronan grumped.
The puppy barked and raced over to Ronan. “You, I love whole bunch loads.” He scooped the puppy up and let her love on him for a few seconds.
“Whole bunch loads?” Ten deadpanned before gagging. “Okay, I’m off to work. I’m not even going to ask if Dixie wants to come with me since her hero is home today.” Ten reached into the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “Goodbye, Ronan.” Ten pressed a kiss to his lips. “Goodbye, traitor Princess.” He headed toward the living room.
“That’s your cue,” Ronan urged, setting the puppy down on the floor and giving her a little push toward Tennyson. She didn’t budge. “Oh, Christ.” Ronan got down on all fours and barked, before racing into the living room after Tennyson. His knees were killing him, but if this was what it took to teach Dixie to pine after Tennyson, it was worth it. When he got to the door, he cried pitifully and rubbed his face against Ten’s hand.
“Are you serious?” Ten looked like he was torn between laughing and calling for an ambulance to take Ronan to the looney bin.
“Is Dixie behind me?” Ronan whispered.
“Yes, she’s staring at you like you’ve lost your mind
.” Ten was laughing now.
“Please don’t go, Daddy. Stay home and play with us,” Ronan begged. He whined again, like Dixie did when he left for work. The puppy joined him and gave Ronan a curious look before whining too.
“Bye, Ronan. Bye, Dixie! Be good. No piddling on the carpet. No boys in the house! I mean it, Ronan, no piddling!” Ten waved and was out the door.
Ronan collapsed back on hall floor. Dixie scampered up on his chest like a mountain goat. “I’m exhausted. How about a treat?”
Dixie yipped and sprinted toward the kitchen. He couldn’t help thinking Daddy Ronan could use a treat too.
As much as Ronan hated to admit Tennyson was right, Ten was right about Ronan needing help setting up the new grill. Ronan had been on the phone with Fitzgibbon ten minutes after he’d gotten the grill box open. He couldn’t understand one word of the instruction manual even though it was written in English. Thankfully, the captain was free to spend the day and was bringing his tools.
“Thank God you’re here.” Ronan greeted when Fitzgibbon showed up with his toolbox two hours later.
Kevin looked around the patio at the various pieces of the grill set out. “This is as far as you got?”
“I’m a detective, not a mechanic.” Ronan looked around at all of the pieces. It really was a pathetic effort on his part. “Where’s Greeley?”
The captain sighed, pulling out one of the chairs at the patio table. “He asked me to drop him off on campus at Salem State.”
Ronan joined him at the table. “Why do you look like you hate that idea?”
Kevin shook his head. “He’s fresh out of rehab and it’s only a few months since Jacobson took him hostage and attacked him again. I’m just worried, I guess.”
“Didn’t the counselors at Hope by the Sea tell you that part of the rehab process for you was to learn to trust him?” Ronan knew all about the rehab process. He’d spent some time in a Jupiter, Florida rehab for alcoholism last year after he shot Manuel Garcia in the line of duty. Part of the program was not only knowing what was expected of himself, but what was expected of his support team. Rebuilding trust with those who loved him was a big part of post-rehab life.