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

file it in the unsolved category and shift it over to Cold Case, where it would be lost among the stacks.

But Kelly couldn't allow himself to do it. He couldn't allow himself to give in, to give up. His innate, never-quit, never-say-die attitude that flowed over from his youth wouldn’t allow it. The lessons he'd learned in Pops' gym and the streets of Dorchester were only amplified during his time with the PD. Tenacious didn’t even begin to describe the fervor with which he attacked a case. Like a pit bull, he never let go. Kelly knew the flipside to the coin could be cataclysmic to his personal life, and yet he still couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The murmur of the Homicide floor dropped to a hush. Kelly knew, without looking, that the meeting inside Sutherland's office had come to an end. He peeked around his cubicle and saw Acevedo standing with Halstead beside him. As the three men did a round-robin shake of hands, Kelly carefully watched Sutherland's facial cues. He didn't have his typical disgruntled, angry look. From the looks of things, Sutherland hadn't been admonished by the commander of the Investigative Unit.

Acevedo turned to leave while Halstead lingered behind with Sutherland. The door opened and Kelly dipped back behind his desk. A moment later, a shadow crossed his desk as Superintendent Acevedo moved into view and stood near the opening to Kelly's cubicle. He casually leaned on the divider wall, looking down at Kelly as if they were old friends.

Kelly turned in his chair but did not stand. "What can I do for you, sir?" Kelly was not one typically intimidated by rank, but respectful enough to know his place.

"That was fine work you did yesterday."

"Thank you, sir," Kelly said flatly.

"You're a hell of an investigator, Kelly. Don't let anybody tell you different."

And with that, Acevedo turned on his heel and headed out the door.

Mainelli popped back up. He was in and out of his seat today like a whack-a-mole. "Did I just hear Superintendent Acevedo give you a compliment?"

"Sun shines on a dog's ass every once in a while," Kelly said, repeating a phrase his late father had used on a daily basis.

"Guess so. Color me impressed," Mainelli said, then disappeared back into his hole.

Barnes peeked around the corner again. "Something's happening," she whispered. “Halstead and Sutherland are in there chuckling like schoolgirls."

"I hope they're not laughing at the demise of my career," Kelly offered. His attempt at levity fell somewhat short.

Barnes offered him a conciliatory smile and soft chuckle. "Well, if you go down, I go down."

Kelly hoped that phrase would evolve into something more substantial and be reflective of their relationship at some point. He tried not to overextend and project beyond the current point of his dating relationship with his partner, but at his age, relationships moved faster. He knew what he wanted and approached it with the same mindset he did everything in life. Full tilt, full speed, and all in.

Sutherland approached the squad’s cubicles and rapped his knuckles on the metal siding of one of the dividers. “Let me see you guys in The Depot, I've got something I need to talk to you about.”

The husky sergeant led the charge into the conference room. Kelly noticed his hobbled gait had dramatically improved, atypical for his boss, who usually played up the bum knee after meeting with anybody from the command staff. Strange that he would not continue his act in the face of the Internal Affairs Supervisor. But Kelly had long since given up trying to figure out Sutherland.

He picked up the case file for Wendell Lumpkin's arrest just as Sutherland turned back before taking a seat in the conference room. "No need for paperwork," he called to Kelly.

Kelly returned the file and followed Barnes and Mainelli into The Depot. Just as Kelly began to close the door behind him, Halstead appeared.

"Got room for one more?" he asked, giving Sutherland a look, some inside joke Kelly wasn’t privy to.

Kelly stepped aside, allowing the IA Sergeant to enter.

Sutherland and Halstead sat near the curved head of the oval-shaped conference table. Kelly, Mainelli, and Barnes sat staggered on one side with their backs to the door, a unified front for whatever was coming.

"I have some news. Good, bad, I don't know. Take it however you want. It's good for me," Sutherland said, his gruff nature absent. He was more jovial than he'd been recently. "I've been approved."

"Approved for what?" Mainelli said.

"For my disability rating."

"Nice," Mainelli offered. Kelly and Barnes nodded.

"So, what's that mean, Sarge?" Kelly asked.

"It means this fat bastard is going to take his early retirement and head south to Florida."

"Effective when?" Mainelli asked.

"Pretty much immediately. I got word a couple of weeks ago it was in the final approval process, and I got the official notification this morning. I'm going to be taking my leave of absence. I've got some paid time coming up."

Kelly was conflicted. Although he'd only been in Homicide for just shy of a year, Sutherland had been his supervisor, for better or worse, since he walked in the door. And he had come to understand and read the man, which was critical when dealing with any leadership. Transition always created some level of disruption.

Kelly asked the obvious. "If you're out, then who's in?"

Sutherland reached over and gave Halstead's shoulder a hardy slap. Halstead didn't seem to appreciate the whack, although he took it in stride. He leveled a serious gaze at them, something he'd become known for during his tenure in Internal Affairs. They called him Iceman because of his unreadable facial expressions and the cold, steely cobalt eyes. A man in his mid-fifties, Halstead barely had a wrinkle, a testament to the fact that he rarely, if ever, betrayed his emotions on his face.

"Most of you know me. For those of you who don’t, I'm Paul Halstead. I've been working in IA for the past eight years. I've had my hands or eyes on every controversial