Chapter 6
Tennyson
Ten’s entire body shook from the trauma of what had happened to him and what he knew was to come.
The captain who’d arrested him looked familiar.
Ten was certain he knew who the man was, but with his emotions in upheaval, his gift was useless.
Not that it really mattered who the hell the arresting officer was, Ten was in deep trouble.
After his arrest, Ten was brought to the Danvers Police Office, which happened to be near the old Liberty Tree Mall and the trampoline park the kids liked to go to.
Ten and Cope had plans to take them during April vacation in two weeks, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be in jail or able to go with the kids.
“Why didn’t you see this coming?” a young writer from the Boston Herald asked, running alongside Vance as he hustled Ten toward the building. “You’re a psychic, right?”
“Tennyson! What are the charges? How are you pleading?” John Jameson shouted.
Ten met Jameson’s eyes. They’d spoken together dozens of times over the years when he’d worked with the Boston Police Department and now with Salem.
He knew the reporter could be trusted, but he kept his mouth shut, not just because anything he said could be used against him in court, but because he didn’t know what the hell was going on himself.
He promised himself that if got out of this, he’d give an exclusive to Jameson, but he was a long way from that at the moment.
“What does the Salem Police Department have to say about one of their own being arrested?” the woman from NBC Boston shouted.
Vance stopped his relentless walk to the front lobby.
He spun Ten around so he was facing all of the cameras.
“We did not notify the Salem Police when the warrant was issued for Tennyson Grimm’s arrest. I didn’t want to give them the opportunity to squirrel Mr. Grimm away or to destroy evidence.
We have officers dispatched not only to the home our suspect shares with his husband and children but to his place of work as well.
I’ll be holding a press conference later this afternoon to discuss the charges. ”
“Will Mr. Grimm be given special treatment in lock up?” Jameson asked. “With him being a member of the Salem Police Department-”
“Criminals don’t deserve special treatment.” Vance grabbed Ten’s arm and propelled him into the lobby.
Reporters still shouted questions, which sounded more muffled the further into the building they got.
Tennyson’s heart broke at the thought of police officers going through his private things, not to mention that of Ronan and the kids.
All he could do was hope Ronan was doing everything he could on their end to keep everyone safe.
Speaking of Cisco, Ten didn’t know if he would still have a job with the police department after this.
Would Cisco hate him for poorly representing the Salem Police?
What about Carson and Cole? Would they want someone working for them who’d been arrested on fraud charges?
What the hell was fraud anyway? His head spun too fast to keep up with.
Instead, Ten tried to focus on what was happening all around him. Sneering faces greeted him as he was perp walked through the precinct. He could hear laughs and snickers as he was marched past, while others asked why he hadn’t seen his arrest coming.
“Stop here!” Vance ordered, shoving Ten against a wall. He roughly frisked Ten, pulling his pockets inside out, and giving his balls a squeeze.
Ten ground his teeth to keep from crying out.
Vance wasn’t going to be laughing when Ronan got his hands on this motherfucker.
His handcuffs were removed and his hands instantly burned from the rush of blood back into his fingers.
Ten rubbed his wrists, which were red and abraded from the cuffs digging into his skin.
Vance snapped pictures of Tennyson’s face. The blood had stopped flowing, and had turned crusty. After his face, Vance photographed his legs.
“Thanks for documenting my injuries,” Ten muttered.
“These pics aren’t for the police file. They’re for me to send my friends, you dumb piece of shit.” Vance grabbed Ten’s arm and brought him to a counter with a female officer. “He needs a mug shot and fingerprints. Bring him to Interrogation Room 2 when you’re done.”
The officer, whose name tag read, “Mayfield,” nodded.
“Let’s get you some evidentiary photos and medical attention before your mug shot, Mr. Grimm.
” She snapped a few pictures before grabbing a first aid kit and guided him toward a bench against the wall.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Grimm,” she whispered as she tended to Ten’s wounds.
She put a large bandage on his knee and did her best to wash the blood off his face.
“Is my nose broken?” Ten asked. He’d never been a beauty queen before, but a broken nose wouldn’t help.
“No, not broken, but you’re going to have a black eye in the morning. Make sure you document it. I’ll send my pictures to your attorney.” Officer Mayfield assured him. “Come with me and we’ll take your mug shot.
Ten did as he was told. He stood where she told him to stand and turned to his left, then right. When photos were taken, Ten wondered if they’d lead the six o’clock news. Would he and Ronan laugh about them someday, or would they be the last pictures Everly and Ezra saw of him until visiting day?
“Next is fingerprints.” Mayfield led him to the machine and watched in wonder as it scanned his prints into the database. “I have to bring you back to Captain Vance now. Do you need to use the restroom first?”
Ten nodded and Mayfield led him to the bathroom while she waited outside the door. He’d never been more embarrassed in his life, but at least she wasn’t in the room with him.
Mayfield walked him through the station to an interrogation room. “Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?”
“No, thanks,” Ten said. He knew if he tried to eat or drink anything, he’d throw up.
With a sympathetic nod, Mayfield left the room.
Ten looked around the cramped room. His chair was jammed against the wall, with a small square table in front of him.
Two more chairs sat on the opposite side.
Ten knew being caged in was a move cops used to intimidate suspects and he hated to admit to himself that it was working.
Lastly, the room had a mirror, which revealed the beginning of a black eye, just as Officer Mayfield had said.
Over his years working with law enforcement, Ten had stood outside the one-way glass more times than he could count, but this was the first time cops would be looking in on him.
He felt like crying but needed to keep his composure and his smarts.
The door burst open with Vance and the redheaded officer, who offered Ten his hand. “Officer Byron Weiss.”
Ten nodded, not wanting to touch the officer’s hand. The man gave off a bad vibe and he didn’t want that tainting him.
“Well, well, well, Mr. Grimm,” Vance said, taking a seat.
“Why am I here?” Ten knew he should have just asked for an attorney, but he had to find out what the hell was going on, then he’d invoke his Miranda rights.
Vance offered a shit-eating grin. “Tennyson, you’ve got three charges of fraud against you, for now. I’m sure there will be more once we’ve finished searching your home and office. A woman by the name of Autumn Miller swore out a complaint against you today.”
Jesus Christ at a pancake breakfast. After speaking with Elijah Logan, Ten should have known something like this was possible.
“Got anything to say about that?” Vance waited a few seconds.
“No? Well, I’ve got something to tell you.
I think you’re despicable, using your charm and charisma to cheat people out of their money, promising them the world and then breaking their hearts when your bullshit prophecies don’t come true.
I’ve waited for this day for so long and now that’s its here, I gotta tell you that it’s better than I ever could have hoped for.
The look on your face when I arrested you.
The shame on the faces of your friends and colleagues.
I only wish I could have been there to see the look on Detective O’Mara’s face when he finds out you’re going to jail for a decade. ”
The way Vance sneered Ronan’s name reminded Ten of who he was.
Vance had put up a stink when he wasn’t made a member of the cold case team.
He remembered Ronan and Fitz telling him what an ass Vance had made of himself.
This explained why the captain had been so excited to arrest Ten.
He was obviously gunning for Ten and he wasn’t going to give this asshole with a badge the satisfaction. “I’d like a lawyer and my phone call.”
Vance slammed his hands on the table so hard that Officer Weiss jumped. “You’re digging your own grave, pal. We were the only ones who could have helped you out of this mess and now you’ve blown it. Good luck, dickhead.”
Ten bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Help was the last thing Vance would have done for Ten. He’d sat through enough interrogations to know they started out friendly, before turning adversarial. Ten knew that was the part Vance had been looking forward to the most.
Vance turned to leave and paused with his hand on the knob.
“Oh, by the way, you’re not going to be able to see a judge today.
Turns out there was a fight at a block party in Peabody yesterday.
Dozens of people were arrested. You’ll be spending the night in county jail, which is a shame, because if you’d agreed to talk to us, you could have stayed here in our warm holding cell safe, with good food.
Enjoy the rat infested cells and shitty food.
You’re on your own now!” Vance laughed as he walked out of the room.
Ten’s stomach threatened to revolt over the idea of spending the night in jail. He’d watched plenty of episodes of Sixty Days In to know how horrible those places were. Not only were they horrible, but dirty, violent places as well.
Now, all Ten could do was wait for whatever came next. He knew Carson would have contacted Ronan and Reagan Pryce by now. It was just a matter of time until the calvary arrived to rescue him.