“It really is.” Fitz shook his head. “Christ, I remember the day Ten and I met him out on Castle Island in Southie. He was skin and bones, strung out on drugs and scared to death the serial killer would find him and finish the job.”
Ronan hadn’t been there that day, but he’d met Greeley shortly after. Kicked out of his house by his foster parents, Greeley was living on the streets of Boston. If Fitzgibbon hadn’t stepped in, it was very unlikely Greeley would still be alive today. “He’s a tough kid. Hardworking too.”
“He sure is. Takes after his old man.”
“That’s for sure,” Ronan agreed. “So why the long face? Did you want him to stay in patrol longer or maybe work for cold case like we did?”
Fitzgibbon shook his head. “Greeley’s made no bones about wanting to work in homicide. I couldn’t be prouder of him.”
“But?” Ronan could tell something wasn’t sitting right with Fitzgibbon but couldn’t figure out what it was.
“But there was a story of a murder in Kenmore Square, near Fenway, last night. Did you catch the report?”
Ronan felt himself blush. “Ten and I went to bed early. The only thing I saw last night was my bedroom ceiling. Ride ’em, cowboy!”
Fitzgibbon chuckled. “Thanks for the visual. Excuse me while I wash my brain out with bleach.”
Ronan’s mood sobered. “There are murders in Boston almost every day. What’s so special about this one that it’s got you rattled?” He hadn’t seen Fitz in this much of a tizzy since the Michael Frye case.
“There were these series of murders back in the early nineties. The victims were all young college guys. Frat brothers. He struck during parties, taking advantage of the crush of people, loud music, and the haze of booze, drugs, and sex.”
“The Doorbell Killer,” Ronan whispered, not wanting anyone else to hear what he and Fitz were talking about.
Fitzgibbon nodded. “He’d ring the doorbell and shoot whoever was unlucky enough to answer the door.”
“I remember the case but not what happened to the killer.”
Fitzgibbon swallowed hard. “It was my case. I’d been with the department for ten years, and the bosses wanted me front and center. I’d been promoted to sergeant, and I was the face of the investigation. Six young men died that school year. Three before December break and three after. He was never caught. The murder in Kenmore has all the hallmarks of the ’90s killer. The only difference is the time of year. The first murder last time was in late September, and this is June.”
Ronan thought about what Fitzgibbon was telling him. As he mentally reviewed the area, an idea popped into his head. He grinned broadly.
“What? What is it?” Fitz asked. “You’ve got something, don’t you?”
“Just an observation, really.” Ronan took a deep breath. “I entered the police academy in June, two weeks after I graduated from high school. One of my classes was held at Grant Hall on the northeastern campus. What’s so memorable about that was the hot criminal justice majors who were walking around in shorts and muscle tanks. Summer semester was a gift from the gods.” Ronan waggled his eyebrows.
“Holy shit,” Fitzgibbon muttered. “Northeastern has housing in Kenmore.”
“Exactly,” Ronan said. “Was Greeley assigned to this case?”
“He was. Problem is that his partner is on desk duty, thanks to a titanic fuckup. He’s not going to be much help. Greeley’s coming over to talk about this next week.”
“Sounds like Greeley needs a new partner. One with experience, wisdom, and a way with words.”
“Jesus, Jace would kill me.” Fitzgibbon cracked a smile as he spoke. “Someone would need to watch Aurora during the day.”
Aurora was the least of Fitzgibbon’s troubles. “You want me to call Cisco Jackson and break the news? He’d probably make me captain. I mean, it’s been a long time coming with you riding my coattails and all.”
Fitzgibbon rolled his eyes. “Eat a dick, Ronan. No, eat a whole damn bag of them.”
“Only if they come in Cool Ranch.” Ronan laughed. He noticed Everly waving to him. “To be continued.”
“Keep your colossal mouth shut for now, huh?”
“What, me blab? Clearly, you have me confused with someone else.” Snickering, Ronan headed for Everly, who looked bored off her gourd.
“Daddy, the elephant is cute, but me and Brooke want to meet the baby goats.”
“What if it’s their naptime and we missed them?” Brooke’s bottom lip trembled as she spoke.
