“Well, at least we asked permission this time instead of begging for forgiveness,” Ronan said, feeling victorious. There had been plenty of times when the opposite had been true.
Fifteen minutes later, the van pulled up in front of Boston Police Headquarters in South Boston. “Home sweet home. This is where it all began for us, Fitzy.” Ronan slung an arm around his boss.
“I knew you were trouble from the word go.” Fitzgibbon rolled his eyes. “Captain Davidson came to me and begged to let you join cold case after you got out of rehab. That man loved you like a son and he wanted to make sure you’d have a place to land when you got your shit together.”
“Cap was one of the good ones.” Ronan never knew Davidson had gone to bat for him until now. All he remembered from that time was being grateful to still have a job. The fact that he was able to keep his detective’s shield was a bonus, Ronan was eternally grateful for.
The detectives hurried across the street and into the precinct. After waving to a few old friends, they piled into the elevator and were on their way. When the elevator dinged, Ronan stepped out into the hallway and turned toward Cold Case.
The office smelled the same, a strange mix of coffee and dirty socks. “There’s my old desk!” Ronan didn’t know the young detective sitting there, but knew he was good if Faulk had hired him.
Ronan and Faulk had hooked up on a case for the first time when mob boss Vito Dragonni had his murder conviction overturned on appeal. Faulk had been deep undercover in the Dragonni crime family and was instrumental in bringing Dragonni to justice after he’d started killing those who’d put him behind bars in the first place. Ronan’s name had been on Dragonni’s hit list. Thankfully, they’d found Dragonni before he found Ronan.
“Hey, man!” Ronan said, knocking on Faulk’s office door, which was standing open. The office had been his after Fitzgibbon retired to stay home with Aurora.
“Hey, Ronan, Jude, Cap.” Faulk got out of his seat to shake hands with each of the detectives.
“Were you able to find a case file on the circus murder back in 1995?”
Faulk nodded. “Yeah, but there’s not much. We’ve got the 911 call from that night, crime scene photographs, along with the interviews conducted with the employees of the circus. Lastly is the autopsy report. Unfortunately, the doctor who performed it has passed on. There was no murder weapon found.”
“Slim pickings,” Fitzgibbon muttered.
“Yup. I had copies of everything made for you.” Faulk handed Jude an accordion folder divided into different sections.
“Thanks, Faulk, we really appreciate you letting us run with this case.” Ronan grinned at the captain.
“There’s no one better at this than the three of you plus Ten. You’ve got seven days until the charity circus performance and then everyone leaves town. I would imagine they’ll go deeper off the grid this time if the murder is still unsolved by the time the big top comes down, so to speak.”
Ronan had been thinking the same thing. Celestina had been able to contact a lot of the old gang to round them up for this performance. He had a feeling none of those phone numbers would work come Sunday morning. “We’ll let you know what we dig up.”
“I’d appreciate that. Oh, and you’ll need these.” Faulk reached into his desk and pulled out several gold badges.
Ronan took his from Faulk. “Why do you still have these? They should have been reassigned to other people.”
“No way,” Faulk laughed. “I knew sooner or later you’d be needing them again and there’s too much paperwork required to requisition new ones. Let me know if there’s any evidence you need to run through the lab. Although, after all these years, I can’t imagine there being anything left to test.”
“Unless Jack’s killer held on to the murder weapon,” Fitz mused. “We all know how killers love their trophies.”
“Indeed we do,” Faulk agreed. “Good luck, guys. Riordan, the girls, and I will see you at the circus performance. Isla and Macy have been talking non-stop about getting to see the clowns.”
Ronan shivered in the room. “They need to have their heads examined.”
“Amen, brother, but don’t tell my husband. He loves clowns too.” Faulk grimaced.
“We’ll be in touch.” Ronan hung his badge on his waistband and headed out the door. “We’ve got half an hour before we have to meet Ten and the others at the restaurant, which means we’re not going to have a lot of time to look over the file.” He pressed the button for the elevator.
“Jude you’re on crime scene photos,” Fitz said. “Ronan, you get the witness interviews, and I’ll handle the autopsy. We’ll get together tomorrow and share our findings.”
“You got it.” Ronan couldn’t wait to share this information with Tennyson. There might be some details his gift would give him that wasn’t in the case file. Ronan hoped this would help take his mind off the recurring nightmare and his vision of Celestina. Ten thought the two were connected, which troubled Ronan more than he was willing to admit.
His eye was firmly set on Ying Yang as the killer, which he knew he needed to set aside until facts led him in that direction. Just because a man threatened kids, beat his wife, and controlled his daughter didn’t mean he was a killer.
Or did it?
10
Tennyson
