Sign of the Maker (Boston Crime Thriller Book 4), Brian Shea [free reads .txt] 📗

"Yes. They leave their mark as a way of telling the world of their accomplishment. Think of famed killers of the past. The symbols they leave behind instill fear on a mass scale, effectively allowing them to victimize a larger population."

Serial bomber? Kelly tried to remember the last time he'd heard that term. The Unabomber, Ted Kaczynski, was the first name that came to mind. The reclusive genius turned bombmaker terrorized the nation for nearly twenty years before capture.

"Let's save our conjecture for later. Right now, we've got a scene facing a washout, and I, for one, don't feel like seeing our chance of solving this thing literally get washed down the drain." Langston slapped a set of latex gloves over his beefy hands. He cursed as he tore the glove tip on his left and had to fish out another.

Salinger felt the need to add balance to his gruff partner's comment. "Our technicians should be here shortly, but your team has been fantastic so far. Ray, if you want to get started, we’ll assist."

"Thought you'd never ask." Charles and Dawes retreated through the rain to their van and grabbed their gear bags, returning a moment later to begin the process of working the scene.

Charles took the lead, snapping several overall photos as he worked his way back to the group. "I'm going to take us closer. Fan out, but follow behind me. I'm going to photo our walk-through. If anybody finds something, make a note of it. This is just going to be our initial pass. We'll come back through again to collect evidence."

"Communicate if you see something of value." Langston's voice elevated to compensate for the rain pelting the canopy.

Kelly, Barnes, and the three federal agents formed a loose line, staggering themselves at arm’s-length intervals. They pushed forward to the destroyed limousine while keeping a few feet of distance behind Charles and his Nikon.

It was only a few minutes into their procession when Dawes called out, "Hold up. I think I've got something." His voice cracked. The junior technician was noticeably tentative around the feds. "Ray, I need your camera over here."

Charles turned and walked toward the man a few feet away, snapping photos as he got closer. He hunched over the item on the ground ten feet from the mangled limo, hovering just inches above it. Rain pelted the back of his Tyvek overalls. "Mills, you might want to take a look at this."

The rest of the group closed in, forming a tight huddle. The strobe effect of the surrounding cruisers’ emergency lights multiplied by the falling rain made seeing the object on the ground difficult. Kelly squatted and pulled a flashlight from his back pocket, illuminating the ground. Charles snapped several more photos in the light cast by the flashlight. Dawes's discovery was now clearly visible. It wasn't the skull fragment itself that warranted the young tech’s excitement. It was the metal shard sticking out of it.

"Is it what I think it is? Is it part of the bomb or a piece of the stamp metal from the limo?" Kelly asked. The rectangular piece of metal was similar to the iconic symbol of the Firebird found on the hood of Pontiac's 1970s classic Trans Am.

"Is that a phoenix?" Barnes questioned softly. "What does that mean?"

Mills took out her cell phone and snapped a few photos of her own. "I don't know what the symbol itself means. But I can say that piece of metal is definitely not part of the car. And if it's part of the bomb, which it most likely is, I think we found what we're looking for. I think we're looking at the sign of the maker."

10

Kelly wanted to shower again. He could smell the fire on his clothes. It wasn't as bad as the blood from earlier but knowing that the charred remains of the two limousine occupants were also carried in that scent made it all the more unwelcoming. His stink merged with that of Barnes and Charles as he leaned over the senior crime scene technician's shoulder while he searched the AEXIS database for a link to the marking they had found on the bomb's device.

"It's a pretty comprehensive database. It could take me a bit of time here." Charles rattled his empty coffee mug against the desk.

Kelly got the message. He looked at his watch. It was now close to 1:00 a.m. He'd tried to get hold of Embry to let her know he was okay, but he'd gotten his ex-wife instead. She sounded relieved too and said she would relay the message. Tension between them was at a lull. The developing relationship with Barnes had lifted a tremendous weight. With his mom better and Embry at her mother's house, Kelly had nothing to get home to, so he wanted to stick around to see what Charles could put together. Sleep would have to wait. Cases like this didn't cross paths with law enforcement often, and when they did, it was an all-out sprint to the finish, regardless of the distance needed to be covered. So far, they had two major crime scenes in less than twenty-four hours. And zero potentials on their suspect list.

"Need a cup?" Kelly asked.

Without looking up from the screen and continuing to hammer away on the keyboard, Charles snarked, "Quite the detective. I thought you'd never ask."

Kelly nodded at Barnes, who followed him out of the second-floor crime lab, a state-of-the-art forensic laboratory housed in Boston PD's complex located at 1 Schroeder Plaza in the heart of downtown Boston. "Want to come?"

Barnes moved at a fraction of her normal pace. Some of the life taken earlier this morning from her eyes had been restored, but she needed rest. Hours felt like days since the case literally exploded in their faces. Fatigue set in.

"Let me stop by the office and grab the keys."

"Why don't we walk?" she said. "The night air might do us some