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

continued. “Between all the businesses, traffic cams, and cell phones, we've got a ton of footage to go through. That's not taking into account the physical evidence. We're going to need you guys to help gather as many statements as possible from any of the potential witnesses on scene."

Kelly was about to speak when Halstead placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "We got patrol doing that. My unit will assist in any way you see fit, but I think you'd be better served by allowing them to be more involved."

"Let us do more than pull tapes and talk to bystanders,” Kelly said. “We can be an asset to you on the investigation side. We know this city. We know the people." He was angry at himself for trying to validate his experience to a man he didn't know. The thought of playing second fiddle to the FBI didn't sit right.

"Look, hotshot,” the agent said. “We're getting off on the wrong foot. You're going to help us with whatever we need, and at this point I might just decide to send you on that coffee run you mentioned."

Kelly realized he had overplayed his hand, and if he wanted to be part of this investigation and have any chance of keeping himself in the loop, he needed to bite his tongue and dial back his annoyance.

"Long morning. What do you need from us?" Kelly knew it was a weak offering, but it was the best he could come up with under the circumstances. Had Mainelli not been on his annual family vacation to Italy for the next week, he would've had a field day with this agent.

"Your captain tells me you two are a pretty excellent team. I know your units have solved some high-profile cases. We heard about the work you did in finding the guy who killed our undercover agent last year. Pretty impressive stuff. We'll keep you close and in the loop unless you become too much of a pain in my ass." Langston pointed toward a row of FBI crime scene vans. "Right now, you can meet up with the crime scene techs and see what they need as far as assisting in setting the scene. Think you can handle that?"

Cam Salinger was at least six inches taller than Langston, making him two inches taller than Kelly. He wore an up-to-date crisp blue suit with a collared shirt minus a tie and had the confident look of a quarterback. He stretched out his hand. "Look, I know how this thing goes. We're not trying to stomp around in your backyard. This is your city. I get it. A bunch of suits come in here where you think we've got no business. I grew up in Charleston, if that makes any difference. Regardless, it doesn't change the fact that this is going to be our show, and we're going to do the absolute best to keep you guys in the loop. I think that's what my partner was trying to say."

With Salinger's not-so-subtle nudge, Langston conceded. "Yeah, that's what I was trying to say." He followed suit, shaking hands with their BPD counterparts. "We're on the same team here."

"Where do we start?" Kelly asked.

"That's where I come in." A short, athletic-looking, light-skinned black woman stepped into view, wearing jeans and a blue windbreaker with “ATF” in yellow lettering. "We're going to need to find fragments of the device used. It'll be crucial in locating our bomber."

Kelly eyed the demolished storefront. "You think there's anything salvageable inside there?"

"Yes. You just have to know what you're looking for." She looked to Langston. "I'm going to get started, if you don't mind?"

"Do your thing, Lexi."

She retreated to the rear of the SUV she'd exited and donned a full Tyvek suit and booties, then slung a red duffle bag over her shoulder and headed into the scene. After signing in with one of the patrolmen managing the crime scene log, she headed directly for the gaping hole where the café's storefront once stood.

"She's got a nose for this kind of thing." Langston's gaze trailed behind her. "I don't know if you guys remember that mall bombing a few years back in Kansas?"

Kelly nodded. He remembered the story from the news coverage. The bomber left a backpack bomb outside a food court in a big mall in Kansas, injuring thirty people and killing two. Investigators initially thought the attack had been the work of an extremist group but discovered several weeks later that the bomber was a twenty-three-year-old loner stalking a girl who worked at a cookie shop in the food court. "The food court bombing."

"Everybody was spinning out of control, looking both nationally and internationally for the group responsible. Not Lexi. She followed the evidence. One of the bomb fragments she found led her to a local hardware store. Within a day, the killer was in custody. She's got a gift for finding the unfindable."

Kelly watched Mills disappear inside the café, hoping that ability would play out to their advantage here.

Acevedo finished a quiet conversation with one of his lieutenants before addressing the group. "We've already coordinated with the owner of a vacant warehouse on Boston Street. We're going to be taking it over for a while and will use the seven thousand square feet provided to recreate the debris field. We're going to need to get everything photographed, tagged, and bagged, and then transported over. No small task. We best get to work."

Kelly looked at the superintendent's polished brass and shined shoes, then at the dried blood caked to his own clothes. We best get to work. Kelly considered offering his own opinion on that subject but thought better of it.

"My detectives will get back to work and coordinate with their crime scene techs, who will work with yours. I think we can have this scene mapped and under control in a matter of hours," Acevedo offered.

“It looked like you had something you wanted to say, Detective?" Langston challenged Kelly.

Langston had