Sign of the Maker (Boston Crime Thriller Book 4) by Brian Shea (novel books to read TXT) 📗

thousand officers were of Hispanic descent, none had managed to climb to the top rung.

"Are we in agreement here? My people are bending over backward to accommodate you and your agents. Look around this room right now. Boston Homicide is working overtime around the clock. Each and every person here wants to be. And if I see they're getting in your way, I'll be the first to address it." Acevedo laid that last comment squarely at Kelly's feet. "But as of right now, I'm giving them the leeway they need to hunt this killer down and stop him before the next bomb. Are we in agreement moving forward?"

Langston took another step back, this time taking a second to wipe the sweat from his mustache, transferring it from his lip, to his hand, and finally down to the side of his trousers. He released his balled fist as some of the hostility left his face. "Sure. Why not? We didn't get anywhere with him last night. He went tight-lipped on us, told us to go screw. Can’t see it hurting if your guys, for whatever reason, are going to have a chance of squeezing something out of Collins. I'm in agreement with Kelly that this guy might be the best chance of us figuring out who our bomber is. The killer's using his signature on the bombs. He's got to know something." Langston paused and directed his words to Kelly. "What I don't like is people going behind my back."

"Then keep us in the loop," Barnes fired back.

"Fine. Let's get to a resolution on this here and now." Acevedo was now back in character. "Halstead brought me up to speed on your request. Kelly and Barnes have the approval to disclose case information to Collins. Langston, you'll do a better job of keeping my investigators in the loop. And we'll do the same. Agreed?"

A universal nod of the clustered investigators indicated the message's receipt.

"Collins is willing to communicate with Kelly under two conditions,” Halstead said. “First, he gets access to the information that we have. The second stipulation is more difficult. Mr. Collins recently found himself in solitary confinement. He doesn't like the conditions and has formally requested to be returned to gen pop."

"Seems like a phone call to the warden would solve that," Acevedo offered.

"The problem isn't in the ability to get him out of solitary. We could do that easily enough. We need to hold him there and stall. I don't want him having the ability to share any case facts with the other inmates. That would be disastrous."

"Then it's decided. Kelly and Barnes will head back to the supermax to meet with Collins. If and when you deem it necessary to return Collins to general population, let me know and I'll do my best to facilitate that." Acevedo was already making his way toward the exit.

After he left, Halstead addressed the group. "Mike, make this guy earn everything he shares. We still don't know his angle."

"Maybe he just wants to help," Salinger said.

"I think it might be more than that." Mills inserted herself into the conversation. The petite ATF agent's calm demeanor and soft voice not only served as a contradiction to the tension, it also spoke to her professionalism.

"How so?" Kelly asked.

"Bombmakers are like artists. They see what they create, even the destructive force of it, as a thing of beauty."

Some masterpiece, Kelly thought. Painting the streets of Boston with people's blood and brain matter didn't register with any artist palette he envisioned.

"And with that in mind," Mills continued, "bombers like this take great pride in their work. Right now, somebody's out there using Collins's signature, claiming the work for himself. That can't sit well with him. In the world of murder, the work of copycats is seen as plagiarism. There's also the high probability Collins sees it as something deeper than that. Bombers, like arsonists, are connected to those materials, to the things that they use to injure and kill others. He probably has a sick fascination with the result of the attacks that goes way beyond morbid curiosity."

"Well, whatever the reason, he's willing to talk to you. So I suggest you get going," Langston said. Kelly realized Langston's sudden reversal may have been because he wanted to get Kelly out of the way for a little bit.

"It looks like you have your green light, Kelly." Halstead looked toward the Depot, Homicide's conference room. The table was covered in files and boxes while a flurry of detectives swirled about. "Take copies of what you need and make good use of it."

"Will do." Kelly nodded and headed toward the Depot with Barnes beside him.

Mills pulled up behind them. "Mind if I tag along?"

17

Kelly fired up the Caprice. In the world of law enforcement, it was almost a new vehicle, even though the four-door sedan had close to sixty-five thousand miles. But compared to the last piece of junk he’d driven that operated more by a wing and a prayer than by rod and piston, the Caprice was a Rolls Royce. Kelly waited while Barnes and Mills jockeyed awkwardly for the front passenger seat, each offering it politely to the other in a chivalrous verbal ping-pong match.

Kelly wanted to avoid the potential fallout in his personal life should Barnes end up in the back seat. Her jealousy may have been playful banter, but as a seasoned investigator Kelly knew every joke and lie held some fraction of truth. So he needed to tread lightly.

"Let's get a move on. I want to take some time on the ride over to thumb through the files before we go back at him anyway." Kelly exited the driver's seat and slipped into the back before either woman could protest.

Kelly, the largest of the three, now sat in the back seat of his own Caprice with Barnes at the wheel and Lexi Mills in the front passenger seat. He tucked his knees up slightly and sat between both seats on the middle