The Penitent One (Boston Crime Thriller Book 3) by Brian Shea (most read books in the world of all time .txt) 📗

a priest? In a church, at that? I mean, do we have any history with this priest? Any open investigations about impropriety involving Tomlin? I know Boston has got a long history as far as clergymen go."

Acevedo sighed audibly, his breath striking the microphone’s foam padding and making a hissing sound as he narrowed his eyes at the man. "Like I said, we are not getting into a motive or potential motive, the method in which the crime was committed, or any other factors that may hamper or hinder the investigation, as it is a current and ongoing one. What I will reaffirm to everyone here in this room and who may be watching at home on TV right now is this: the Boston Police Department’s finest are on the case. They are working hand-in-hand with the FBI. And we will bring about a resolution."

Acevedo shot a glance toward Sterling Gray, giving him a half-smile and nod before turning back to the cameras.

"Everything at our disposal will be put forth to bringing to justice the people or person responsible for this heinous crime. Thank you very much for your time. There'll be another briefing tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m. Lieutenant Rosario will be handling that one. Hopefully, less than twelve hours from now, we’ll have more information to give you.

"As of right now, I say to those of you watching, if you have any information that can help, please don’t hesitate to contact our department. Thank you for your understanding. Good night."

A roar came from the crowd as other reporters leaned forward, trying to have their voices heard before the termination of the briefing. Hands were raised and questions were hurled as the superintendent and lieutenant moved off stage and out the side door, marked Authorized Personnel Only.

Colleen Maxwell gave Kelly a smile. Her green eyes flickered. He couldn't tell if she was taunting him or trying to be genuine. Either way, he didn't like it and offered nothing in return.

He turned and walked away, following his team, this time with Sterling Gray at the lead. There was a lot of work to be done, especially if the department planned to give another press conference twelve hours from now. It looked like sleep would not be coming tonight.

"Well, that went famously," Barnes whispered as they moved into the hallway.

"Yeah, right?" Kelly said. "I mean, every Tom, Dick, and Harry is going to be calling in what they now think they know. Our workload has just tripled, so whoever leaked the fact about it being a single gunshot wound screwed us. We have our work cut out for us now. We’ve got to get ahead of it."

"At least they didn't mention the round and casing were missing from the scene."

Kelly raised his eyebrows. "Exactly. Whoever tipped off Maxwell, either they didn't have that information or knew it would’ve been too obvious a tip-off from whoever was feeding the beast. The pressure's definitely on now. Do you feel it?"

"I guess nobody’s going home early tonight, huh, Mike?" Mainelli grumbled.

"Might as well fire up a fresh pot of coffee."

The four detectives plus their newest addition, Special Agent Gray, waited for the elevator to take them up to the second floor and back into The Depot.

7

Kelly poured a cup of coffee from the pot, the deep stains penetrating the percolator’s steel walls from years of use adding a flavoring all its own. The aromatic scents infused the surrounding air. Kelly had read somewhere that the smell of coffee was therapeutic and activated the brain in similar ways to the caffeine contained within. Science aside, he loved the smell and held the mug close to his face before taking his first sip of the morning.

The kitchen was cold. His mother kept the heat set low, claiming she “ran hot.” Kelly knew her sensitivity had more to do with cost than comfort. It was as though his mother had a built-in thermostat in her head. When he was a child, she seemed to always know if Kelly made even the most subtle adjustment to it.

Ma Kelly was as tough as they came, and Kelly had been raised under her roof and accepted her way. But now, at 5:30 in the morning, he was grateful for the warm mug in his hand that was hard at work chipping away at the cold surrounding him. The steam licked at his face as he took his first sip, the hot liquid working its way down his throat and warming him from the inside. The caffeine tore the cobwebs from his mind, the fog of exhaustion lifting with each gulp.

Kelly closed his eyes around 2:00 a.m. and managed less than three hours of restless sleep before he was back up.

He'd showered before hitting the sack, which didn't help him sleep any better, but he was tired enough that it didn't much matter. He always liked to wash himself, especially after a day like yesterday. Having spent time in his childhood church under such tragic circumstances didn't give his mind any peace as he tried to settle in for some sleep. The focus of the murder investigation would be his fuel as he revved up for the coming day's events. He had already accepted that sleep would come in spurts, and usually not long ones.

He was grateful for this quiet moment, alone with his thoughts. Kelly had peeked in on Embry, who was sound asleep, before coming downstairs. It was his morning to take her to school, rounding out his weekend with her. The call-in and subsequent murder investigation threw a kink in his plans, and he would need his mother to fill in as chauffeur again. Now that her broken hip was healed enough, she could drive short distances without too much discomfort and was better able to assist in matters like this, but she still had a long road of recovery. She had even begun working more hours at the package store, though she really didn't need to