“Reopen this classroom. It’s been closed up long enough. Hold a fundraiser. Let people bid on fifteen-minute sessions with a sledgehammer to break down the bricked-up windows and door. Get local companies to donate time and money to refurbish the room. This space should be for learning. The time to mourn is over.”
“You got it.” Max set a hand on Joseph’s shoulder.
“I want a whack with a sledgehammer,” Ronan said. “Give me a chance to work out some of my frustrations.”
Ten shot Ronan a surprised look. “What frustrations do you have? You’ve got a beautiful family. A husband who adores you, cooks your favorite meals, takes care of your children and does your laundry.”
“Well, there could be moreadoringfor a start.” Ronan waggled his eyebrows. “I’d like to be adored at least once a day. No, no. Make that twice a day.”
“In that case, maybe you should go adore yourself.” Ten snorted at his own joke. “We’d like to do anything we can to help, Max. This will be your crowning achievement. Your last act before you cross the border to the dark side in Massachusetts.”
“As for you,” Whittaker said, his eyes on Tennyson. “Find out who killed my students. What I’ve seen today is pure magic. Your gift is the most extraordinary talent I’ve ever witnessed. Clear my Marie’s name. Please.”
“We’ll do everything we can.” Ten didn’t want to promise something he wasn’t sure he could deliver, but he was going to do everything in his power to find out who was responsible for Tommy, Katie, and Paul’s deaths.
Marie’s soul had flown free. It was time to restore her reputation at long last.
19
Ronan
After the emotional reunion between Joe and Marie, Ronan wanted to go home and spend the rest of the day with Everly. They’d gotten out their paintbrushes and had their own sip and drip class in the kitchen, with Ten providing the drinks and promising to hang the works of art in the living room after they’d dried.
When art class was over, Everly had wanted Uncle Jude’s mac and cheese for dinner, which Ronan was more than happy to make with her. Ezra ate two helpings. Ronan snapped pictures of him going to town on his dinner and sent the best one to Jude. Lastly, they’d all settled in to watch a family movie before bed. True to his word, Ten adored Ronan, which sent him off to sleep happy and satisfied.
Now, riding in the back seat of Fitzgibbon’s SUV on the way to Concord, New Hampshire, to meet with Michael Sullivan, Ronan couldn’t help but think about what Marie said about the state of the Sullivan family in 1968.
“Are you okay?” Jude asked from the passenger seat. “It’s not like you to be this quiet.”
Jude had a point. “I was just thinking about how Michael was in charge of his brother while their parents worked and boozed, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s what we’re doing to our kids. We work a lot of hours on our cases. It’s not a typical nine-to-five office job. Is Everly going to end up raising Ezra like Michael did with Tommy?”
“First of all, we’renothinglike the Sullivans. Yes, we work a lot of hours, but we’re always there when our kids need us. You know we’d turn this car around right this very second if one of them needed us,” Jude said from the front seat.
Ronan sighed. The happiest day of his life had been the day Everly was born. Going back to work after his paternity leave ended had nearly killed him, which was why he’d retired in the first place. He’d missed being a cold case detective and wasn’t sorry he’d gone back to it now that Everly was in school, but there were nights he lay awake in bed wondering if he’d spent enough time with his kids. Would they resent how much he worked when they got older? Only time would tell. “I know. I just wonder if we’re doing enough.”
“We are,” Fitzgibbon said, breaking his silence. “I used to feel the same way when Jace was spending all of those hours at the mission. I felt like I had to fill my roleandhis. There just aren’t enough hours in the day. All we can do is make the best of the ones we have with our kids.”
Ronan knew Fitzgibbon was right. “What about you?” He turned to Tennyson, who’d been strangely quiet during this conversation.
“Something’s wrong,” Ten said. He wore a confused look as if he hadn’t been able to figure out what was going on.
“Wrong how?” Ronan asked with a sinking feeling in his gut. “Is it the kids?”
Ten shook his head. “No, the kids are okay. It’s something else.”
“Do you need me to pull over?” Fitzgibbon asked. His grim eyes met Ronan’s in the rearview mirror.
“No, I’ll have my head in the game when it’s time to talk to Michael Sullivan.” Ten gave his head a shake and reached for his coffee. He took a long sip, draining the cup.
The absolute last thing Ronan needed right now was a distracted Tennyson. This wasn’t going to be an ordinary meeting. His plan was to go in friendly. Ask Michael to talk about his brother and what he remembered about that time before the other shoe dropped and he asked if it was possible their parents killed Tommy and made Michael sick.
Families were complicated under the best circumstances. Some secrets ran deep. Affairs. Addictions. Murder. Michael sure as hell wasn’t going to want to shake Ronan’s hand when everything was said and done.
“Here we are,” Fitzgibbon said, parking the car across the street from a double-wide trailer that had seen better days. The yard was full of junked cars and tall weeds, while the stairs leading to the door looked a little dodgy.
“Jesus,” Ronan muttered under his breath. How the hell was there going to be room for the four of them, plus Michael and his wife, in there? He shivered in the warm car. “Let’s ask if we can sit out at the picnic table. I don’t want to go into that trailer.”
“Me either,” Jude seconded. He got out of the car and took one step toward the house when a dog started to bark. The sound was deep and full of power. Jude scrambled to get back into the truck when a large Rottweiler came into view. “Maybe we interview him here in the SUV?”
