Dead of Winter (Cold Case Psychic #15) - Pandora Pine Page 0,66

have solved this case and been on to the next one days ago.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.” Ronan wore a frown.

“That wasn’t my point. God, you’re a stubborn…” Ten sighed, refusing to say the word on the tip of his tongue.

“A stubborn what?” Ronan’s grin was back. His raised mood indicated he knew exactly what Ten had been about to say.

Ten couldn’t call Ronan a stubborn asshole in front of the baby. He’d get sent to time out again. Not that he couldn’t use the free time, but someone had to cook dinner. “Goat. You’re a stubborn goat.”

“Maaaaaa!” Everly bleated.

“Thank you for agreeing with me.” Ten looked from his daughter to his husband, who didn’t look nearly so charmed. “What I was trying to say was that the oldest case we worked at the BPD was about ten years cold. This crime was committed thirty-five years ago, and most of the alibi witnesses are dead.” Ten paused to study Ronan’s reaction. “If Kyle’s parents were still alive, they would have told us if he’d been out of the house the night Skye was killed. The same goes for the parents of Skye’s friends. What is it you always like to say about time loosening tongues?”

“That’s true enough,” Ronan agreed. “We don’t even know if Jennifer’s murder is connected to what happened all those years ago.”

“Why don’t you call Cisco and ask about the tips that have been coming in from the piece John Jameson did at Channel 5? You, Jude, and Kevin are the best detectives I know. I bet you could work through those tips in no time.”

“I’ll give the guys a call after dinner. I’m curious to see how Aurora is feeling, and what the hell Jude was off doing with Cope today.”

Ten snorted. “We know what they were doing, just not which position they were doing it in.”

“TMI, Ten.”

“Ten?” Everly asked, holding up ten fingers.

“That’s right, Queen E. You’re so smart.” Ronan peppered the baby’s face with kisses.

Tennyson pulled out his phone and started taping father and daughter. Dinner could wait.

27

Ronan

The ringing phone pulled Ronan out of a deep sleep. “O’Mara,” Ronan answered with a scratchy voice.

“Rise and shine. It’s crime-solving time,” Cisco Jackson’s voice burst through the phone.

“Jesus, Cisco, it’s,” Ronan narrowed his sleep-crusted eyes to look at the clock, “quarter past six.”

“Yeah, well, death waits for no one.” The tone in Cisco’s voice sobered.

“Who’s dead?” Ronan asked. He gave Ten’s shoulder a shake. How his husband slept through the ringing phone and Cisco’s booming voice, he’d never know.

“Heidi Lucas,” Cisco said grimly.

“What is it Ronan?” Ten asked, still sounding half asleep.

“Heidi Lucas is dead.” Ronan hit the button for speaker phone. “Was she murdered?”

“Not sure yet. Her neighbor checks on her every morning around five. Says Heidi is always an early riser. When she got no answer at the door, she used her spare key and found Heidi sitting dead in her recliner surrounded by her cats.”

Ronan shivered. Christ, not the cats again. “What do you mean you’re not sure if she was murdered?”

“According to the neighbor, Heidi had a month or so to live because of advanced lung cancer. She was weak as a kitten, and it wouldn’t have taken much to speed the process along. Get here as soon as you can. Bring the whole gang. Just watch out for the roads, it’s snowing.” The phone beeped three times and Cisco was gone.

“Oh my God,” Ten muttered. “Did we do this? Is this investigation the kiss of death?”

“Jesus, I was just thinking the same thing.” Ronan rested his head in his hands for a brief moment. “Hop in the shower. I’ll call out the troops.”

Thirty minutes later, they were all driving to Heidi Lucas’s house in Fitzgibbon’s SUV. The ride was silent with everyone being half asleep or in shock from the news of her death.

“Did either of you consider this is our fault?” Jude asked. He shifted in the front seat to face Ten and Ronan in the back.

“Repeatedly,” Ronan answered. It’s all he’d been able to think about. If Cisco hadn’t asked them to look into this case, Jennifer and Heidi would still be alive. Probably.

“None of this is our fault,” Fitzgibbon said, parking the SUV near the yellow crime scene tape roping off Heidi’s house and a portion of the street. “If Jennifer and Heidi’s deaths are related to the Skye Washington case, it’s the killer’s fault.”

“Obviously, we’re getting closer to the truth than the killer wants us to be.” Ronan had