Page 7 of Dead O’Clock

Ronan

The man he and Jude had brought into the conference room was stark, raving mad. In all his years in law enforcement, Ronan had never seen a man this crazed before. The man looked to be in his early fifties. His greying hair was unbrushed and he was dressed in wrinkled pants paired with an equally wrinkled button-down shirt. Unless he missed his guess, this was the outfit the man had worn the day before.

“Sir, we need you to sit down so we can figure out what’s going on that has you so scared,” Ronan said, already feeling exhausted.

“I’m not saying a word until the psychics get here. I want Tennyson and Carson. I need them. I’ll die without their help.” The man paced the room like a restless tiger.

“I’ll see what’s keeping them.” Ronan headed for the door.

“This isn’t how I planned to spend our Fitz-free morning.” Jude sighed.

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Me either.” Fitz had planned to work for a few hours this morning before he and Jace were off on their romantic weekend, but he’d changed his mind and wasn’t coming into the office at all. Ronan and Jude’s new plan was to work until noon and then take everyone to Lobster Charlie’s for lunch. He’d been dreaming of a hot-buttered lobster roll and couldn’t help but wonder if that plan was going to be put on hold. He also wondered if he should just call Salem EMS and let the professionals take care of the crazed man.

When he walked into Ten’s reading room, he found his husband and Carson in a whispered conversation. “Everything okay?”

Ten jumped, letting out a little yelp. “Not really. That reading was strange and horrible and about you.”

“Wait! What?” Ronan didn’t understand what Ten was trying to say.

“It’s not going to make any more sense if I say it again. We’ll talk about what happened later. How’s the man in the conference room?”

“A couple nuggets shy of a Happy Meal, but insisting he isn’t going to say a word until you and Carson join us.” Ronan didn’t like this one bit. An unhinged man insisting on speaking with Ten didn’t sit right with him and that was before Ronan considered that the man had been yelling about being murdered. What the hell was going on?

“Before we go in to see this man, there’s something you need to know.” Ten exchanged an uncomfortable look with Carson.

“What is it?” Ronan’s stomach tumbled like he was riding a rollercoaster.

“My gift isn’t working.” Ten’s eyes were on his shoes as he spoke.

Ronan set a hand under Ten’s chin, angling it up so he could look his husband in the eye. “What happened?”

“It was that man, Dan Rogers, the one who insisted on seeing me today for double my usual fee.”

“Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?” Ronan’s hands curled into fists. If that man had laid so much as a finger on Tennyson, he was going to pay.

“Like I said, I’ll explain it all later. I’m still processing what happened. He transferred a burst of emotion and images and it blew out my gift like an overloaded transformer. I’m not going to be of any use to you in there. I won’t be any use to that man either.”

“Bullshit,” Ronan said, wrapping Ten into a hug. “You’re sharper than half the detectives in the SPD without your gift. Let’s just get through this meeting and then I want to hear all about what happened with that man.”

“Me too,” Carson said, sounding nervous.

“Deal,” Ten said. He headed for the conference room door which had been left open. Jude stood near the man trying to calm him down, but didn’t seem to be having any luck.

“Tennyson! Carson! Thank God you’re here.” The man took a seat, still clutching the piece of paper he’d been waving around in the shop.

Carson sat to the man’s left, while Ten took the seat to his right. Ronan and Jude sat opposite.

Ronan took out his notebook and grabbed his pen. “We’re all here, Mr.?”

“Jones. Paul William Jones,” he said, sounding as if everyone in the room should know who he was.

Ronan frowned. He’d heard that name before. But how? Where? “You have us at a disadvantage, Mr. Jones. I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”

The others nodded their agreement.

“I was the warden at MCI-Cedar Junction before it was shut down by the state.” Jones started back and forth between Jude and Ronan.

“That’s right,” Ronan said. “I’m used to seeing you in your uniform. It’s been a while since the prison was shut down and even longer since the last time we’ve been there.” The Walpole prison had closed not a moment too soon in Ronan’s eyes. It had shuttered operations due to the low number of inmates serving there, along with the high maintenance costs of running a seventy year old detention facility.