Chapter 9
Ronan
Ronan had spent the morning going over files with Greeley.
They’d made a list of cases they were interested in working and planned on presenting them to Fitz after lunch.
All plans for the day went out the window when Fitzgibbon dropped an envelope with block-printing on his desk, joking how it looked like a ransom note.
As soon as Ronan read the first few lines about Tennyson keeping secrets, he’d seen red and charged out of the office like a bull in a China shop.
He’d heard Fitz and Greeley call after him and their thunderous steps coming down the stairs after him, but Ronan wasn’t stopping until he found Tennyson and could ask his husband what the fuck was going on.
Ronan hadn’t counted on running into a meeting between the psychics and a very pissed off Jude.
Kaye had been trying to calm him down, but his temper kept rising, along with Ronan’s.
He sat at the conference table feeling numb as Tennyson and then Cope read the letters they’d gotten from the anonymous letter writer.
Everyone was shouting in an effort to be heard. Ronan felt a headache coming on.
Fitzgibbon let out a shrill whistle, instantly silencing the room.
“Everyone take a breath and try to calm down.” After a few beats of silence, Fitz continued, “Ronan, read the letter you got today. Jude, read yours after Ronan is done. No bullshit from either of you, got it?” Fitz’s narrowed eyes moved back and forth between the two detectives.
“Got it,” Jude and Ronan muttered at the same time.
“Ronan, read.” Fitz pointed to the letter Ronan had been waving around.
With a brief nod, Ronan cleared his throat.
“My dearest Ronan,” he read out loud, with a shaky voice.
“I know something you don’t know. You don’t know me, but I know you.
I also know your husband, famed cold case psychic Tennyson Grimm.
I spy with my little eye, a man with secrets.
Deep dark secrets, the kind that could land you in divorce court and tear your family apart. ”
Ronan felt like throwing up. His mind cast back to the last time Ten hid something from him.
He’d thought his best friend and former partner, Tony Abruzzi, had been killed in the line of duty, when in fact the FBI had put him in protective custody to keep him safe.
Ten knew Tony was alive and never said a word because the FBI promised to throw him in jail and make sure he never saw Everly, who was a baby at the time.
That little secret had almost ripped them apart.
What the hell was this secret going to do to their marriage and family?
“Jude, go,” Fitzgibbon commanded.
Jude picked up his letter and held it up to his face. He moved it back and forth, before sighing. “I’m seeing double. I can’t read.” He passed the paper to Fitzgibbon.
“My dearest Jude,” Fitzgibbon began with a sour frown twisting his lips.
“I know something you don’t know. You don’t know me, but I know you.
I also know your husband, psychic Copeland Forbes.
I spy with my little eye, a tall, dark, and handsome man that your precious husband meets on Wednesday nights.
Complete with long hugs, time spent behind closed doors, and anguished partings.
As a reformed man-whore, you never saw this coming, did you?
I’m guessing this is why your husband failed to call for paramedics when you had your little tumble down the stairs.
He’s already got your replacement picked out. ”
Jude gagged. Greeley rubbed his back before grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge in the corner of the room.
Ronan opened his mouth to start questioning Tennyson, but a sharp look from Fitzgibbon shut him up.
“Cope, are you meeting someone on Wednesday nights?” Fitz asked.
“My shrink,” Cope said. “Kaye suggested I see someone when I couldn’t get over the guilt I felt over Jude’s accident. Dr. Briggs walks me to my car at the end of every session and hugs me, but there’s nothing else going on between us other than therapy, Jude. I swear.”
Fitz didn’t give Jude a chance to respond. “Ten, are you keeping secrets from Ronan?”
“Just the letters,” Ten admitted. “I wasn’t sure how to handle the contents. I hadn’t noticed any signs Ronan was drinking or messing around on me. I wanted to talk to Cope about what was written to see if he or Jude knew anything about the accusations made against him.”
“Ronan, can you shed any light on the letters claiming you were in the parking lot at Bob’s?” Fitz’s eyes stayed on his detective.
“I was staking the place out when we were investigating the Miller case. His widow, Emma, worked at the store. I was keeping an eye on her comings and goings and following her after the end of her shifts. I’d been working the stake-out with Fitz every night but one, when Aurora was sick.
All the kids had that stomach bug just after Christmas.
Fitz had caught it too and I told him to stay home.
As for the guy in the bar, I have no clue what that’s from.
I can’t tell you the last time I was in a bar. ”
“I can,” Jude said. “It was during the Chris Jones case. We thought the wife had killed him, but weren’t getting anywhere with her.
Fitz and I had been the one to interview her.
Ronan had been back in the office that day and hadn’t met the widow, so we used him to get close to the son, who worked as a corporate lawyer in Boston.
That’s why he was in a suit. Turned out that Ronan got nothing from the son that night. The case is still open.”
“Jude and I were in the van that night with Ronan, Ten. He left the bar alone and drove home with us.”
“I knew Ronan wasn’t cheating,” Ten said softly.
“But you wondered if I’d started drinking again?” Ronan asked, trying to control his temper.
“I didn’t know at first.” Tennyson stared at his hands as he spoke. “As for the drinking, I wasn’t totally sure. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions and spoke to Cope the other night. He said he hadn’t noticed any signs of drinking.”
“When the hell were you going to tell me about these letters?” Ronan asked.
“Soon,” Ten said, finally meeting Ronan’s eyes. “I showed Cope my letters last night and he showed me the one he’d gotten. We both wondered if Carson and Cole were getting them too, which was why I scheduled this meeting for today to ask them. Our next step was to bring you all in.”
Cole got out of his seat. “I need to get to Cassie and tell her what’s going on before she gets home and finds a letter of her own.”
“I need to do the same with Truman. The kids will be getting home from school soon.” Carson turned to Fitz. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help you sort this mess out.”
“Actually,” Fitz began, pulling out his notebook, “have the kids gotten into any trouble recently at school?”
Carson nibbled his lower lip for a few seconds.
“Last week, they got in trouble for standing up for a classmate being bullied. The bully took a swing at Brian, but hit Bertha instead. Brian and Steph grabbed him and started dragging him away. The teacher only saw the end, which made the kids look like the troublemakers.”
Fitzgibbon nodded as he wrote. “Cole, when does Cassie get flour deliveries?”
“Every Wednesday. Now that I’m thinking about it, the usual driver is older, in his sixties, but he missed last week’s delivery with the flu, so his son, who’s Cassie’s age, filled in for him. What are you thinking, Fitz?”
“The letters mention Jude’s accident and Ronan’s stake-out, both of which happened over the last few weeks. Same with Cope visiting a shrink and Tennyson keeping the letters a secret. Whoever is sending these letters has only recently come into our orbit.”
“I hate to say it,” Greeley began, “but I’m thinking the four of you are the common denominator here.
” He pointed between Carson, Cole, Ten, and Cope.
“What we need to do is go over your clients from the last two months or so. See if they overlap or if members of the same families met with each of you.”
“Good plan,” Fitz said, grinning at his son.
“We’ll get on that first thing in the morning,” Carson said, before he and Cole left the room.
“Let us know if you need help investigating or want us to show up on the letter writer’s doorstep.” Fitz grinned, as if he couldn’t wait to ring that doorbell. “Ronan take all the time you need. Jude, go home!”
Jude looked like he was about to protest, but stayed silent and simply nodded.
Looking satisfied, Fitz and Greeley left the room.
“Okay, big guy, let’s get you home.” Kaye got out of her seat and helped Jude to his feet.
“You know I didn’t cheat on you, right?” Jude asked, sounding exhausted.
“Of course I know.” Cope wrapped his arms around his husband. “I’ll help you out to the car.” He took one arm and Kaye the other.
“I’ll see you later with pizza or sandwiches.
Text me what you want.” Ronan shut the door behind them.
He set his forehead against the door and tried to gather his thoughts.
“Ten, I’m so sorry.” Ronan took the seat across from Tennyson.
“I saw that letter about you keeping secrets and I just saw red.”
“That’s what these letters were designed to do. To put us at each other’s throats. To cause chaos and destruction.” Ten sighed. “I’m sorry too, for not showing my letters to you.”
“Did you think I’d done the things this butt munch wrote about?” Ronan asked, not quite sure he wanted the answer.
“I wondered for a few seconds, to be honest,” Ten admitted, sounding sheepish. “But then I read over the words and couldn’t help thinking they’d been written by a ten year old. I had a flash back to grade school.”
“God, I never slowed down enough to go over the letter a second time.” Ronan was such an asshole. He deserved to sleep on the sofa for a month.
“You’re forgiven,” Ten said, seemingly reading Ronan’s mind. “What we need to do now is figure out who’s behind this letter writing campaign. Confront the fucker and bring an end to this, once and for all.”
“Confront the fucker?” Ronan snickered. “It’s not like you to use that language.”
“This dickhead called our little girl the b-word. He or she is going to pay for that. Count on it.” Ten got up from the table and walked toward the door. “I’m gonna start looking at my client lists from over the last few months and see if any names jump out at me. I’ll see you at home.”
Now that Ronan had calmed down and was able to think clearly, he turned his head back to the letter writer. They were going to find out who was behind this smear campaign and Ronan was going to make the bastard pay for what he’d done.