“It’s possible one of the friends killed her and they made a pact to never tell.” Ten shrugged. “It’s also possible that Kyle Danner killed her and somehow the friends found out about it.”
“It was a bloody crime. Whoever killed Skye would have needed some help cleaning up. Not only themselves, but also the car the killer came in.”
“Maybe not,” Ten said. “It’s a case of not knowing what you know.”
Ronan shot Ten the stink eye. “Christ, Ten, I’m confused enough as it is. Don’t add to it with word games.”
Ten snorted. “You’re a cop, so you think like a cop. Or rather, like a criminal would do if they were trying to hide what they’d done.”
“Yeah, I’m with you so far.”
“Imagine a fifteen-year-old girl killing another. You’ve got raging emotions, hormones, and fear surging through your body. We’re talking about a high school girl. She has no idea what the hell to do next. This murder happened fifteen years before the debut of CSI and about eighteen years before shows like Cold Case, Forensic Files, and other true-crime documentaries were shown on television.”
“Good point. So, we’ve got a scared fifteen-year-old alone in the woods with no cell phone. What does she do?” Ronan asked.
“If it were me, I’d go to a friend’s house. One with parents who were out, asleep, or prone to being drunk.”
Ronan laughed. He pressed a kiss to Ten’s head. “That’s good thinking. I’m glad you didn’t decide to become a criminal.”
“Me? No way. My parents would have killed me, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t listen to the kids at school lay their problems out.”
“What problems?” Ronan had been to Union Chapel. What the hell kind of mischief was there to get up to in that one-horse town? Cow tipping?
“No, Ronan, not cow tipping.” Ten rolled his eyes. “And Union Chapel was more like a five-horse town, but I digress.”
“You’re just listening to everything I’m thinking tonight, aren’t you?” Ronan hoped Ten wasn’t reading his Christmas surprise. He’d gone to great lengths to keep that a secret.
“Mostly. You’re broadcasting your thoughts like Reagan Pryce was.” Ten set his head back on Ronan’s shoulder. “He thinks the world of you.”
“The feeling is mutual, now finish your story about teenage angst in Union Chapel.”
“Oh, right.” Ten snuggled closer. “Kids would get drunk and need places to sleep so their parents wouldn’t find out. I remember there was this one family who didn’t go to church. The parents were free-thinkers not weighed down by rules of organized religion.”
“Hippies?” Ronan giggled.
“Something like that. Their house was the one you went to when you needed to hide something from your parents.”
“Gotcha. So we need to find out which house was the one those girls would go to if they were in trouble and needed help.” All of the friends but one were dead, as were most of the parents. It was going to be an uphill battle if Lisa wouldn’t speak to them. “I left Lisa three messages today, and she didn’t even text me back.”
“Well, then, I guess we’re going to the gala after all.”
“Seriously, Ten. This woman was given the last-minute responsibility of taking over this charity event because her friend was murdered, and you want the two of us to crash the party so we can question her about a thirty-five-year-old cold case?”
“We aren’t going to crash anything. We’ve got an invitation, remember?” Ten waggled his eyebrows.
“Save the last dance for me?” Ronan asked.
“All of my dances are yours.” Ten leaned forward to kiss his husband.
Ronan pushed him back at the last minute. “If you start kissing me now, we’ll never shop for Everly. Shop first, fuck later?” Ronan was all smiles. He didn’t feel like he was eating worms anymore.
“Grab the credit card and I’ll turn on the computer.” Ten scrambled off the floor and over to the sofa.
There was nothing more important than making sure the people in his life got exactly what they wanted for Christmas. He knew Everly would love everything they picked out for her, but Ten was a different matter. He’d thought long and hard about what Tennyson would want the most this year. The idea he’d come up with was top shelf. It was literally the best Christmas present in the history of Christmas presents. Maybe. He’d have to wait and see.
30
Tennyson
Tennyson felt like he’d been hit by a bus. Not only did Ronan keep his promise to shop now and fuck later, but Ten hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep afterward. Ronan was running around like he was reborn. Good sex could do that to a man, Ten guessed. He was on his third cup of coffee, and all it was doing for him was making him edgy.
“Grab your coat, we’re leaving,” Ronan announced from the door to Tennyson’s reading room at West Side Magick.
“Leaving? Where are we going?” All Ten wanted to do was put his head down on the table and grab forty winks.
“Butchie and Kate are home for Christmas. We’re going to the Washingtons’ house.” Ronan was in cop-mode, looking ready to go out there and kick some ass.
Ten’s eyes widened. “You’re serious?”
“Serious as a heart attack,” Ronan affirmed. “I’m sick of these people not bothering to get back in touch with us. Muriel and Butch are still living in 1985, and their other children don’t have ten minutes to tell us what happened that night? Fuck that. We’re going.”
“You know,” Ten said, a smug grin spreading over his face, “I like it when you’re bossy and in charge like this.”
“Interrogate now, flirt later.” Ronan turned his back and was out the door.
How do you like those apples? Ten was worn to the bone and getting a little flirty, and Ronan shut him down like a rave. Oh well. The most important thing right now was solving this case so he’d be free of these people in time to have the merriest Christmas.
After Ten shrugged into his coat, he found Fitzgibbon and Jude waiting with Ronan outside the Magick shop. “What the hell took you so long?” Jude wore Ronan’s identical smirk. It seemed everyone was in the mood to kick ass and take names this morning.
“I was trying to psych myself up. Maybe we should play the Rocky theme while we drive?” Ten rolled his eyes and hoisted himself into the backseat of Fitzgibbon’s SUV.
The guys laughed but quickly huddled together. Ten knew he had the ability to listen in with his gift, but he didn’t have to. He knew Ronan was outlining his battle plan. Ten was never included in those. He’d be the one to sweep in after the carnage was over and speak to the worst siblings in history.
“What are you getting, Ten?” Ronan asked when everyone was piled into the car.
“Cold feet,” Ten deadpanned.
“You can’t be serious!” Jude objected from the front seat.
“Come on, Ten,” Ronan pressed a kiss to the side of his face. “We’re right at the finish line. I need you to hold on for just a little while longer.” Ronan fluttered his lashes. “If you do this, maybe later we can have a repeat of last night?”