Dead To Me (Cold Case Psychic Book 5) Read online

  DEAD TO ME

  By

  Pandora Pine

  Dead to Me

  Copyright © Pandora Pine 2018

  All Rights Reserved

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First Digital Edition: May 2018

  PROLOGUE

  September 2005…

  Seventeen-year-old Tennyson Grimm’s palms were sweating. He wiped them against the thighs of his Sunday best pants and tried to take a deep breath. It didn’t help to calm his racing heart.

  Today’s sermon at the Union Chapel Calvary Baptist Church had been about honoring thy mother and thy father, just like the fifth commandment bade. Tennyson had been keeping a secret from his parents. Two of them in fact. After listening to Pastor Greene preach about honoring your parents, Tennyson realized he had been breaking this commandment.

  He’d been lying to his parents for some time now and that, for sure, was not honoring his mother or his father.

  The problem with Tennyson’s secrets was that they were sins. According to Pastor Greene, sins were all the same in the eyes of the Lord, but he couldn’t help thinking they should be weighted differently.

  He hadn’t killed anyone, which in his mind, was the big enchilada of all sins. Ditto for taking the name of the Lord in vain, having other gods, or worshipping false idols. He’d never understood those Catholics and their devotion to Mary or their pantheon of saints.

  Tennyson kept the Sabbath, never stole anything, or committed adultery. Sure, he’d coveted things. Who hadn’t? He couldn’t imagine God sending him to the big bonfire down below for wishing he had Tim Miller’s killer ten-speed bike, but that was God’s call, not his own.

  These sins of his weren’t listed in the commandments, but they were in the Bible. Technically, he hadn’t even committed one of them, but it would be a lifelong battle to keep it that way. The problem was, Tennyson didn’t want to fight that fight and wasn’t sure why he had to in this day and age.

  The second secret, just like the first, wasn’t something he asked for or invited into his life. It was something he’d just gotten, like his dark eyes or his curly hair.

  As he’d sat in the stifling hot church listening to the pastor rail against the evils of not honoring your mother and your father, Tennyson knew the time had come to tell his parents what he’d been keeping from them for so long.

  The Grimms usual Sunday routine was the 10am service, the congregation picnic after church, where there was more witnessing and stories of how church members had come to find the Lord, Jesus Christ. Then there was Sunday School for the kids and Bible study for the adults, and then it was finally time to go home to do their weekly Bible reading. Cold sandwiches for supper followed, as even cooking a meal wasn’t allowed on the Lord’s day.

  Tennyson was bouncing back and forth from foot to foot as he waited for his parents to come in the house. Their next-door neighbors, the Kearns family, had pulled into their driveway just as the Grimms had gotten home from church. He could hear them all chatting through the open kitchen window.

  The teenager’s nerves were in shreds. Every second that went by without him being able to tell his parents his secrets felt like an eternity. The secrets, lies, really, got heavier to hold by the second, which was ironic, as they hadn’t weighed very much this morning. It was funny what a good dose of guilt could do for the soul. His inner Jiminy Cricket was screeching like the red alert siren from Star Trek.

  Mercifully, the screen door opened and Tennyson’s parents came into the house. “Tennyson,” Kaye Grimm said, a frown on her face. “Why aren’t you reading your Bible? Today’s book is Romans.”

  Tennyson should have known better. “Yes, mother. There’s something I wanted to talk to you and Dad about before we started our Bible study.”

  Kaye raised an eyebrow. “You’re not ill, are you? That’s no excuse for skipping your Bible reading.”

  It took all of Tennyson’s strength not to roll his eyes. “I’m not sick. I need to tell you two things. Pastor Greene’s sermon today inspired me to open up.”

  David Grimm pulled out his usual chair at the head of the table. He loosened his plain blue tie and sat down. “Have a seat, son, and tell us what’s on your mind.”

  Nodding, Tennyson walked around to his seat and sat down. He stared at his hands for a moment, taking a deep breath. When he looked up at his parents they were both staring at him with expectant looks on their faces. After all, he was keeping them both from the Book of Romans. He had a feeling the best way to do this was to just tell them both of his secrets and let the chips fall where they may from there. “Mom, Dad, I’m gay and psychic.”

  The room was silent. No one spoke. No one breathed.

  Tennyson wondered for a crazy moment if he’d said those words in his head and not out loud.

  “What did you just say?” David Grimm asked. He was blinking so rapidly that it reminded Tennyson of a cheesy Rom-com and the moment just before the heroine dramatically fainted.

  At least Tennyson knew now he’d said the words out loud. He wasn’t so sure he was brave enough to say them again. “I’m gay, Dad. I’ve known now for a couple of years. Same with being psychic. I know things about the future and I can also talk to spirits who’ve crossed over to the other side. I spoke to Mom’s Grammy last week. She told me that when Mom was little, she used to like to sit on the old porch swing and listen to crickets chirp after sundown. She thought they were singing to her.” Tennyson laughed nervously. Neither his mother nor his father laughed with him. Neither of them even smiled.

  Tennyson expected to feel the weight of these secrets dropping from his shoulders like a one-ton barbell, but that didn’t happen. Instead, it felt like the weight had tripled. The burden of his parents’ wordless stares was crushing. He hoped one of them said something soon, otherwise, he might end up as flat as a pancake.

  “You’ve known that you had the power of Satan in you for a few years now and you didn’t tell us?” Kaye asked. Her voice was soft, but filled with rage.

  Tennyson opened his mouth to respond, but wasn’t given a chance.

  “How many men have you lain with?” David’s voice wasn’t soft. It was harsh and filled with anger verging on fury.

  “Dad, I’m seventeen years old. I haven’t lain with anyone! I’m following the Bible and saving myself for marriage.” Tennyson took a deep breath. This next bit was going to be harder to explain. “Mom, I don’t have the power of Satan in me. I have a gift. I can pass messages along to grieving families. Your grandmother died when you were only ten years old. You never got to say goodbye to her and you felt like she abandoned you. You carried that feeling around for years. How much better would you have felt if someone like me could have just told you that she was safe with God on the other side and that she would always be looking out for you. Every time you see a meadowlark, that’s her. She sends those birds to you as a sign of her love.”

  Kaye Grimm pushed back out of her chair. She pointed a shaking finger at her son. “I cast you out, demon!” She rubbed her hands over her arms as if to warm herself. “There is no way you could know that my grandmother always told me those birds were little ‘I love yous’ from her to me.”

  Tennyson did roll his eyes this time. It was obvious his mother was never going to understand his special gift. “I know because Grammy told me.”

  Kaye looked shaken to her soul.
She practically fell back into her chair. She looked to her husband, but did not say another word.

  David’s dark eyes narrowed as he stared at his boy. He seemed to be considering his words very carefully. “You are my son, Tennyson. It is my job to raise you until you turn eighteen, which mercifully coincides with the day of your high school graduation.” His words were cold, without inflection or feeling, spoken as if to a stranger and not to his own flesh and blood. “I will continue to provide for your basic needs, food, shelter, and clothing, but nothing else. Once you have your diploma in hand, you will pack your things and leave my home forever. You will never again contact your mother or me. Lastly, you will not tell another living soul about the abominations you have confessed here today, nor will you speak to either of us about them again. As of this moment, you are dead to me.”

  Tennyson felt frozen to the spot. If this were some corny After School Special, the dramatic music would have ramped up and the show would have cut to a commercial. This was no lesson-giving teen drama. This was his life and it just got real.

  He stood up from the table, abandoning his well-worn Bible. Jesus had abandoned him in his greatest time of need. Why shouldn’t Tennyson abandon his Lord and Savior right back? From now on, the only person who could save him was himself.

  1

  Tennyson

  October…

  Psychic Tennyson Grimm’s eyes popped open. The bedroom he shared with his fiancé, Boston Police Cold Case Detective, Ronan O’Mara, was dark, but for the bathroom nightlight which provided enough illumination to navigate by. The room was silent, as was the street outside their bedroom windows, which had Ten wondering what could have possibly woken him up.

  Sitting up in bed, the sheet pooled around his waist, coming to rest on his cotton pajama pants. With Ronan’s boss, Captain Kevin Fitzgibbon, and his teenage son, Greeley, living with them until they found a house of their own in Salem, Massachusetts, both Tennyson and Ronan had taken to sleeping in tee-shirts and pajama bottoms.

  Ten was about to get up to use the bathroom when movement at the foot of the bed caught his attention. He could see a spirit sitting there. This was not an unusual occurrence for the psychic. He’d been getting nighttime visitations since he was thirteen years old.

  “Hi there. I’m Tennyson,” he whispered, so as not to wake Ronan up.

  The spirit turned and looked at him, but did not say a word. It seemed to be studying the psychic.

  This sometimes happened. The dead, like the living, could sometimes be shy. Ten had learned to be patient over the years. He’d also learned that sometimes the recently dead had a hard time communicating with him. He had all night to wait for this ghost to find its voice.

  The spirit stood and walked closer to Tennyson before sitting back down. It reached out a hand before pulling it back at the last minute. “Hello, son.”

  “Dad?” Tennyson practically shouted.

  Ronan startled next to him, coming fully awake in a heartbeat. “What is it, Ten? What’s wrong?” He flipped on the bedroom light. Ronan’s hand came up to shield his eyes against the bright light.

  Ten mirrored the gesture. “You’re not going to believe this, but my father is here.”

  Ronan looked stunned. He yawned, but the shock stayed in his eyes. “The father that kicked you out of his house on your eighteenth birthday because you were gay and psychic? The father who left a teenage boy alone in this world to fend for himself? The father who hasn’t been in contact with you for thirteen years? That father?”

  Now that the room was brighter, Ten could see that the spirit sitting on his bed was indeed David Grimm. “Yes, Ronan, that father.”

  “Well, excuse me if I don’t offer to shake his hand.” As if to prove his point, Ronan folded his arms over his faded Patriots tee-shirt.

  Under any other set of circumstances, Tennyson would have laughed. Ronan looked so adorable with his blond bed head and grumpy disposition. Ten turned back to his father who was sitting patiently on the bed as if he had all the time in the world, which Ten supposed he did. “Hello, father.”

  “Is there really a need to be that formal?” David Grimm raised an eyebrow in question.

  “As my fiancé so eloquently pointed out, you kicked me out of our home to fend for myself on my eighteenth birthday without a penny to survive on, and you haven’t been in touch since that day. So yes, there is a need to be that formal. You’re lucky I’m even speaking to you at all.” All things being equal, Tennyson thought he was being damn charitable.

  “Wait,” Ronan said, scratching his stomach. “If your father is here, that means he’s dead.”

  “Well, give that man a prize. Some detective he must be. Master of the obvious…” David Grimm trialed off.

  Tennyson’s dark eyes narrowed on his father. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that. Don’t you even look at him!”

  “What? Is your old man dissing me?” Ronan laughed. “Don’t worry about me. I can take it. Detective Ronan O’Mara, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Tennyson turned to Ronan. His mouth was hanging open in shock.

  “What? He’s a guest in our house.” Ronan shrugged. “You don’t want me to be rude, do you?”

  “Christ, the next thing you’ll be doing is asking for his permission to marry me.” Ten rolled his eyes. He supposed that was the only thing that could make this already strange encounter even more strange.

  “How are Ronan’s injuries doing? Is he all healed from the shooting?” David asked.

  “Healed from the shooting?” Ten was stunned. “How do you know Ronan was shot?”

  “He knows I was shot?” Ronan laughed. He reached for the hem of his tee. “Do you want to see the scars?”

  Ten reached out for Ronan’s hand. “Ronan, no. No one wants to see your scars. Ever.” It had been a point of pride for Ronan since he’d been released from the hospital back in August with a clean bill of health. Whenever anyone asked him how he was doing, he’d ruck up his shirt and show off the three puckered bullet wounds.

  “It was all over the national news broadcasts when Ronan was shot. After your reality show aired, your mother and I followed both of your careers.” David sounded a bit sheepish.

  Ten shook his head. “You followed our careers?”

  “What’s he saying?” Ronan asked. “Sorry, David, my only superpower is stopping bullets with my mortal flesh. I don’t have Tennyson’s gift of speaking to the dead.” Ronan blanched. “Oh, sorry that you’re dead. What happened?”

  Tennyson turned to look at Ronan who was wearing an earnest look on his face. He remembered back to the first case they’d worked together and how uneasy Ronan had been around Michael Frye’s spirit. There was no sign of that uneasiness now. Hell, Ronan was downright cheeky. “Yeah, Dad. I’m sorry that you’re dead too. What did happen?” Talk about being the master of the obvious…

  “Massive heart attack.” David shrugged. “Too much bacon and not enough salad.” David shrugged.

  “Heart attack,” Ten said turning to Ronan. “When did this happen?”

  “A few minutes before you woke up. This kind woman was waiting for me. Belinda, I think she said her name was.” David didn’t look certain of that fact.

  “Bertha?” Tennyson guessed. “Do you mean Bertha Craig? About five foot nothing, real bossy attitude?”

  David nodded. “Yeah, I guess Bertha was her name. She was kind of bossy and I was pretty confused. It was quite a thing standing next to my own bed and looking down at my body.”

  “Is your father saying Bertha was there to meet him when he bought the farm?” Ronan asked. “I would have thought a different welcoming committee would have been waiting for him. A pitchfork brigade, rather than our sweet Bertha.”

  “Jesus Christ, Ronan,” Ten muttered.

  “Well, after what he did to you, can you tell me I’m off base here?” Ronan sounded defensive.

  Tennyson couldn’t say that at all, so he kept his mouth shu
t. He was going to have words with Bertha though the next time he saw her. Ten was sure it was no coincidence she wasn’t here now. How on earth did she know his father had passed on? Was she watching his family for him in case something like this happened?

  “So, this is your boyfriend?” David asked.

  “Fiancé, Dad. I’m marrying Ronan in November.” Tennyson flashed his ring in triumph.

  “Calm down, Ten. It’s okay.” Ronan set a hand on his shoulder.

  “I heard you people could get married now,” David said simply.

  “You people?” Tennyson could feel the old anger churning in his gut. “You people?” he shouted.

  Dixie started barking at Tennyson’s raised voice. He could hear her nails clicking on the stairs, seconds later, she was barking outside their closed door. He should have known better than to start yelling at a ghost. Fitzgibbon would be knocking on the door at any second now with his gun drawn.

  “Which people?” Ronan asked.

  “My father just said that he heard ‘you people’ could get married.” Ten rolled his eyes so hard he was sure he was going to give himself a stroke.

  Ronan laughed. “What, you mean gays? Hell, David, we’ve been able to tie the knot in Massachusetts since 2004. It’s half the reason Tennyson came to Massachusetts when you turned your eighteen-year-old son out of your house!” Ronan was shouting now too. “In case you didn’t know, Salem, Massachusetts is known as The Witch City, thanks to the Salem Witch Trials. Religious zealots, such as yourself, used the Bible to murder people for being witches. Spoiler alert, they weren’t actually witches. Now, Salem is a haven for people with gifts like Tennyson, and members of the LGBTQ community, such as ourselves.”

  “Wow, he really stands up for you, doesn’t he?” David said.

  “We really stand up for each other. This is what unconditional love looks like, Dad.” Tennyson pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache coming on.

  “Actually, that’s why I’m here.” David sounded serious.