5

Ronan

Two hours later, Ronan was still stunned that Cisco had assigned them the Stark case and that Cisco had paid for lunch. If he'd known that going in, he would have ordered two steak-and-cheese subs instead of one.

Alone in the office, with Fitz and Jude running an errand, Ronan looked forward to spending time alone with the file. He'd have a chance to read the reports and look over the photographs before his partners were back in the office. Ten had an afternoon reading and would be up to help out when he was finished working.

His stomach roiling, Ronan studied the boxes sitting on the table in the cold case office. In all the years he'd been investigating homicides, he'd never once felt nervous starting a new case until today. Usually, the team chose a case to work and dug into it before they met the victim's family, but the Stark case started with meeting the boy's still-grieving father. Ronan could honestly say that he wouldn't have fought as hard to work this case if he hadn't cried with Paul Stark today.

Starting with the crime scene photos, Ronan laid them out on the large conference table. The first few images were of the frat house. There were several metal beer kegs, along with dozens of discarded red Solo cups. The trash can overflowed with more cups and stacked pizza boxes. The next few photos were of the doorway leading to the basement stairs. It was located down a narrow hallway going from the living room into the kitchen. There wasn't a light on in the space, which would have made it harder to have spotted Sebastian and his potential killer. One item on the door caught and held Ronan's attention. An open padlock hung from a slide lock's anchor point on the door. He jotted notes about how often the door was kept locked and who had keys to lock or unlock it.

The next few photographs were shots of the staircase leading to the basement. The stairs weren't steep and didn't appear to be rickety or warped. The same went for the railing, which was intact. At the bottom of the staircase was the crumpled body of Sebastian Stark. Ronan set out the pictures of the body. Bash lay face down on the concrete floor with his hands out in front of him. His shoulders and chest also rested against the floor, while his hips and torso lay at an angle on the first two steps. His legs were bent at the knees and were splayed out on the higher stairs. Ronan could see how the boy suffocated with the rest of his body weight bearing down on his chest.

The next photos were close-ups of Sebastian's arms. From what Ronan could see with the naked eye, neither wrist appeared to be broken, and he couldn't see any bruises, either from restraints or from breaking his fall. After having spent twelve hours in that position, there should have at least been signs of lividity, with Sebastian's blood pooling and discoloring his skin.

Moving on to the police report, Ronan found himself getting angry. The notes said Bash most likely died as the result of a drunken fall down the stairs. There were a few witness interviews that all stated none of the frat brothers saw Bash fall. The interviews only listed first names, and there were no phone numbers collected. In Ronan's opinion, the police assumed the death wasn't caused by foul play without bothering to prove or disprove that point with actual evidence.

Grabbing the autopsy, Ronan saw that it was performed nearly forty-eight hours after Bash's remains had been brought in. By the time the ME listed the possibility of foul play being a contributing factor in his death, the crime scene had been cleaned up, and all of the frat brothers responded to follow-up questions in the same manner and, in some cases, with the exact language others had used. Obviously, the frat president or someone high up in the university had gotten to the boys and told them what to say if the police came around again.

Absolutely disgusted by what he saw, Ronan moved on to the autopsy photos. There were only a few in the file. There were shots of Bash's face, his hands, and chest, which was one large blackish bruise from where the blood had settled after he'd stopped breathing. There were no pictures of his back or of his legs.

"Fuck me with a chainsaw," Ronan said, letting his frustration out.

"That's no way to greet your husband," Ten said from the doorway.

Ronan turned around to see Ten walking toward the table. "Hey, sorry about that. This case is one giant question mark. There are barely any autopsy photographs and almost no contact information for the witnesses at the party that night. No wonder Jimenez and Watts got nowhere with this case. They didn't do any investigative work at all. I hope Cisco fires their lazy fucking asses."

"Whose lazy fucking ass are we talking about?" Jude asked with a grin.

"Not yours," Ronan said and quickly explained what he'd learned so far. "We're going to have to start this investigation from scratch without the benefit of the crime scene."

"That's not necessarily true," Ten said.

"Have you spoken with Bash Stark?" Jude asked.

Ten shook his head. "I was thinking about the large file folder Paul Stark brought with him this morning. It looked stuffed to the brim with documents. I'm betting there's a lot of information in there that would come in handy, especially if he's been running his own investigation for the last few years."

"I agree, Ten." Fitz took the chair next to Ronan and started leafing through the documents he'd discarded.

"The autopsy was half-assed, just like we thought it would be." Fitz shook his head. "There's barely anything here. What an absolute clusterfuck. No wonder the other detectives didn't put any work in on this case," Fitz said, echoing Ronan's earlier comment. "Ronan, call Paul Stark. Let him know we're on the case and want to meet with him tomorrow morning to take a formal statement from him about the night his son died. Tell him we'd also like to see any evidence he's collected over the last few years. If he's got the names and contact information for the frat members that were at the party the night Bash died, it might save us a subpoena or two along the way." Fitz grabbed the rest of the papers sitting in front of Ronan and flipped through them. "There's no phone records here either. Let's hope Paul has them. I want to see Bash's text history with his frat brothers, as well as what he might have told his parents or his friends. Lastly, I want to know who the girl was that had sexual relations with him that night."

"You got it." Ronan grabbed his phone and stepped into Fitzgibbon's private office to place the call. Paul Stark answered on the first ring.

"Detective O'Mara, I hope you're calling with good news for me." Stark sounded hopeful.

"I am. We were able to get Bash's case assigned to us. If you're available, we'd like to come see you tomorrow. There's a lot we have to talk about, including what's in the folder you brought with you this morning."

"It's every bit of evidence I've managed to gather from the night Bash died. I looked into his frat brothers, the chapter itself. I've got phone records and text messages. You name it, I've got it."

"Do you happen to have Bash's phone?" Ronan asked, crossing his fingers.

"I do. Maya and I agreed to pay for it if he kept his grades up, but I kept paying the bill even after he died. I call Sebastian's voicemail just to hear the sound of his voice."

"That's going to be very helpful to us, in terms of being able to see your son's text history. Usually, when we get a dump of phone records, the texts are all jumbled, and we have to try to put them in order, but with his phone, we'll be able to see the actual conversations he had with people."

"I'll have it for you tomorrow, along with copies of everything else. I told you I was willing to do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of my son's death. Whoever killed my son is also responsible for Maya's death."

Stark's words caught Ronan off guard. "I thought Maya died from cancer."

"She did. Her lung cancer was diagnosed after Bash died. Maya didn't put up much of a fight. She saw death as a relief because she would be reunited with our son and wouldn't have to live with the crushing grief of losing him. She got her wish, and all I was left with was a house full of ghosts and empty memories. The only thing that keeps me going now is the idea of finding some justice for my son and peace for myself."

Ronan didn't want to say the words out loud, but it was possible Stark would end up with neither. "We're doing what we can on our end as well. My colleagues and I have the complete police record, and we're going through it as we speak."

"Is there any way I can get a look at it?" Paul asked. "I'd like to see for myself what the cops have or have not been doing over the years."

"I'll be more than happy to let you see the file once we've exhausted all investigative avenues. There are some questions I have for you related to what's in there, and I don't want to prejudice your answers in any way. We're only going to have one shot to get answers, Paul, and I refuse to fail Bash."

"I can't tell you how good it makes me feel to hear you say that, Detective O'Mara. After three years, I finally feel like we're going to get somewhere with this investigation, and I can't thank you and your team enough for looking into my son's death, even if it turns out Bash fell accidentally."

"How does ten tomorrow morning work for you?" Ronan asked.

"I'll be here. 22 West Hanover Street. It's a big green house. You can't miss it." Excitement tinged Stark's voice.

"One last thing, Mr. Stark." Ronan knew there was one more thing they'd need that Paul Stark would be able to provide.

"Anything, just name it."

"Grab a few things that belonged to your son. Treasured things, like his hockey stick or a piece of jewelry he always wore. Something he had strong ties to in life." Ronan knew Ten was often able to connect with objects belonging to the deceased.

"Is that for Tennyson's work?"

"It is. We'll explain everything in the morning. In the meantime, talk to your son's spirit. Tell him what's going on and who we are. Any information Bash can give us is crucial."

"The words of a ghost aren't admissible in court, are they?" Stark asked.

"No, they're not, but if I know exactly how Bash died and can walk the killer through it step by step, they're more likely to confess to what they think we already know. Ten and I have tried this tactic in the past, and it usually works."

"Good to know, Detective O'Mara. I feel like I'll actually be able to sleep tonight. Thank you, and thank your team for me as well."

"You got it," Ronan said and hung up the phone. He hoped Ten could provide some measure of comfort to the grieving father. Ronan opened Fitzgibbon's door and walked back toward the table, where Fitzgibbon sat with a frown on his face as he paged through documents. "We're all set for tomorrow morning. I also asked Stark for—"

Shouting from West Side Magick downstairs stopped Ronan in his tracks. Fear set his heart pounding. He moved toward the wall safe and pulled out his gun and holster. Fitz and Jude were right behind him. "Stay here," Ronan ordered Ten, who looked scared.

Easing his way down the stairs, Ronan could hear several raised voices talking at the same time. He couldn't make out who they belonged to or the words flying back and forth. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Ronan slowly peeked around the corner. He saw Carson and Cole facing two strangers, an older man and a woman, who was probably in her late thirties but dressed like she was a hippy with a flowing dress and a flower in her hair. Ronan didn't recognize either of them. From what he could see, neither of them had a weapon. "Is everything all right, Carson?" He exited the stairwell and headed for his friends. His gun was still in his hand but was pointing at the floor.

"Yeah, we're fine," Carson said, sounding more annoyed than scared. "We're just taking out the trash."

"Trash?" Ronan asked, not understanding what was happening.

Carson sighed and ran a hand through his blond hair. "Detective Ronan O'Mara, this is Destiny Beckham and my father, Cornealius Craig."

"Your father ?" Ronan asked, his fear turning to shock. He took a closer look at the older man and his lived-in face. His hair was mostly silver, but a few golden strands ran through it. Corny had the same blue eyes as his sons and was an inch or two taller than Carson and Cole.

"You called the cops on me?" Corny shouted. He grabbed Destiny and manhandled her toward the door. "You crusty fucking asshole!"

"Corny, stop!" Carson called back, sounding more annoyed than angry. "Ronan is a member of Salem's cold case team. He investigates unsolved murders. He isn't here to arrest you."

"I absolutely will if you don't take your hands off your friend." Ronan slid the gun into the holster. He watched as Corny dropped his hands.

"I'm not his friend. I'm his wife , you pig!" Destiny spat back. She plumped her hair and continued to look at Ronan as if he were a cockroach.

Several shoppers who were browsing in the store headed for the front door. "Cole, take them to the conference room." Turning back to the fleeing customers, Carson offered a warm smile. "Family reunions are so much fun. Is there anything I can help you find at a ten percent discount?"

Ronan stood back while Cole ushered Corny and Destiny away as fast as possible.

"What the hell's going on?" Ten asked from behind Ronan.

"I'm not entirely sure," Ronan said, "but one thing's for certain. Carson and Cole's visions just came true."