Dead Speak

by Pandora Pine

  “I just needed one more boy. I promised myself I’d take one more boy before our wedding and that would be it. I’d be yours forever.” Josh giggled. He sounded like he’d lost his mind completely.

  “That last boy was Michael Frye?” Ronan asked, his voice didn’t sound like his own.

  “Yeah, yeah, Michael Frye. He was in my Officer Buddy class. Sat right in the front row. Wanted to answer every question. He wanted me too, I could see it in his eyes.”

  Ronan felt his gorge rise. It took all his strength to keep from throwing up. “Of course he did.” God please forgive me... Ronan had no idea how the sex crimes detectives did this day in and day out, playing along with deranged perverts like Josh.

  “Right, of course Michael wanted me. So, I took him. He was so sweet...” Josh’s eyes lost focus for a moment as if he were reliving his time with the boy.

  Ronan could feel tears welling up in his eyes. “You’d never hurt any of your boys before, Josh. Why was Michael different?”

  Josh’s eyes snapped back into focus again. The gun swiveled back to point at Ronan. “Because if I killed Michael, I’d kill my desire for little boys and we could live a happy life.”

  It almost sounded rational. Josh almost sounded sane. Almost. Ronan opened his mouth to respond but Josh beat him to it.

  “Now that you both know my secret, you have to die.”

  “Josh, wait!” Ronan stepped in front of Tennyson with his hands raised. He could hear his lover weeping behind him.

  “There’s no time to wait, listen!”

  In the distance, Ronan could hear the unmistakable wail of police sirens. He shook his head. Why the fuck was the cavalry coming to intercept a hostage situation with lights and sirens blaring?

  “Who wants to die first?” Josh’s maniacal grin was back. “I think ghost whisperer should go first.”

  “Come on, Pooh Bear, you don’t want to do this.” Ronan’s voice was scrambling for something to say to keep Josh talking just a little longer.

  “Actually, I do.” Josh took a few steps to his right, aiming the gun at Tennyson, when a lamp on an end table crashed to the floor.

  When Josh turned to look at what caused the noise, Ronan crouched down, pulling his side piece out of the holster strapped to his ankle. He took aim and fired, hitting Josh’s gun hand and sending the gun dropping to the floor.

  Josh bellowed, diving for the gun. Ronan was on him in an instant, slamming his head on the hardwood floor before shoving his gun in Josh’s face. “Don’t move, asshole. Don’t move. I should shoot you now.” Ronan panted. “Ten, are you okay?”

  “I’ll live.”

  “Goddamn right you will.” Ronan kept his attention focused on Josh who was struggling to throw Ronan’s body off his own. “Can you get the handcuffs out of my back pocket?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ronan managed to flip a still fighting Josh onto his stomach and pinned both hands in the small of his back. He took the cuffs from Tennyson and slapped them on. It was tough going to get them over the blood-slicked hand that Ronan had shot.

  When the cuff clicked into place. He put his right knee into the middle of Josh’s back and the barrel of his gun against his head. “Give me one reason not to pull the trigger.”

  Tennyson set a hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “Am I reason enough?”

  Ronan looked up at his lover who was covered in his own blood and looking like he was on his last legs. Tennyson was reason enough. He was everything.

  The sirens were getting louder with every passing second. All Ronan had to do was hold on until they got to the little house on Crow Pointe and it would all be over.

  46

  Tennyson

  Once the dried blood was gone from his face and he was wearing clean clothes, hospital scrubs, to be more precise, Tennyson started to look a bit more like his old self. Although, truth be told, he had a feeling it was going to be a long time before he was feeling anything like his old self.

  Officers from the Hingham Police Department had swooped into the house on Crow Pointe not long after he’d managed to talk Ronan out of killing Josh. He’d known it was the right thing to do, but if anyone had deserved to die for his crimes, it had surely been Josh Gatlin.

  “Jesus, Tennyson, there you are!” Carson raced into his hospital room with Truman close on his heels. “Are you okay?” Carson cradled Ten’s bruised face in his hands.

  Ten could see the love and care in his best friend’s eyes. It was more than he’d seen in Ronan’s eyes after the cops had hauled Josh away. Ronan had barely looked at him. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Bullshit,” Carson whispered, wrapping his arms around Tennyson’s shoulders. “Psychic, remember?”

  “How’s Ronan?” Truman asked.

  “I don’t know.” It was the truth. Captain Fitzgibbon arrived on the scene shortly after the Hingham Police and after checking briefly on Tennyson, had pulled Ronan out of the house. Tennyson hadn’t seen him since then.

  Truman’s face crumpled into a frown. “I’ll go check on him.”

  Tennyson was about to tell Truman that wasn’t necessary, but honestly didn’t have the strength to open his mouth or speak the words.

  “You know what everyone’s biggest question is going to be, right?” Carson snorted.

  Tennyson couldn’t help laughing. “If I’m psychic then how didn’t I know I was about to be kidnapped?”

  Carson nodded, laughing too hard to speak.

  It felt good to laugh again. Tennyson knew there was a lot of healing ahead for him; body and soul, but for the moment, it felt good to just let go of everything that had happened to him today and just laugh with his friend.

  Sobering, tears twinkled in Carson’s eyes. “I was afraid I was going to lose you.”

  Tennyson nodded. There had been moments he had been pretty sure he wasn’t going to make it out alive. “It’s just a concussion and a broken nose. I’ve got some bruises from where the bastard kicked me. I never would have made it out alive if it wasn’t for Ronan.”

  Carson wrapped his arms more tightly around Tennyson and rocked him gently. “He’s okay too. I can feel it.”

  “Physically. I’m not so sure he’s okay mentally.”

  “What do you mean?” Carson pulled back. He seemed to be studying Tennyson.

  One of the homicide detectives had spoken with him after the doctor had finished seeing to his various injuries. It was one of the detectives he’d only met in passing. Detective Rollingson had cautioned him about speaking to anyone about the case, but Tennyson knew Carson could be trusted. “Josh admitted he killed Michael in hopes that the act would kill his pedophilia.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Carson muttered. “And in so doing, allow him to lead a normal life with Ronan?”

  “Yeah,” Tennyson agreed. He’d never forget the pained tone in Josh’s voice as he explained his warped thinking to Ronan.

  “That’s gonna fuck him up something awful.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Ten agreed.

  “Look who I found,” Truman announced as he led Ronan into the room.

  “Hey,” Ronan held up a hand in greeting. There was no life in his dull, blue eyes and he looked like he was about to collapse.

  “We’re going to give you two a minute. Ten, we ran into your doctor in the hallway. He’s working on your discharge papers right now. After you’re cut loose, Carson and I are taking both of you home with us. No arguments. What you both need most right now is family and a hot meal. Now we all know Carson can’t cook for shit, so you’ll be happy to know I’ll be manning the kitchen.” Truman laughed.

  “Come on, Bobby Flay.” Carson rolled his eyes. “Let’s give these two some privacy while we discuss the gourmet menu you’re planning.” He squeezed Ronan’s shoulder on his way past.

  “Thank God you’re safe,” Ronan said quietly when Carson shut the door behind him.

  “You’re the reason I’m still alive.” Tennyson reached a tentat
ive hand out to Ronan, not sure his lover would take it.

  Ronan looked at Ten’s hand for a second before he raced to Tennyson, pulling the other man into his arms. “I’ve never been so scared in all of my life. When he had that gun pointed at you, Ten, I-” Ronan was crying too hard to finish his sentence.

  Tennyson held Ronan, knowing he needed to cry his feelings out. He held on to the burly detective feeling safe in his solid embrace. “I never doubted for a second that you’d find me. I never doubted it. I never doubted you.”

  “We found the ridiculous rock you left me and Jesus, the blood in the parking garage.” Ronan shuddered in Tennyson’s arms.

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  “Josh always talked about his grandmother’s beach house in Hingham. She always said she was going to leave it to him in her will, but knowing what we know now about him, it makes me wonder if he killed her to get the house sooner.” Ronan pulled back, pressing a tender kiss to Tennyson’s cheek.

  “He did. She told me he poisoned her tea.” There had been several spirits in the beach house. Josh’s chatty grandmother had only been one of them.

  “Jesus Christ. That twisted motherfucker. Did she see him do it?”

  Ten shook his head. “No, Josh whispered it to her body at the wake.”

  “Guess he thought he’d gotten away with it at that point.” Ronan shook his head.

  Tennyson nodded, reaching his still shaking hands out to grab on to Ronan’s hips. It felt so good to hold on to something so solid. So real. So Ronan. He’d been afraid that he’d never get another chance to do this again.

  “Josh’s grandmother wasn’t the only spirit in the house today, was it?” Ronan raised an eyebrow at Tennyson.

  “No, she wasn’t.” Tennyson wondered how long it would take Ronan to ask this question.

  “The lamp that miraculously fell off the table at the critical moment. It was Michael, wasn’t it?” A small smile played at the corner of Ronan’s lips.

  Tennyson had been sure he was going to die. Every other time that day Josh had pointed the gun at him, his right hand had been shaking, but this time, his hand was steady as a surgeon. There was no doubt in his mind his number was up. Right before the lamp had fallen, or been pushed, he’d actually been wondering who would be waiting to greet him on the other side. He was half hoping it would be Ronan’s mother, Erin.

  He’d been rushing through a quick Our Father, a holdover from his days back at Union Chapel Calvary Baptist, when he’d seen Michael Frye’s spirit. The boy looked older, or rather somehow more mature, than he had the last time Ten had seen him. There was a steely look of determination in his eyes, as if he were there to do a job. Michael smiled at Tennyson and shoved the lamp off the table.

  Everything happened so fast after that with Ronan shooting Josh and then needing his help to cuff the disgraced and bleeding detective. When the dust had settled and Ten had a minute to catch his breath, Michael was gone. The truth was undeniable, Michael had saved his and Ronan’s lives.

  “Yeah,” Tennyson managed a small smile of his own. “It was Michael.”

  Ronan nodded. Ten saw tears shimmering in his eyes before Ronan ducked his head. “Well, I guess maybe he thought he owed us one…” Ronan’s whisper-soft voice trailed off.

  Pulling Ronan closer, Tennyson buried his face against his lover’s chest. He could feel the pain, confusion and hatred rolling off him. “We’re safe now.” Ten didn’t know what else to say.

  He knew damn well that Ronan was going to be back out there doing this job again, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. He knew that Ronan would put his own life on the line again like he’d done with the Manuel Garcia shooting and like he’d done on the Frye case. The question was, could Tennyson live with that day in and day out?

  Ten supposed that was a question that didn’t need to be answered today. There was a lot of healing that he would need to do in the meantime. His body was broken; his soul in tatters.

  With the information his six senses were sending him about Ronan, his lover was in the same shape. What they needed to do now was to go home with Truman and Carson and let their friends love and care for them.

  Tomorrow would take care of itself.

  EPILOGUE

  One month later…

  Ronan had spent the last thirty days living the AA motto of One Day At A Time. He worked. He ate. He slept. All in all, it reminded him a lot of his time in rehab. He kept his time structured and busy so he wouldn’t have spare moments to think back on Josh, the gun pointed at Tennyson’s head, and his ex-husband’s horrific confession.

  The murder charge against Tony Abruzzi had been dropped and he had been reinstated to the BPD homicide division. Ronan had been the one to give him and Carlie the good news. There had even been a press conference to discuss the details of Josh’s arrest where the police chief had taken a few minutes to offer a heartfelt apology to Tony and his entire family.

  Carlie had stopped by a few times with pans of lasagna and stuffed shells to make sure Ronan was eating. He’d had to promise her he’d bring some of the tons of food to Tennyson.

  Truth be told, he hadn’t seen much of his boyfriend in the last month. There had been so much paperwork to fill out about that last day, and hours upon hours of statements to make to Internal Affairs. The powers-that-be didn’t want them getting together to sync their stories, so they’d had to agree to stay apart.

  It had been agony for Ronan to be away from Tennyson. Truman and Carson had invited them to spend the night of the kidnapping at their house, but one night had turned into two and then two had turned into five. Ronan had started to get used to living with Tennyson and their friends, but then the paperwork and endless rounds of interviews started and he’d quickly gotten used to living like a hermit again.

  It had been during those long nights when Ronan had been alone with his thoughts when he had started to process the things Josh had confessed. Even a month later, it was hard to wrap his head around the idea that he’d been married to a pedophile who’d thought he could tame those urges by killing an innocent victim. Ronan didn’t know if he’d ever be able to come to terms with that and had a feeling therapy was in his not too distant future.

  With the solving of the Frye case had come a ton of media attention for both him and Tennyson. Requests for interviews poured in from Good Morning America and the Today show. Dateline had even asked if they could profile the story for one of their Saturday night mysteries.

  Tennyson had been keen on the idea of doing Dateline so long as veteran news reporter Keith Morrison was the one to do the story. At this point in time the details were still being hammered out.

  Cold Case Psychic was in post-production now. After the investigation had wrapped up, Ronan, Tennyson, and even Captain Fitzgibbon had sat down with Brett McCabe to do interviews talking about the case and its dramatic climax. There was talk of the show starting to air in the late spring. To be honest, Ronan could give a shit less.

  What the fame in the media and the accolades from the Boston Police Department hadn’t been able to fix were Ronan and Tennyson as individuals or as a couple. There was so much pain on Ronan’s part and so much fear on Tennyson’s that both men were reluctant to reconnect physically.

  They’d seen each other sporadically since the Frye investigation had officially ended, but it had been more in the vein of friends rather than lovers. Ronan knew rationally that Ten was nothing like his ex-husband, but finding a way to trust again was going to be a long, slow road back for him.

  “O’Mara!” Captain Fitzgibbon’s voice boomed through the precinct.

  Great… The last thing Ronan needed today was the captain on his ass. This new file he was working on, the Victoria Jackson case, was going nowhere fast. “Yes, captain.”

  “My office, now!” The captain didn’t wait for a response. He turned and headed back through the door.

  Ronan nodded and followed after him. This didn’t sound good. He hurried i
nto the office, shutting the door behind him.

  “You look like shit, son,” Fitzgibbon started.

  Ronan snorted. “Thanks, captain. Good talk. Now if that’s all.” Ronan pointed at the door.

  “Sit.” The harsh look on the captain’s face softened. “I’m worried about you.”

  “Join the club. Seems to be a lot of that going around lately.” Ronan was getting the same thing from Tony and Carlie and all of Tennyson’s friends too. He’d even managed to pick up O’Dwyer as one of his people watching his back in the office. Once or twice a week he’d come in to find a fresh coffee cake or a batch of cookies on his desk, courtesy of O’Dwyer’s wife.

  “Things will get back to normal when I solve the Jackson case.” Ronan hated to admit it, but he was never going to solve the Jackson case. Not without Tennyson’s help, anyway.

  “Life isn’t about solving cases, Ronan.”

  Ronan was about to make a snarky remark when he looked up at his boss and saw the sincerity in his eyes.

  “Victoria Jackson has been dead for thirteen years. Her case is so cold it’s got icicles. I think she can wait one more week before you and Tennyson find her killer, don’t you?”

  “Me and Tennyson?” So this was Fitzgibbon’s game? He wanted the two of them working together again.

  “Come on, Ronan. You have to admit Tennyson brings a certain flare to life around here. More to the point, he brings you to life in a way I’ve never seen before.”

  Ronan opened his mouth to object, but was stopped by Fitzgibbon holding up a hand to stop him.

  “Look, I know you’ve both been through the ringer this last month between the way things went down with your ex and with the investigation of that last day, but you both need to find a way back from that day.”

  Ronan nodded. He knew the captain was right. Why bother denying it? “How?”

  Fitzgibbon’s face lit up like a kid with a new puppy. “Just so happens I have the answer right here.” He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a set of keys, which he tossed to Ronan.