“Don’t know.” Carson shrugged. “I guess we’re going to have to wait for the next one and go from there.” He turned back to his brother. “Do you feel afraid when you get the vision?” Holding out his hands, Ten saw they were shaking.
“It’s not fear, exactly. More trepidation than anything else. Like something’s coming. What are you guys getting?” Cole pointed to Ten and Cope, who, to this point, had been silent.
“I can feel your discomfort,” Cope said. “I’m also sensing that something is coming, but I’m not seeing the hows and whys of it.”
“Same here,” Ten agreed. “I’m not getting that either of you are in physical danger from anyone, but more like the pain is almost self-inflicted. Like you’re doing this to yourselves. Which makes absolutely no sense.”
“That makesnosense,” Cole muttered, with Carson nodding in agreement.
“What’s our next step?” Fitzgibbon asked.
Carson tapped his phone, and seconds later, everyone’s text alert chimed. “I just sent you the most recent pic Corny sent me. So at least you’ll all know what he and his girlfriend look like if they show up here.”
Ten pulled up the photo. In it was a tall man who looked worn and weary. Next to him was a much younger woman with a bright smile and a tight tube top, barely containing her breasts, which he imagined was the point.
“Wow,” Fitzgibbon said. “I’m sure Corny’s with her for her personality.”
Ronan snorted and started to laugh. “Christ, I hope Bertha isn’t here to see this.”
“She’s not,” Ten said but had a feeling it wouldn’t take long for her to catch wind of her sons’ visions. In all the years he’d known Bertha, the only person she’d ever spoken poorly about was her ex-husband. For her sake, Tennyson hoped Cole seeing Corny in his vision was a coincidence. His gift told him thatwasn’tthe case.
Like it or not, Cornealius Craig was going to crash land at West Side Magick sooner rather than later.
3
Ronan
When the meeting wrapped up, everyone headed into the store. Carson unlocked the door and flipped the sign in the window from closed to open. He’d barely walked away when the bell jingled and a desperate-looking man walked in, carrying a bulging accordion folder under one arm.
Ronan thought the man looked familiar but couldn’t figure out why.
The man, dressed in khaki cargo shorts and aJustice for BashT-shirt, made a beeline for Tennyson. “Mr. Grimm, my name is Paul Stark. I need your help.” He turned to Ronan. “Thiers too.” Stark pointed to Ronan, Jude, and Fitzgibbon.
Ronan stared at the man for a moment and realized why he was familiar. “You’re Sebastian Stark’s father.” Sebastian had been all over the news three years ago when his lifeless body was found at the bottom of the cellar steps in his Salem University frat house. The subsequent autopsy had said foul play was possibly involved, but no one had been arrested, and the frat had not been suspended.
“I am,” Stark agreed. “You’re my last hope to find justice for my son.”
“Carson, would you get Mr. Stark settled in our conference room?” Ten asked.
“Sure, please follow me.” Carson ushered Stark into the office and toward the room they’d all just vacated.
“I’m free for the next hour. How about you?” Ten asked, his eyes on Ronan.
“We’re free too,” Ronan said uneasily. “The Stark Case is still being actively worked by homicide detectives. I’m not sure we could take this case from them if that’s what his father wants from us.”
“It’s been three years since Sebastian died. The case sounds cold to me.” Ten frowned, looking as if he didn’t like Ronan’s answer.
“The definition of what makes a case cold varies from state to state and even city to city,” Fitzgibbon said. “I believe it’s four years here in Salem.”
“What will it hurt for you three to sit in on this meeting? You all have your PI licenses. Technically, you could look into this case in that respect.” Ten wore a hopeful look.
“Yeah, but not without stepping on some toes, namely Cisco’s.” Fitz sighed. “We’ll sit in with you, but I can’t make any promises that we can get involved in this case.”
“That works for me.” Ten and Ronan headed toward the conference room. Carson met him in the hall. “Is he okay?”
Carson shook his head sadly. “No, I don’t think he is. The man is swamped by grief and anger. His moods swing between the two. Handle him gently. Sebastian was his only child. His wife died from cancer a year after his son passed. Paul Stark has really been put through the wringer.”
“Thanks, Carson.” Ten took a deep breath and walked into the room. “Mr. Stark, this is Kevin Fitzgibbon, Jude Byrne, and Ronan O’Mara from Salem’s cold case unit. They’re sitting in on this meeting as civilians, not in their official capacity.”
