Dead Reckoning (Cold Case Psychic Book 2) Read online

  The answer to that question was in his own hands and Ronan knew it. All he had to do was spend a couple of sessions with a therapist. Hell, it wouldn’t even be that hard and to have the chance to be back with Ten would be worth baring his soul to a total stranger.

  Pulling into a free parking spot in front of West Side Magick, Ronan shut off the car and gathered all of his courage. Not only did he have to face Tennyson, but all of his -their- friends as well. The crew of West Side Magick was more of a family than a group of friends and they’d welcomed Ronan with open arms.

  Walking into the shop now after breaking Tennyson’s heart wasn’t going to be easy. Not that it was going to stop him from putting on his big boy pants and doing it. Justin Wilson needed his help and nothing was going to stop Ronan from doing everything in his power to help the young man’s soul find peace.

  The bell over the shop door tinkled when Ronan stepped inside.

  “Ronan!” Truman Wesley greeted warmly, walking out from behind the counter of the bakery he co-owned with his best friend, Cassie, who just happened to be married to Cole Craig. He wrapped the detective in a warm hug. West Side Sweets occupied the store space next to the psychic shop. The common wall between the stores had been opened up so that shoppers could browse easily between both stores.

  Ronan wasn’t expecting this kind of a welcome. Truman was supposed to be home with his ten-week-old triplets, but here he was hugging the life out Ronan. “What are you doing here?” Ronan managed when Truman let him go and he could breathe again.

  Truman laughed. “Luisa Salazar and her sister, Inez, are home with the babies. Carson suggested the idea of me Skyping in for this family meeting, but I wanted to be here to see you in person.”

  Feeling humbled, Ronan tried to reign his unruly emotions back in. “Truman, I-”

  “I know what you’re going to say. Save it. We both know you and Ten are just going through a relationship hiccup. Carson and I went through the same thing. Did you know I actually broke up with him?”

  “You did?” Ronan had never heard this part of the story before.

  Truman nodded. “Carson never told me about the visions he’d had about me and the gunman until I walked into this store with Cassie who had a reading scheduled.”

  “It all worked out in the end though.” Ronan couldn’t imagine Truman and Carson not being married and not being fathers to those babies.

  “It did and I’m sure the same thing will happen with you and Tennyson.” Truman’s green eyes turned serious. “Listen to his concerns, Ronan. He cares about you so much. We all do.”

  Ronan sighed. He knew how much Tennyson cared about him. “I’ll listen. I promise.”

  “Come on. We’ve got breakfast set up in the reading room.” Truman grabbed his elbow and steered Ronan toward the back room where Tennyson, Cole, and Carson conducted psychic readings.

  On his way past the healing crystals, Ronan grabbed a fluorite crystal for his anxiety. It was through the roof. Even with Truman’s easy forgiveness, he could feel his heart pounding and had already sweat clean through the undershirt he wore beneath his white button-up. He still had to face Carson, Cole, and Tennyson.

  “Look who I found!” Truman crowed, squeezing Ronan’s shoulders, as he walked the detective into the room.

  “Hi, Ronan,” Cole and Carson said together.

  “I’ll add the crystal to your account, detective.” Tennyson raised an eyebrow in challenge.

  “I was just borrowing it. I didn’t mean to-”

  Tennyson burst out laughing. “I’m kidding. Come sit. I got you a coffee and your favorite passionfruit muffin.”

  Carson rolled his eyes.

  Ronan didn’t miss the frosty reception he was getting from Tennyson’s best friend. He didn’t blame Carson one bit. He’d been a dick to Ten, no doubt about it.

  “So,” Cole said, taking a giant bite out of his muffin. “Where do we start with this investigation?”

  “We?” Ronan asked with a smile. He broke his muffin in two while he studied Carson’s younger brother, who thankfully didn’t seem to be holding a grudge against him.

  “Yeah, we,” Cole said with a bit more force. “The last time we let you work with Ten, you broke his damn heart.”

  Well, so much for Cole not holding a grudge. Before Ronan could defend himself, Tennyson stepped in.

  “Guys, what’s going on between Ronan and me is between Ronan and me.” Tennyson glanced around the table at his friends. “I appreciate the support here, but what’s important is Justin Wilson. Ronan and I will figure things out along the way…or not.” Ten shot Ronan a challenging look.

  “Agreed.” Ten’s parting shot hurt more than he was willing to acknowledge at the moment. There was no time for hurt feelings now. They needed to get to work. Too much time had been lost already. “I’m hoping the three of you can contact Justin. I need to know where his body was left.”

  “Why?” Carson openly sneered at Ronan.

  “Jesus Christ, Carson, cut the shit,” Truman rolled his eyes. “If Ten is okay working with Ronan again then that’s his business. It’s our job to do what we can to help find this missing teenager.”

  “Is that so, husband?” Carson raised an eyebrow at his husband.

  “Yes, it is, wife.” Truman shot back with heat in his voice. “Christ, we have three ten-week-old babies at home that I need to get back to. I don’t have the time or the energy to squabble with you. Our babies need me.”

  “No, they don’t!” Cole said with obvious glee. “Look!” He flipped his iPhone around to show Truman the nanny cam video feed. The Salazar sisters were singing a Spanish lullaby to the babies who were sleeping soundly.

  “Thanks, Cole,” Truman said from behind gritted teeth.

  “Getting back to business,” Tennyson interrupted, “why do we need Justin to tell us where his body was placed?”

  “So that we can find it, then claim it from that town’s medical examiner’s office, and have it autopsied again for evidence,” Ronan said softly. He loved the men sitting around the table, but they had very little experience with murder victims. That kind of wide-eyed innocence was a good thing in most cases, but when it came to murder investigations hearing this kind of detail could be a shock to the system.

  “Jesus, so you mean he’s a John Doe out there somewhere? Alone in some morgue?” Carson asked. “God, I’m an asshole, Ronan.”

  Knowing better than to agree out loud, Ronan took a huge bite of his muffin.

  “Plus, there are parents out there who will want to know what happened to their child and lay him to rest,” Tennyson added.

  “Exactly,” Ronan said. “We need to find out what happened to this boy before he died so that we’ll know how to approach his parents. Then we need to know what happened to him after he died and where the killer left his body.” Ronan hoped Tennyson understood what he was asking for. He wasn’t really in the mood to explain that Tennyson needed to ask if the spirit had been raped as well as murdered.

  “And you wanted to meet here since Justin has visited Tennyson here in the store so many times?” Cole asked before taking a sip of his coffee.

  “That and because I was missing Cassie’s muffins.” Ronan grinned at his friends, missing the old banter between them before he’d gone and messed up the best thing in his life.

  Cole snorted. “Yeah, you look like you’ve dropped a little weight there, pal.”

  Cole had a point. He hadn’t been sleeping or eating much since Tennyson dumped his stupid ass, but now wasn’t the time or place to drop that little gem on the group. “Nah, this shirt just makes my shoulders look smaller.”

  It was Tennyson’s turn to laugh. “Eat up, everyone, so we can get to work. The quicker we can get to work; the quicker Justin’s soul can rest in peace.”

  5

  Tennyson

  Tennyson knew Ronan was full of shit. He’d mapped the stubborn detective’s body out like a cartographer. He knew every inch of sk
in, every blemish, every freckle. Ronan had definitely lost weight. If they gave out awards for deflecting, Ronan would be the world champion.

  Be that as it may, Ten knew Ronan was just trying to keep everyone focused on Justin Wilson. He would be bringing up the state of Ronan’s body and soul later on when they were alone in the car together and Ronan couldn’t storm out on him again.

  He sat quietly at the reading table while Ronan and Truman cleaned up the remains of breakfast. Taking some deep, cleansing breaths, Ten fought to regain his center and bring his racing heart back under control. It wasn’t like him to be nervous before a reading, but he felt like there was so much more at stake. Justin Wilson had come to him for answers. He felt responsible for finding out what happened to the young man.

  When everyone was once again sitting around the table, Tennyson reached out to Justin’s spirit. After a few minutes of not getting a response, he relaxed back against his chair.

  “Nothing?” Ronan reached out to Tennyson, but pulled back at the last minute when Carson half-growled at him.

  Tennyson shot Carson an annoyed look. He loved his friend like a brother but it wasn’t his place to scare Ronan off from touching him. “He’s not here right now.” Sometimes that happened. Spirits weren’t like dogs, they’d didn’t always come when you called them.

  “Maybe we could help?” Carson suggested looking at his brother.

  “It’s worth a try,” Tennyson agreed.

  The brothers linked hands and closed their eyes. They were much more powerful together than either of them was alone. It amazed Tennyson how far they’d come in the year he’d been working with each of them.

  “Hello, Justin,” Tennyson greeted. The spirit appeared behind Ronan and was curiously observing the detective, who he’d never seen before. “This is my friend, Detective Ronan O’Mara.”

  Justin gasped and stepped back.

  Tennyson rose out of his seat slowly. “He’s here to help you, Justin. Please don’t go. Ronan is my friend.” Tennyson set a hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “Actually, he’s more than my friend. He’s my boyfriend.”

  Ronan stood up slowly and slung an arm around Tennyson’s hips before pressing a kiss to the side of Ten’s head. “Hi, Justin.”

  Thank God for Ronan playing along. Justin seemed to visibly relax. “I’ve worked with Ronan on other cases before. It’s, ah, how we met actually. When you said you wanted me to solve your murder, I knew Ronan would be just the guy to help us.”

  “In order to help you, Justin, we need to ask some hard questions. Are you up for that?” Ronan asked gently.

  Tennyson was impressed. Ronan had come a long way since he’d interviewed five-year-old Michael Frye. He’d scared the boy so badly the first time, the boy had vanished.

  Justin nodded.

  “He’s ready to help.” Tennyson looked up at Ronan. He couldn’t help noticing the light was back in his ex-lover’s eyes. Guilt swamped over him. He knew this little bit of playacting wasn’t good for Ronan, but it was helping Justin feel more at home. Just one more thing to talk to Ronan about later when they were alone.

  Pulling back from Tennyson, Ronan reached for his flip notebook and pen. He took his seat and flipped to a blank page. “Tennyson told me that one image you sent to him was of a body in a frozen field. Was that your body, Justin?”

  Jesus Christ, straight to Final Jeopardy… Tennyson watched Justin bang the toe of his sneaker against the tile floor in a nervous gesture before nodding his head. “He says yes.”

  “Thank you. I know that was a hard question to answer. You’re doing great.” Ronan smiled before writing something down. “I know this might be a hard question to answer, but do you know where that frozen field is? What town?”

  Justin stepped forward, holding his hand out to Tennyson.

  Carson got up and moved forward toward both of them, but Tennyson’s upheld hand stopped him in his tracks.

  “We’ve got this, right?” Ten smiled at the spirit, who nodded. He held up his hand to Justin who touched their fingers together, just as he had done last night. One image came through clearly. It was a town line sign. “Welcome to Newburyport,” Tennyson read.

  Ronan kept writing. “That’s wonderful, Justin.” He looked up at Tennyson and shot him a troubled look as if he weren’t sure how to say what he needed to say next. “About your family…”

  Justin pulled back from Tennyson as if he’d been burned.

  Tennyson had a feeling that would be the teenager’s reaction to any mention of his family. “What the detective is trying to say is that we are going to need a way to identify your body and DNA is the best way to do that.”

  Justin drew a question mark in the air with his finger.

  “He wants to know why?” Tennyson figured this answer would be better coming from Ronan than from himself.

  “For two reasons, actually. First, we need to be able to identify you so that we can conduct a forensic autopsy to look for any clues that will help us identify your killer. Secondly, so that your parents will be able to lay you to rest.”

  Justin started to wildly shake his head no. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

  “It’s okay. You’re okay,” Tennyson soothed. “Did you run away from home?”

  Justin shook his head no.

  “They kicked you out?” There was heat in the question. Ten felt his hands ball into fists at his side.

  Justin nodded.

  “For being gay?” Ten asked gently.

  Justin’s tear-filled eyes blazed with anger. He didn’t need to nod. Tennyson knew the answer to his question. “Me too,” Tennyson set a hand over his heart. “They kicked me out on the day I graduated from high school.”

  Justin’s look turned angrier. He swiped at the tears falling down his face before setting a hand on Tennyson’s shoulder.

  The image that came through was unmistakable. It was a picture of Julia Roberts dressed in a red gown with Richard Gere holding a jewelry box open to her. It was a scene from the movie Pretty Woman. “You were a male prostitute after your parents kicked you out?”

  The teenager nodded again.

  “Was the man who killed you one of your johns?” Ronan asked.

  Another nod from Justin before he sent Tennyson another image.

  Tennyson snorted. He couldn’t help himself. The picture Justin sent was of the electric chair. “We’re going to find this guy, Justin. I don’t know how, but I promise you we will find him.”

  6

  Ronan

  It had been ages since Ronan had driven this far north up Route 95. His ex-husband had been more of a city guy, but Ronan managed to convince him to take a three-day weekend trip to Hampton Beach just over the state line into New Hampshire the first summer they’d been married.

  Ronan had loved the wide-open spaces the New Hampshire seacoast had offered, while his ex had whined about missing Boston. He had a feeling Tennyson would love Essex County, Massachusetts. It was artsy and gay friendly. Gloucester was filled with art colonies and one of the oldest active ports in New England. Essex and Ipswich were known for their mouth-watering seafood. Hamilton and Wenham were known for being wealthy bedroom communities for Boston businessmen who were tired of city living.

  He wished they were making the drive for pleasure, rather than business, but maybe they’d be back this way again if he ever managed to get his head out of his ass and apologize to Tennyson.

  “You were really good back there,” Tennyson said, breaking Ronan out of his thoughts.

  “Oh, with Justin, you mean?” He remembered Ten chastising him not too long ago for being easily frustrated with spirits.

  “Yeah, I was impressed.” Ten’s tone was genuine.

  Ronan laughed. “Well, you kept telling me what a dick I was with Michael Frye, so I worked on my delivery a bit since I had some free time on my hands.”

  “Ronan, I-” Tennyson looked like he had a whole mouthful of things to say.

  “No, it’s fine. I d
idn’t mean it like that.” Shit, he’d gone and stuck his foot in his mouth. Again.

  “I know you’re not eating or sleeping well,” Tennyson’s voice challenged.

  Sighing, Ronan took his eyes off the highway to look at Tennyson. Stubborn as always. “Fine, I’m not eating or sleeping well. I miss you. Happy?” Fuck, that hadn’t come out the way he intended it.

  “Care to rephrase that?” Ten grinned.

  “Damn psychic, yes, I would care to rephrase that.” Ronan shook his head. How the hell did you win a fight with a man who could read your emotions like a book? By telling the truth, he supposed. “I’m struggling.”

  “This is where we left off two weeks ago,” Ten said wearily.

  “I know it is. Josh fucked me up good and I’m not sure I can come back from that, Tennyson.” Ronan sucked in a ragged breath. “The man raped and killed someone so that he could start our life as a married couple on a clean note. I mean, I get that I need to speak to a therapist about that, but how in the fuck do I ever get those words out of my head? He killed an innocent person thinking that act would kill his own sickness. Jesus Christ.” It always came back to this. Ronan had a feeling it always would.

  “I’ve seen the toll this has taken on you, mentally and physically,” Tennyson started.

  “I was doing the one day at a time thing from when I was in rehab, you know?” Ronan had battled a drinking problem after Josh had divorced him. Thankfully his ex’s confession hadn’t sent him running for the nearest bar, but it had sent him into a downward spiral of depression and endless rounds of the “what if” game. “Then I lost my shit, and lost you and our friends and…” Lost the will to live… He’d be damned if he let those words slip past his lips though. Ten didn’t need to know how far he’d sunk.

  Glancing over at Tennyson, he could see the guilt in his ex-lover’s dark eyes.

  “Look, this isn’t meant as a guilt trip. I don’t want that for you. I just haven’t been taking very good care of myself and that’s on me. I promise I’ll do better. We just had this thing we were building… and then it was gone.”