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

and then that's it. Last train to pass through Downtown Crossing arrives in a little less than twenty-five minutes."

"Then I guess we've got some time to make up."

Langston sat quietly for a moment. "We don't catch the smart ones, huh?"

"No, we don't."

"Then I think it's best we head to Braintree." Langston Googled the address. It would take twenty-six minutes to get there. "Think you can shave a couple minutes off this?"

"No choice in the matter." Kelly changed lanes and detoured to their new destination while Langston updated the rest of the team following behind.

29

Kelly accelerated down the strip, heading toward the split at the Braintree substation. Passing the commuter lawn on his left, he raced up just as the explosion blinded him, causing him to slam his brakes. The blast sent a plume of concrete and debris into the sky in front of him. As the cloud settled, he saw the devastation left in its wake. The explosion extended up from the ground level to the pedestrian footbridge connecting the station to a parking area on the other side. The impact ripped a hole in the pedestrian bridge.

Kelly felt the concussive force of the explosion inside his car. Bits of debris showered the hood, dimpling the paint like buckshot. The silence in the aftermath was eerie. He knew part of it was the shock. Just like any critical incident or high-stress event, the brain did its best to compensate, supplying some sensory needs in full while excluding others. It was like having a heightened sense of vision yet not being able to hear.

Kelly's first sense that took hold when he rushed out of the car was his smell. The bomb blast and the quick flash of fire that had accompanied it filled the air with a strange, indescribable odor. The smell of the metal, plastic, and rubber of the cars and the building that had been impacted by the explosion lingered alongside a sickening smell, one Kelly knew but despised. One that would cling to him long after this day was over.

Kelly watched in horror as the three people who'd been crossing the skybridge at the time of the attack fell twenty feet to the fiery rubble below. Barnes screeched to a halt behind Kelly's Caprice and joined him. The five sprinted from their vehicles toward the bomb blast.

The smell of burning flesh disquieted him the most. There was a disgusting uniqueness to it, and its odor overwhelmed Kelly as he powered forward, ignoring his body's automatic urge to stop. Willing the mind forward in the face of gunfire or explosions or death took a special breed of person. And Kelly continued running toward the sound of danger instead of fleeing, like the citizens around him who were in a mad dash to safety.

Kelly felt the same fear. He just fought against it.

Langston ran alongside him. The heavyset FBI man, winded but fueled by adrenaline, managed to keep up. Hopefully, they would find McLaughlin among the living. The heat intensified as they approached the source.

"Hold up!" Mills yelled from behind. "Slow down. You don't want to rush in on this."

"Why not?" Kelly wanted to ignore the advice. Everything in his being pulled him toward the bomb's blast, but he heeded the warning, knowing the experienced ATF agent understood firsthand what she was talking about.

"Could be a secondary explosive. Maybe he's drawing us in or waiting for more bodies to enter the kill zone. Approach slowly and keep your eyes open."

"He hasn't done it before."

"Just got to be ready. We also didn't expect him to plant an inert bomb to throw us off. He's changing the game. We have to be ready to change with it." The group slowed. "Nice job predicting the move."

"That was all Kelly." Langston was wheezing slightly from exertion.

Kelly took the compliment in stride, although hearing it felt good. It seemed as though the two men had buried the hatchet from the other day's blowout. "All right, Mills, you lead and guide us in. Threat or not, what do we need to do to get those people out of there?"

"Give me a second." Mills scanned their immediate surroundings and those ahead of them. All of their weapons were drawn in the event their potential doer presented himself. Based on the limited information Chaz Fazzino gave them, nobody matching the description was present, or at the very least, not visibly so.

"Clear. Moving. Make the push forward. Just do it slowly."

The group pushed on, moving in a staggered row, inching their way forward. The fire that initially accompanied the blast had subsided. What remained now was no bigger than a campfire. This bomb seemed to have been specifically designed to target the footbridge. They made their way to the rubble.

Scattered amidst the broken chunks of concrete and metal were three contorted bodies. The one closest to Kelly was face down and wore an expensive three-piece suit. The shredded fabric exposed the damage to the man who wore it. Kelly reached forward to check both his pulse and his identity. As soon as Kelly pressed his index and middle fingers against the man's neck, he turned. Kelly was surprised to see it was not McLaughlin.

"Help me," the middle-aged businessman gasped.

"We gotcha, pal. Just hang tight. Try not to move."

The businessman whimpered and sank back into the rubble.

It was quickly apparent that although the three people were severely injured, they were all still very much alive. And McLaughlin wasn't among them.

Beside the businessman lay a mother with her teenage daughter. Kelly guessed the girl to be around seventeen. She must have landed straight-legged when she fell to the ground, indicated by the compound fracture of her right shin. Her shattered tibia bone protruded through her skin and out through her jeans. Shock was taking her in and out of consciousness.

In her near-delirious state, the girl had tried to stand up. Kelly rushed forward to stop her from moving, pressing her back down into the rubble as gently as he could.