“How did you kill Tommy?” Jude asked.
Ronan saw that Jude had unholstered his knife and was holding it in his right hand, ready to use at a moment’s notice. He was comforted by the weapon but knew Sullivan would have one good charge in him and wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“I mixed rat poison into the jelly on his sandwich.” Sullivan smiled, obviously at the cleverness of his plan. “The one thing Dad and I did together was put out poison for the rats and watch them die.” He laughed. It was an ugly sound, filled with bitterness and malice.
“Why did you choose that particular day to kill your brother?” Fitzgibbon asked.
“It was Friday. That bitch teacher brought in cookies for her class. I knew she would get the blame. I made sure to start puking my guts out when Tommy collapsed so everyone would think I’d been poisoned too. No one gave a flying fuck. The paramedics didn’t help me, and my parents couldn’t have cared less!” Sullivan coughed again.
“What about Katie and Paul? Did you mean to kill them too?” Ronan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Sullivan had killed his five-year-old brother in order to get more attention from his parents. It was diabolical.
“I didn’t know the other kids would share his sandwich that day.” Sullivan shrugged as if it didn’t matter that two other innocent children died that day. “Them’s the breaks.”
“Did you get all that, Jude?” Fitzgibbon asked.
“Sure did!” Jude held up his phone. The motion brought the screen to life, showing the device had been recording the entire conversation.
Sullivan roared like a wounded bear. “You fucking son of a bitch!” He charged toward Fitzgibbon, who’d gotten back to his feet.
“Ten, call 911,” Fitzgibbon shouted as Sullivan ran at him.
Sullivan swung at Fitzgibbon, who ducked the punch. He grabbed hold of the raging man and managed to wrestle him to the ground. Ronan raced over, pulling his handcuffs from his back pocket. It took several tries, but he finally managed to attach both cuffs.
“Is everyone okay?” Ronan asked, his gaze traveling from a panting Fitzgibbon to a triumphant Jude and finally to his stunned husband.
“I’m good.” Fitzgibbon bent double, trying to catch his breath.
“Me too,” Jude said, coming to stand at Sullivan’s head.
Ten nodded as well but stayed silent. His eyes were glued to a nearby tree.
In the distance, Ronan heard the sound of sirens. It would only be a matter of time until the cops arrived to take Sullivan into custody. He stepped away from the coughing murderer to Tennyson. “What is it?”
“The kids,” Ten said, pointing to the tree.
Ronan followed the direction his husband indicated and saw a brief shimmer of the three friends. “Are they going to be okay?”
Ten nodded. “They’ve all crossed over. Tommy was crying, but the others were comforting him. He never knew it was his brother who ended his life.” Turning, he sniffled and wiped his sleeve over his damp eyes.
Ronan didn’t need Ten’s gift to know he was thinking about Everly and Ezra. As parents, they put a lot of emphasis on the two kids being best friends and always having each other’s backs. In the weeks and months before Ezra was born, he and Ten had a lot of conversations about sibling rivalry and how to make Everly feel special and not like she was being replaced by the new baby. It would devastate them both if their kids turned on each other, especially because of something he or Ten had done.
Four police cars pulled into Sullivan’s driveway. Fitzgibbon hurried to meet them and explain what the hell had happened here today. Ronan was content to stand and watch the police arrest Michael Sullivan. He made a mental note to tell the police to check into the deaths of his parents just to make sure Sullivan hadn’t hastened their departures.
Satisfied with a job well done, Ronan wrapped his arms around his husband and held on tight. All he wanted to do was get home to his kids and make sure they knew how much he loved them.
EPILOGUE
Tennyson
The next day…
Tennyson sat on a chair shaped like a butterfly while Everly studied the blue morpho sitting on her left sneaker. Its iridescent wings opened and closed. She turned to Tennyson with an awed look on her face. He kept snapping pictures when the butterfly lifted off her shoe and floated away.
“Daddy! How cool was that?” Everly asked, sitting next to him on the bench.
“It’s magic,” Ten said. “It doesn’t seem possible that these little creatures are real. They’re so delicate and small.”
“Just like me!” Everly giggled.
