Dead of Winter (Cold Case Psychic #15) - Pandora Pine Page 0,10

case has been cold for thirty-five years. I can feel how excited you are, but maybe keep a lid on that for now? Skye and her family are going to need serious investigators, not a bunch of hopped-up teenagers attending nerd camp.”

“Nerd camp?” Ronan asked, a smile twisting his lips.

Ten rolled his eyes. “The last thing these people need are a bunch of Encyclopedia Browns showing up at their door.” He turned to Ronan. “Is that a better metaphor?”

“Are you getting something, Ten?” Fitzgibbon asked from the front seat.

“No, but I’ve worked these cases as an outsider. I remember my first day on the Michael Frye case. I thought I’d solve it by lunchtime, and we all know how that went.”

“I never knew you felt that way.” Ronan was intrigued. Their relationship as partners had gotten off to a contentious start. He wasn’t surprised one bit that Ten hadn’t shared that information with him.

“I might have been a bit too big for my britches.” Color bloomed over his cheeks. “I just don’t want the three of you to fall into that same trap. There’s a reason this case has been cold for so long, and Cap and Ronan are out of practice.”

“You’re right, Ten. We have been acting like excited boys. I’ll get that under control.” Over the last eighteen months, since he’d been retired, Ronan had put away his detective hat and all the emotions and procedures that went along with it. He was going to need to refocus his energy on being a detective again, and not some retired cop playing a one for shits and giggles.

“I agree, Ten. Thanks for the pep talk.” Fitzgibbon made eye contact with Ronan in the rearview mirror.

Jude snorted from the front seat.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m the only one who came out of Ten’s little chat unscathed. A first for me.” Jude held his fists up in victory.

Ronan gave Jude’s head a shove before laughing along with him. He had a feeling this would be the last time any of them would laugh today.

6

Tennyson

Walking into the Magick shop as a member of the newly minted detective squad was weird for Tennyson. Usually, he spent his commute to the store centering himself for the readings he had scheduled for the day. Today, he’d tried to wrangle the three amigos into a more professional mindset. He wasn’t sure they’d listened, but the proof was in the pudding.

“Good morning, Ten!” Cole greeted from the cash register. He was ringing up purchases for a young woman whose eyes widened when she caught sight of Tennyson.

“Hi, Cole.” Ten saw the young woman. He was hesitant to say anything, not wanting anything to sidetrack their mission this morning. Instead of speaking, Ten waved to the woman and headed toward Jude’s reading room. As he strode past, Ten could hear Cole telling the customer about a big case the team was working on this morning. Thank God for Cole. He knew Ronan, Jude, and Fitzgibbon were behind him with the file and serious looks on their faces.

Kevin set the folder in the center of the table while the others took a seat. He seemed unsure of himself.

“Cap, you and Ten start with the folder. Jude and I will look for media reports and print articles. Fair enough?” Ronan asked. He was halfway to the door before Kevin nodded. Jude was right behind him.

“They’re gonna grab their laptops,” Ten said, feeling awkward. He knew whatever was in that folder would trigger his brain powers, as Ronan called them. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt anxiety over my gift.”

“What do you mean?” Kevin’s shoulders dropped a bit and he looked like he was starting to relax.

“Working full-time at the store, I meet with grieving parents or people desperate for a look at their future. Will they find love, happiness, money? I’m not going to run up against anything like that in the Washington case. A teenage girl is dead, and someone killed her. She isn’t going to have hellos from heaven to pass on to her family, she’s going to tell me the story of her murder. If I can get her to talk to me.”

Fitzgibbon nodded. “Why wouldn’t she want to talk to you?”

“It’s been so long since her murder. It’s possible she’s moved on.” Ten shrugged. “It’s also possible she’s a raging mass of anger which has had decades to build and fester.” Ten wasn’t a fan of either option. A third choice, which he’d keep to himself for