Page 14 of Dead Sure
“You got it,” Dixon said.
“What’s happening with Tennyson?” Ronan asked. “Were you able to see or speak to him or someone at the jail?”
Pryce nodded. “I spoke with the warden of the county jail, Jeff Brinks. He’s a member of my poker game. I explained the situation about Ten working for the Salem PD and being openly gay. Jeff hadn’t been made aware of either of those things. They had Ten scheduled for a cell in general population, but Jeff was able to get Ten into protective custody. He’ll be safe for the night, but won’t have access to a phone to call you, Ronan.”
Fresh tears flowed down Ronan’s face. “Are they feeding him? Can I bring him dinner or a warm blanket?” The idea of Ten being alone in a cold jail cell was almost more than Ronan could bear.
“Yes, Ten’s being fed and was issued with a standard bed roll and linens. You can’t see him or send him anything,” Pryce said.
Ronan felt like he was on the verge of collapse.
“I’ve got this, okay?” Pryce squeezed Ronan’s shoulder. “I’m going home to prepare my arguments for the arraignment tomorrow. How much money can you get together for bail?”
“As much as he needs,” Fitz said. “Jace and I will take care of it.”
Ronan’s eyes widened. “Jesus, Fitz, I can’t let you-”
“It’s been decided, Ronan. We’ve got it and anything else you guys need. We’ll keep the kids out of school tomorrow. Jace can stay with them.”
“Same with Cope,” Jude chimed in. “Carson’s closing the shop tomorrow. The guys are going to clean up after the search warrant and do phone or Zoom readings with clients who don’t want to reschedule. He also said to expect a huge surge of customers over the next few days.”
“Why?” Ronan asked. “Rubbernecking?”
Jude smiled. “Your husband is beloved in this city, Ronan. There’s already a GoFundMe one of his clients set up to take care of you and the kids. Salem is behind Tennyson all the way. Now let’s get your weepy ass out of here and make a plan of battle.”
“Battle?” Ronan asked. What the hell could he do with Ten stuck in jail on trumped up charges?
“We’re not gonna sit here and let Vance walk all over Ten, right Cap?” Jude grinned.
Fitzgibbon nodded. “We’re gonna work the Autumn Miller case. If you’ve got a problem with that, chief, speak now. It won’t change my mind, but your objection will be on the record.”
Cisco sighed. “All above board, you three. I fucking mean it. Dot every I. Cross every T. Dig up every speck of dirt there is on thiswoman and maybe we’ll be able to get her to drop the charges against Ten.”
“What about Dutch Vance?” Ronan asked, envisioning himself wrapping his hands around the man’s throat and squeezing until his face turned purple.
“Leave that motherfucker to me.” Cisco grinned. “Get some sleep. Call if you need anything. I mean it, Ronan.”
“Thanks, Cisco.” Ronan got out of his seat.
“I’ll call when I get an arraignment time for Tennyson.” Pryce shut his briefcase and left the room. “I’ll need my retainer before then.”
“Email the invoice to me and I’ll pay it tonight,” Fitzgibbon said, in a voice that brooked no argument.
Ronan followed Fitzgibbon out of the conference room. He felt the love and support from his boss and colleagues. Tennyson was in for one hell of a fight and Ronan would stand by his side every step of the way.
When all of this was behind them. Vance had better watch his step. Ronan wasn’t going to let him get away with what he’d done today.
8
Tennyson
The loud clang of Tennyson’s cell door slamming shut sent a chill sweeping through his entire body. Barring an emergency, the door wouldn’t open again until six the next morning. As much as Ten hated to admit it, his time in the jail hadn’t been as bad as he thought it would be. Yes, the place smelled and the food was nearly inedible, but he’d survived eight hours in jail without getting so much as a scratch.
Thankfully, Officer Mayfield’s efforts combined with Reagan Pryce’s had gotten him a cell in the protective custody unit. The unit was reserved for high profile suspects, people involved with the police department, courts, or prisons, as well as child molesters, and openly gay men. Ten supposed he’d checked three of the boxes, being high profile in Salem, working for the Salem Police, and being openly gay. The unit was mostly empty. Only five other inmates were in the unit. Two were gay, one was a former judge, and the other three never left their cells. Ten could reach out with his gift to find out why they were in jail, but figured he was far better off not knowing.
Speaking of his gift, he’d shut it down tight the minute he’d been arrested. Ten knew he was too emotional to learn anything constructive. It had been obvious how almost everyone in the Danvers PD had felt about Ten. The last thing he needed was to hear their private thoughts about him. He’d been able to keep a lid on it from the time he’d been transferred from the police department to the jail and was hoping he could keep it that way until the morning when he was scheduled to head to court.
If Ten had thought his treatment had been poor at the police department, it was far worse at the county jail. After he’d beentransferred, Ten had his mug shot taken again and had been subjected to a strip search, which had included his greatest humiliation to date, spreading his naked butt cheeks and coughing to make sure he wasn’t smuggling anything into the jail. He’d been handed an orange prison uniform that only God knew how many other men had worn. Ten hadn’t bothered to look at himself in the mirror to see if orange truly was the new black.
