3

Ronan

When the meeting wrapped up, everyone headed into the store. Carson unlocked the door and flipped the sign in the window from closed to open. He'd barely walked away when the bell jingled and a desperate-looking man walked in, carrying a bulging accordion folder under one arm.

Ronan thought the man looked familiar but couldn't figure out why.

The man, dressed in khaki cargo shorts and a Justice for Bash T-shirt, made a beeline for Tennyson. "Mr. Grimm, my name is Paul Stark. I need your help." He turned to Ronan. "Thiers too." Stark pointed to Ronan, Jude, and Fitzgibbon.

Ronan stared at the man for a moment and realized why he was familiar. "You're Sebastian Stark's father." Sebastian had been all over the news three years ago when his lifeless body was found at the bottom of the cellar steps in his Salem University frat house. The subsequent autopsy had said foul play was possibly involved, but no one had been arrested, and the frat had not been suspended.

"I am," Stark agreed. "You're my last hope to find justice for my son."

"Carson, would you get Mr. Stark settled in our conference room?" Ten asked.

"Sure, please follow me." Carson ushered Stark into the office and toward the room they'd all just vacated.

"I'm free for the next hour. How about you?" Ten asked, his eyes on Ronan.

"We're free too," Ronan said uneasily. "The Stark Case is still being actively worked by homicide detectives. I'm not sure we could take this case from them if that's what his father wants from us."

"It's been three years since Sebastian died. The case sounds cold to me." Ten frowned, looking as if he didn't like Ronan's answer.

"The definition of what makes a case cold varies from state to state and even city to city," Fitzgibbon said. "I believe it's four years here in Salem."

"What will it hurt for you three to sit in on this meeting? You all have your PI licenses. Technically, you could look into this case in that respect." Ten wore a hopeful look.

"Yeah, but not without stepping on some toes, namely Cisco's." Fitz sighed. "We'll sit in with you, but I can't make any promises that we can get involved in this case."

"That works for me." Ten and Ronan headed toward the conference room. Carson met him in the hall. "Is he okay?"

Carson shook his head sadly. "No, I don't think he is. The man is swamped by grief and anger. His moods swing between the two. Handle him gently. Sebastian was his only child. His wife died from cancer a year after his son passed. Paul Stark has really been put through the wringer."

"Thanks, Carson." Ten took a deep breath and walked into the room. "Mr. Stark, this is Kevin Fitzgibbon, Jude Byrne, and Ronan O'Mara from Salem's cold case unit. They're sitting in on this meeting as civilians, not in their official capacity."

"I need your help! All of you!" Stark shouted.

"I understand that, Mr. Stark, but there are rules that govern open cases at the Salem PD. We all want to hear what you have to say. After that, we'll be able to decide the best way to help you." Fitzgibbon took a seat across from the angry man.

"As far as I'm concerned, Jimenez and Watts are fucking useless." Stark looked like he was on the verge of going nuclear.

Ronan recognized the names. He'd had brief interactions with both men and hadn't been overly impressed with their case closure rates, but other than that, he knew next to nothing about them.

"Those are the homicide detectives assigned to your son's death?" Kevin asked, sounding every inch the captain he was.

"Yeah. They've been on Bash's case from the beginning. All they've wanted to do was close the investigation. My calls go unanswered. When I go to the department, I can't get past the front door. No one will speak to me or return my calls."

Ronan could feel the desperation coming off Paul Stark. All he wanted was for someone to care as much about his son as he did. So far, that hadn't happened. "I promise you have our attention. Tell us what happened to Bash. Start from the beginning."

The detectives pulled their notebooks and pens out and gave Paul Stark their full attention.

"I met my late wife, Maya, in college at UMass. She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my life." Paul paused and took a breath. "We fell in love and got married after graduation. She wanted a baby more than words, so we started trying on our honeymoon. Three years later, we hadn't gotten pregnant. We went for testing and found that the fertility issues were mine. I'll spare you the details, but thanks to the doctor's help, Maya was pregnant three months later. The day our son was born was the happiest day we'd ever shared. Our lives were so full of promise for the future, you know?"

"I do," Ronan agreed.

"Bash was such a happy little boy. We were there with him every step of the way, from sitting in the cold for his ice hockey games to late nights studying for exams. I loved every single moment of fatherhood. It surprised us when Bash decided to go to Salem University instead of UMass like we had, but I had nothing to complain about because he would be right here in town. What could possibly go wrong so close to home?"

Ronan's heart broke for Paul Stark. He loved Everly and Ezra more than his next breath. If anything happened to them, he'd never survive. He was certain Ten felt the same way. "What happened at school?"

"Bash never met a stranger who didn't become his friend. He took that attitude to school with him. A couple guys he knew were pledging Sigma Chi, and he joined them. I was worried about hazing but kept my mouth shut. Our son had more common sense than most young men his age, and I knew he would make good decisions. Pledge week was filled with silly things like the guys having to wash the frat house floors with toothbrushes and being messenger boys at all hours of the night when the members wanted a pizza or soda or whatever. Bash was so excited for the opportunity. Maya and I were happy for him, until that last party." Stark let out a shuddering breath. "Bash was supposed to text us when he got back to his room that night. I knew there would be alcohol and maybe pot or edibles. When Bash didn't text that night, I chalked it up to him having a good time and passing out from the booze, or maybe he'd spent the night with someone, but when we still hadn't heard from him by noon the next day, I started calling and texting him. Bash never answered. He always answered us." Tears fell from Paul Stark's eyes. He didn't bother to wipe them away.

Ronan wanted to get up and hug the bereaved father but stayed in his seat and waited for Stark to continue.

"Maya and I got in the car and drove to the campus. There were cop cars everywhere on Fraternity Row with their lights on. Traffic wasn't allowed to pass. We parked and got out of the car. There were five other frat houses on that street with dozens of guys living in them, but my gut told me the flashing lights and crime scene tape were for my son. When we reached the last barricade, we could see the medical examiner's van. Seconds later, a gurney came out of the house with a black body bag on it. I grabbed the first cop I saw and asked if he knew what happened, showing him a picture of Bash. He'd looked annoyed when I first approached him, but once he saw the photograph, everything about him changed. He asked what my name was, and after I told him, he informed us that Sebastian was…" Paul Stark dissolved into tears.

Ronan didn't need Stark to speak the last word. He knew what the cop had told him. Making death notifications had always been the worst part of his job. To stand there and watch loved ones fall apart. Some howled or let out inhuman cries. Others punched walls. A few were silent, trying to process the shock. Looking around the table, Ronan could see how the others were affected by Paul Stark's story. Ten was brushing away his own tears while Jude and Fitz wore heartbroken looks. "I'm so very sorry for your loss, Mr. Stark." Ronan knew his words offered no comfort, but they were all he had.

"I hate to ask," Fitz began, "but how did the investigation go?"

Paul took a deep breath and dried his eyes. "At first, we were told that Bash died from alcohol poisoning. The cop on the scene said they could smell the booze on him from the top of the stairs. The autopsy said that he'd died from positional asphyxiation, meaning he'd suffocated to death due to the position his body was in. He lay crumpled at the bottom of the stairs for nearly twelve hours before someone found him and called the police. The coroner told me that if he'd been found sooner, he could have been saved."

"What did the ME rule as the manner of death?" Ronan asked.

"Undetermined," Stark said. "He said there was no way of knowing how or why Bash fell. He had no injuries to indicate he'd been beaten or forced down the stairs. There were no skin cells under his nails, aside from his own. There was evidence of sexual activity, but Bash was six and a half feet tall and weighed about two hundred pounds—there was no way a girl could have thrown him down the stairs."

Ronan didn't want to correct the man, but a woman could absolutely do that very thing. All it took was for Bash to be off balance for a moment, and when people were drunk, they weren't always steady on their feet. "Did the police interview the frat brothers?"

Stark nodded. "No one remembered seeing him after ten that night. One said he'd gone into his room with a girl, but no one saw him after that. Or, no one remembered seeing him after that. The detectives told me Bash's death was a tragic accident, but I didn't believe it then, and I don't believe it now. Someone killed my son. I need you to prove it." His eyes were laser focused on Ronan.

"I appreciate your faith in me, Mr. Stark," Ronan began, "but like we said earlier, we need to operate within the constructs of the Salem PD. What I can promise is to speak with the chief of police about this case." He handed Stark his phone opened to a blank contact screen. Stark added his information and gave the phone back to Ronan.

"What about you?" Stark asked Tennyson. "I read that you've assisted both the Boston and Salem Police with cases like this. Can you see my son? Is he here with me now?"

"Bash isn't here, and I haven't been able to sense him, Mr. Stark," Ten said.

"You're fucking useless too! Just like those fucking detectives." Stark stood and gathered his folder close to his chest.

"Hold on a minute," Ten said softly. Ronan was ready to punch the man's lights out, but leave it to Tennyson to hold on to his humanity and treat Paul Stark with kid gloves. "Spirits don't always cling to us everywhere we go. It could be that he's home in his childhood bedroom or at the frat house. I've also seen spirits who were shy and not apt to speak to strangers. Being dead is confusing enough without there being four strangers thrown into the mix and the fact that your temper goes from zero to sixty in record time. Bash might very well be scared of this version of yourself."

"Scared of me?" Stark asked, collapsing back into his seat. The look on his face told Ronan the thought had never crossed his mind that he could be the problem.

Ten nodded. "I know you think we've all only added to your grief, but here's what's going to happen next. If my husband says he'll speak to the chief, he will. You can count on that. Ronan has an annoying way of always getting what he wants." Ten smiled. "Either Ronan or myself will call you after that meeting and let you know how it goes. I can't promise it will be today, although with Ronan's stick-to-itiveness, anything is possible. Lastly, I'll set up a time with you later to try to reach out to Bash at your home. In the meantime, you've got some work to do yourself. Do you understand what I mean?"

Stark nodded. "I need to get my head out of my ass and control my temper. Before my son and wife died, I had no idea grief could lead to rage. I know anger is one of the stages of grief, but nowhere along the way did anyone ever mention this bone-deep rage. I'll find a way to deal with it. You have my word, Mr. Grimm. I'm sorry for losing my temper earlier."

"We're all fathers, Mr. Stark." Ten pointed around the table. "We understand where your emotion is coming from. I promise we'll be in touch as soon as we have information to pass along." Ten stood and escorted the man out of the room.

"What do you think?" Ronan asked Fitz. He knew he wanted to barrel into Cisco's office right this very second and demand that they be assigned this case. Of course, Fitzgibbon would advise caution.

"I'm not sure how much we can do," Fitz said. "It's been three years since the crime. Some of the frat members there that night could have graduated or dropped out of school, if they remember what happened that night at all. My years of police experience tell me someone knows what happened to Sebastian. I'll call Cisco now and see if he's free for a chat." Fitzgibbon stood and was halfway to the door before he turned back to Ronan. "In the meantime, you need to get your head out of your ass too."

"So that my anger doesn't get the best of me?' Ronan asked sheepishly.

"No, because you could use a breath of fresh air." Jude snickered.

Tennyson had always been the empath in their family, but today, Ronan could feel Stark's pain as if it were his own. He admired the man for fighting for his son for as long as he had, with as many doors slammed in his face as he'd encountered. Ronan was going to do everything in his power to find out what happened to Sebastian Stark, with or without Cisco Jackson's approval.