Sign of the Maker (Boston Crime Thriller Book 4) Brian Shea (black authors fiction txt) 📖

Kelly read the bomber's message again. Old names remembered. Fire consumes debts unpaid. Out of the ashes we are reborn.

The phoenix imprinted on the bombs now made more sense but did little to steer them any closer to their target. It was the second part of the message that scared Kelly more than anything. 9:36. Ashes and Dust.

"What time did the bomb detonate at Exchange Place?" Kelly turned to Barnes.

"9:07. At least that's when the first 911 call came through. I think it's safe to say it went off in close proximity to that time." Barnes eyed the clock on the wall. It was a little past noon. "If this is an indication of the next bomb's detonation, the sands are rapidly emptying out of that hourglass."

Halstead walked toward them from the lieutenant's office. Langston and Salinger lagged behind, talking with Superintendent Acevedo. It had been a closed-door meeting. And once again he and Barnes hadn't been invited to the party.

"What's that all about?" Kelly leaned closer to his supervisor.

Halstead shrugged. "Not sure."

"I wasn't invited to the meeting and neither were you. So much for keeping us in the loop," Kelly hissed under his breath.

"Keep it to yourself, Mike. Everybody's under pressure on this one." Halstead shot him a warning glance.

"Did you give more thought to what we talked about on the phone?"

Halstead looked uncomfortable as the approaching entourage, led by an angry-faced Langston, closed in. The former Internal Affairs investigator turned Homicide supervisor proved months ago to Kelly that he was willing to back the men and women under his watch. He stepped up a few months back when Kelly skirted the line while hunting a serial killer responsible for the death of an undercover FBI agent. In that scenario, Halstead demonstrated his ability to shelter the people under his command from the administrative gamesmanship of the leadership above. A rare quality these days.

But sharing files of an active case went against Halstead's strait-laced style of policing. His boss’s normally placid, unreadable face bore the burden of his indecision, visible in the crease forming along his furrowed brow. "Mike, this goes against my better judgment. You know that."

Langston and Salinger were close, only ten feet away. "Greenlight me on sharing the information with Collins. I'll take the hit if nothing pans out. Hell, you can pretend you never even knew about it. Do you understand me? This breaks bad, I take it on the chin."

"Mike." Barnes grabbed him at the elbow, directing his attention to her emerald green eyes. "What are you doing?"

"I want this guy, Kris. We can't let any opportunity slip by. You saw Collins. There's something there worth peeling back. And Collins just might be our best chance of finding our guy."

"Did I hear you say Collins?" Langston strutted up and was now standing less than a foot from Kelly's face. Even in Homicide’s temperature-controlled climate, the agent's mustache still maintained its sweaty gloss. He made no attempt to wipe it off as it dripped into the cup of coffee he was sipping from. There was no trace it even bothered him. The only thing on the beady-eyed agent’s mind seemed to be the fact that Kelly had spoken with Liam Collins without his approval. "Where do you get the right going off to interview a prisoner in my investigation without my permission?"

Superintendent Acevedo added his presence to the cluster of investigators. Instead of taking center stage as he often did, he kept himself slightly distanced, giving the floor to Langston's frustration. Langston looked as though he was going to explode. Kelly watched the agent's right hand curl into a fist. Although it wouldn't be the first time in Kelly's career he'd been swung on by a brother in blue, he didn't expect it from Langston.

"Hey, I thought we're all on the same team here?" Lexi Mills walked over. She was standing closer to her federal counterparts, so Kelly wasn't sure if the question had been directed at him, Langston, or the group as a whole. Then he caught her eye. Mills gave an apologetic shrug, followed by a gentle smile. Barnes's comments made him question whether that smile held a hint of flirtation.

"This one's on me. Kelly asked, but I'm the one who got approval for the visit. So if you have a problem with it, Agent Langston, then I suggest you direct it my way." Halstead stepped forward, inserting his body between Kelly and Langston.

"Well, Sergeant, seems like you've stepped out of your boundaries." Langston boiled like a kettle.

"Listen, my detectives are about as good as they come. And if I think having them speak with somebody after your efforts failed is going to help crack this case, then I'm going to do it." Halstead’s ice-cold delivery caused Langston to take a step back.

"All right, settle down, everybody." Acevedo stepped in. "I'm going to weigh in here. Sergeant Halstead has managed his unit effectively. I have no questions about the man's integrity or his decision-making skills. If he felt that my detectives, Kelly and Barnes, were going to have some effect that might bring about a resolution to this nightmare, then you're the one who needs to get out of your own way and let my people work. Because as of right now, we haven't produced jack shit as far as a potential lead. Are you willing to let a petty rift jeopardize an opportunity of finding our doer? If 9:36 is the time of the next attack, then we've got less than ten hours before we're going to be digging through another disaster if we don't get our heads out of our collective asses."

Kelly was silent. They all were. Acevedo had broken character from the polished image he'd worked so long to perfect in his rise through the ranks as he kept his eye on the prize of becoming the first Hispanic superintendent-in-chief in the department’s long history. Even though eight percent of the BPD's cadre of two