The Penitent One (Boston Crime Thriller Book 3) Brian Shea (good book club books .txt) 📖

It was nearing 5:00 p.m., so Kelly and Barnes pulled down the street and parked behind a large box truck, keeping the engine running. Too cold to sit for an extended period of time without the heater. No music. The only sound came from the occasional rattle of his unmarked’s engine. It had a tendency to rev sporadically while in idle.

A couple weeks had passed since Kelly had gone on a date with Barnes. The last planned outing had been canceled when Embry came down with a cold. Barnes understood, but it still didn’t make it any better. Their relationship had to take a backseat to the paperwork and follow-ups of their many cases. The quality of their alone time had been diminished to these moments. They were together, but their minds were focused elsewhere.

His right hand grazed hers, meeting on the center console. Kelly squeezed her hand gently and was about to speak when his phone rang.

"It's Mainelli," Kelly said, picking it up. "What do you got, Jimmy?" He fought to conceal his annoyance at the interruption.

"We're all set. Prosecutor and judge just signed off on the arrest warrant of one Wendell Lumpkin," Mainelli said proudly.

"We're outside the shelter. Fingers crossed he comes through tonight. It's going to be a cold one. I'm hoping he doesn't decide to stay on the street. They're calling for wind chill to bring it down close to zero." Mother Nature working in their favor tonight.

"You guys need me to come out there and assist?"

Kelly heard the man's question, appreciated the offer, but knew deep down Mainelli was hoping Kelly would allow him to stay in the warm confines of headquarters. Plus, by the time he got to their location and settled into a position, it'd be close to quitting time.

"No, Jimmy, why don't you just stay put? You can assist on processing if we pick this schlub up."

"Fair enough. But don’t say I didn’t offer. And just give me a call if you need anything else, but you're good to go on the warrant."

Kelly clicked off the phone, their moment of intimacy interrupted. He thought about trying to rekindle it but began to doubt himself. He wasn’t sure Barnes had even noticed.

"How do you want this to go?" she asked.

Kelly’s heart skipped a beat. Was she talking about the future of their relationship? Did she think it was faltering? His mind raced for an answer.

“I mean, this is your case, just want to see how you want to play it if we come across this skell,” Barnes said.

Kelly exhaled slowly. Of course, she was referring to the apprehension of Lumpkin. He kicked himself for blurring lines and losing focus. It was out of character for Kelly and he didn’t like it. If his relationship with Barnes had a negative, it was the unbalance it brought to his thought process.

"Let's go soft, try to talk our way in with him, walk him into the cuffs if we can."

“Fair enough,” Barnes said.

It was a misconception by the general public that every apprehension ended in an all-out foot chase, fight, or death match. Most were innocuous and benign, even when it came to the arrest of a murder subject. Kelly preferred the simple ones. They came with a lot less explaining and a lot less paperwork. He didn’t allow the job to become personal. Arresting this murderer came with no attachments, no personal connection to the victim. It was just the business end of somebody’s bad decision. Today it was Wendell Lumpkin. Tomorrow it would be somebody else. Had Palmer been someone he knew, then Kelly’s likelihood of maintaining a soft approach would have been more difficult. Under the circumstances, it was easy to psychologically distance himself from the death of the middle-aged businessman and his drugged-out murderer.

"Well, you take the lead," Barnes said. "I'll follow."

"All right, I have something in mind."

An hour passed, but the silence in the car made it seem much longer. Kelly looked at his watch. It was just past 6:15 p.m. They’d spent the better part of the last hour watching people trickling into the shelter. It was like watching some post-apocalyptic movie as the heavily bundled vagrants staggered along.

Forty-five minutes left until the shelter would close its vacancy list, and with it, their window of opportunity. Kelly didn't want to leave it for another night. Desperate people on the run did desperate things. He wouldn't forgive himself if the killer took another victim before he had a chance to make the arrest, but deep down Kelly didn't see that as Lumpkin’s MO. His act of violence was likely due to a drug-induced state, a robbery gone bad. Regardless, Kelly couldn't allow this man to roam free another night.

Just as he was about to speak, he caught sight of somebody sauntering along the sidewalk from the opposite direction. The light from the shelter cast the brightly colored lettering of Hope's Chance in a muted yellow. The street was still bright from the snow. What little snow that had melted during the day was frozen over. Temperatures had not risen above the freezing point, and they were now sitting at a balmy twenty-three degrees.

The man walking toward the shelter wore a heavy coat and hooded sweatshirt, his face tucked down, his hands pressed deep into his pockets. He moved like a tightly wound spring, his steps short and choppy.

"Got something ahead. You see him?"

"I’ve got him," Barnes said. "Looks to be about the right size from the video. What do you think?"

"He does."

"A little far to tell for sure, but it could be our guy."

The man paused across the street from the shelter and looked around skittishly, then pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. When someone committed a major crime like a murder, they had a halo over them. Investigators called it the spotlight effect. The perps felt that anybody coming close or looking at them