The Penitent One (Boston Crime Thriller Book 3), Brian Shea [best non fiction books of all time .TXT] 📗

the seam of the wood, an opening at the joint. It was hollowed out. I pried it open and found something extremely interesting."

"Please tell me you're not going to make us guess," Halstead said.

"I know who our guy is." Everyone was silent, as if the air in the room had been sucked out.

Kelly sat forward, listening intently. "How'd you figure that out? We're still waiting on the DNA. Did you get a print?"

"Better. I got his ID. Well, it wasn't an ID per se. It was a newspaper clipping from some thirty years ago."

"A newspaper clipping?"

"In it, there was an article about a boy who'd been tortured and abused by his religious zealot parents. A boy who, at the age of thirteen, had set his house ablaze, killing both mom and dad."

Kelly edged forward, as if he could see whatever Charles was looking at.

"The boy's name was Christopher Vance."

"Do you have the address of the fire, where it took place, the house?"

"I just texted it to you." Kelly saw the alert, an icon indicating the message had been received.

"Amazing job, Charles," Halstead said.

"We owe you, buddy."

"I'll take my payment in the form of a Dunkin’ cup of Joe," the technician said with a dry, raspy laugh before clicking off.

Kelly looked around the table, Gray's eyes catching his attention. He looked like he had just opened the biggest present under the tree on Christmas morning. He had a gleeful expression unlike any Kelly had seen since they'd met back in November. Kelly knew why. Gray finally had The Penitent One’s name. He’d now be known as the agent who got further than anyone in fifteen years.

Gray almost leapt out of his seat and ran toward the cubicle station he’d turned into his temporary office space. He began typing away furiously at the computer keyboard.

Kelly followed but didn't interrupt. He could see that the FBI agent was totally focused on the task at hand, most likely looking up information on the name just provided by Charles. A few minutes later, he pushed himself back in the roller chair and around to Kelly's cubicle as the printer began to whir.

"I think you're going to like what I just put together."

"Can't wait," Kelly said.

A second later, Kelly held a single-page printout with the name and date of birth for one Christopher Vance. The Clint Vesper name used to purchase the Agawam house now made more sense. He had given a false name but used the same initials, probably out of some comfort or another one of his quirks. Apparently, Christopher Vance had many quirks and a penchant for violence.

"Not much, though, huh? Name and date of birth. I'm not seeing a driver's license or anything."

"I know. I've run it. It's not coming up.”

“Then why is this sheet of paper interesting? It just looks like another dead end,” Kelly said, almost crunching the paper in frustration.

“See that Y next to DD214?”

Kelly looked down at the paper again, then nodded.

“That’s the military’s discharge paperwork. I ran him through the military records database and found something. I've just got to place a call or two to get a little more information. But it looks like our guy has a military service record. And with that, there'll be a DA photo if I can track it down."

Gray picked up his cell phone, scrolled through his contacts, and placed the call.

"It's Sterling. I know, long time. Need that favor now. I've got a name and date of birth. I need everything you have on this person, and a photo would be helpful." Gray then relayed the information he had and hung up.

Kelly only heard one side of the conversation but could pick it apart enough to know Gray had just reached out to a source, most likely someone within the Department of Defense.

"You seem to know a lot about the military," Kelly said. "I mean, the inner workings of it."

"Well, that's because I spent eight years in it."

Kelly nodded, impressed on two fronts. One, because he served, and two, that he'd never felt the need to mention it until asked.

"Army?" Kelly asked.

"No, Air Force. Pararescue."

"That's like Special Forces stuff, right?" Kelly was reminded of a Discovery Channel video he had seen during one of his late-night insomnia-induced TV binges.

"It is."

"And the contact you reached out to?"

"A friend. Somebody who owes me, somebody who has the ability to get us what we need. Our Mr. Vance has a military record. But everything I've tried to pull up in the database has been redacted. Typically, that’s done with either top secret or special operations. Either way, it would explain why he's been so effective at eluding us."

"And it further proves," Kelly offered, "your BAU guys were spot-on. The top of their analysis said ex-military/police." Kelly breathed a silent sigh of relief that the latter wasn't true. He'd already dealt with an undercover gone rogue and didn't have the stomach for dealing with another. Not that him being ex-military made it any better.

Gray's phone rang a minute later. The conversation was brief, less than ten seconds. All Gray said was, "I'll send you a fax number."

A few more minutes passed and the copier/fax machine whirred to life again. This time it printed several pages, the top one a black-and-white eight-by-ten of a young man in military uniform wearing wire-rimmed glasses.

Kelly picked it up, the paper still warm. He and Gray looked at the image and then at each other.

"I've waited a long time to see that face," Gray said. "And now we're going to put him behind bars."

"I like the sound of that," Kelly said. "Knowing who he is, knowing what he looks like is great, but we still don't know where he is.”

“One thing for certain, he's not going to go to a hospital. But we know he's injured. Barnes was confident she hit him. And the blood spatter recovered on the wall of the fireplace was most likely his. But again, DNA confirmation isn’t going to help us with the