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

these atrocities." Kelly mirrored Mills's statement in the car about bombmakers considering themselves artists. Maybe Collins’s twisted mind wanted to see the file so he could revel in the carnage. Kelly worked to bend the will of the hardened criminal.

"Mind if I take a look?"

Kelly was relieved but didn't show it outwardly. He held onto the file a split second longer than necessary before yielding to Collins's demand and sliding it forward. Giving a criminal access to an ongoing investigation felt intrinsically wrong. So did exposing the victims killed in this blast to a person who took pride in harming others, but if sharing the information led them in the right direction and stopped this maniac before his next attack, it was the right thing to do.

But Collins didn't open the file right away. Instead, he turned his attention to Mills. "Where are my manners? Who do we have with us here today?" He punctuated the banter with a playful wink.

Lexi Mills was attractive. The thirty-four-year-old federal agent didn't have a wrinkle on her smooth, light-mahogany complexion. If Kelly hadn't learned her timeline during the car ride, he would've guessed the ten-year veteran of the Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms to be somewhere in the range of twenty-six. The sight of Mills seemed to please Collins, a man who'd spent the better part of the last few months in solitary confinement.

Mills didn't react to the inmate's overt flirtations. She remained poised and professional. "Mr. Collins, my name is Lexi Mills. I'm an agent with the Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. I've worked numerous bomb cases during my time with the agency. I'm here to make sure what you say isn't complete and total crap and a waste of everybody's time."

"What makes you think you're a so-called expert? You go off to a couple fancy training schools where they teach you how to make and dismantle bombs?"

"I have been to those schools."

Collins pressed the orange jumpsuit against the table as he locked eyes with Mills. He raised his right hand, maxing the length of chain so that it hovered just beneath his chin. Collins wiggled his missing digits in a taunting manner. "What you learn in school and what takes place in the real world are two very different things. Wouldn't you agree, Agent Mills?"

"I do. And I have." Lexi answered his fingerless taunt with a tap of her shin. The metallic thud of her prosthesis broke the deadlock, and Collins shifted in his seat and looked under the table. Mills raised her pant leg.

Collins’s lips curled into a smile. "Interesting. You've been baptized."

Strange phrasing, Kelly thought. Collins must've read the confusion on his face.

"Seems like your friends here don't know what I'm talking about." Collins fanned his hand in the direction of Kelly and Barnes. "Care to explain it to them?"

Mills remained silent.

"Is it hard to talk about? Don't worry, I will fill them in." Collins cracked his swollen knuckles. "You're connected to it now. The bomb is now a part of you. It's a beautiful thing, really. You've tasted it. You've smelled it. You wear it on your skin. The bomb, and by default the bombmaker, are now permanently bonded to you. You owe your rebirth to him."

"I owe him nothing."

"Say what you want, but I know the truth." And like that, Collins relaxed completely.

"Mr. Collins, what can you tell us about our current situation?" Mills asked, redirecting the inmate back to the purpose of their visit.

"Why don't you give me a few minutes to review the file."

The trio remained quiet while Collins opened the file and ravenously devoured its contents. Kelly could see Collins wasn't reading the reports word for word. He was skimming them and seemed to be looking for something in particular. Collins spent some time with the pictures, picking each one up and holding it close to his face before moving on to the next. Lastly, he came to the list of victims from the three attacks.

Collins closed the file and placed the list on top before looking up at the investigators. The playful look he'd given Mills had disappeared, now replaced by a far more serious one. "I'm ready to help, but mind you, you're probably not going to believe what I have to say."

Kelly met his gaze with matched intensity. "Try me."

19

"I know who your bomber's next target will be. Well, it's more of a fifty-fifty guess. But I think you'll find my rationale compelling."

The investigators hung on Collins’s words, all waiting in silence for the unasked "who?" etched across their faces.

"Caleb McLaughlin."

"The guy who just announced his candidacy for mayor?" Kelly was taken aback.

"One and the same."

"How do you know he's the target? What's the link to the people on that list?"

"I think you're going to find that the rising star of the Boston political scene has a little more to him than his squeaky image lets on. Six know the truth of your mayoral candidate. Although that number's dwindled to three over the last day and a half."

"Six who knew what?"

Collins turned the list in their direction. "It's old history that's been rewritten over the last twenty-three years."

"Old history? Does it have to do with the campaign?"

"I wish it were that simple. Easier pill to swallow." Collins’s eyes were distant. "But it's not. That's because this is an Irish story. Would you like to hear it?"

The three bobbed their heads but didn't interrupt.

"This story goes back many years—hundreds, in fact, but as it relates to your current situation, I'll take you to 1997. It was during the long, drawn-out attempt to reach a peace agreement between English Parliament and IRA that several members of the fractured Irish Republican Army broke off to form another, more militant faction. Peace is an idea that comes at a price most aren't willing to pay.

“A group of six, with a die-hard commitment to the cause of removing English rule from Irish land, decided to continue their resistance. These soldiers saw a potentially unexplored weapon in their