Sign of the Maker (Boston Crime Thriller Book 4) by Brian Shea (ebook reader android .txt) 📕

"My city. I know how to get places quickly."

Langston dismissed the comment and looked in the direction of the epicenter. "How many dead?"

"Two so far. Got one on the bus heading in. Looks bad, took a chunk of shrapnel in the chest."

"Conscious?"

"He was in and out. Was able to verify the names of the people in the limo to the medics but didn't say anything about the bomb itself. Patrol's got an officer riding with. He'll keep us posted if he comes to and has anything to say."

Sergeant Whitaker, District A-1's street boss who was currently managing the North End crime scene, walked up. "Hey, Mikey. Shitty seeing you."

"Likewise." A common phrase among those who worked the ugly side of humanity. When districts crossed and old academy mates met it was never under positive circumstances. "What's up?"

"Becker said to notify you if anything changed with Simpson."

"And? Is he alert enough to speak?" Kelly's eagerness came out in the rapidity of his words.

Whitaker shook his head, flinging the surplus of rain droplets from his cheeks as he dipped under the recently erected canopy. "Nope. He's dead."

"Thanks for the update."

Whitaker moved off to meet with a lieutenant who had just arrived on scene.

"We've got to assume that this is our guy. No way around it. Right? Two bombs, one day. There's no way it can't be related." Langston addressed their small group now taking shelter under one of the canopies. "Agreed?"

Everybody nodded. It was Mills who spoke next. "This morning's device hasn't left us with much in the way of any qualified leads. Wasn't enough of it to run an effective comparison yet. Hoping this scene might be different.”

"Maybe it would help if we knew exactly what we’re supposed to be looking for in all this?" Kelly was used to working homicides where shell casings and knife blades carried obvious evidentiary value. Bombs were entirely different. His experience was limited when it came to them. Even with the marathon attack under his belt, he hadn't acquired enough in the way of scene experience to feed him his normal sense of confidence.

"Each bombmaker's different. Sometimes the way they design the bomb becomes their calling card. In the late ’90s, the ATF created the national repository designed to track the criminal misuse of explosives within the United States. The US Bomb Data Center compiles information from multiple sources, to include the ATF's Arson and Explosive Information System, AEXIS. Our database works similar to the AFIS, categorizing information to create a unique identification system that can be used to pinpoint a specific maker by its signature."

"Like a fingerprint?"

"Sort of, but not quite. Whereas a fingerprint is unique to an individual, the signature assigned to a specific bombmaker can be duplicated. But if we can locate the signature of these bombs it could potentially lead us to our bombmaker."

"If he's even in the system." Langston showed no interest in the quick history lesson.

"That's definitely a possibility. New bombs and bombmakers are constantly being added to the list. With the ease of information readily available to anybody with internet access, the case load has quadrupled in recent years, making it even more difficult to isolate patterns." Mills paused for a moment as Charles and Dawes joined the group. "I was just about to tell the group why my hopes are higher on this one. Unless you'd care to enlighten them?"

Mills offered the floor to Charles. It was interesting to see the experienced agent so willing to share the spotlight, but Charles dismissed the opportunity to take it. "All yours."

"Looking at the limo, it appears the bomb was placed on the undercarriage near the rear. Most likely this is where the primary target would've been seated." Mills balled her right fist and then placed her left hand atop it. "This is a crude representation but bear with me for a moment. Imagine, if you will, my fist is the bomb and the hand on top is the car. When the bomb exploded, the bottom of the limo would've been forced up, and an equal amount of force would press down into the asphalt."

Kelly squatted, noticing the divot in the street like an oversized pothole. "How does that help us?"

Mills folded her left hand down onto her fist. "The limo’s heavy steel frame acted like a lid. Because of that, more bomb parts will hopefully be contained within a much tighter confine, enabling us a better opportunity of discovery."

"Then I think it best we get to it." Langston cleared the sweat from his moist hands on his pants. "Our friends at the CIA and NSA have been working overtime, listening for chatter, anything that would point in the direction of someone claiming responsibility. A few militant groups, anti-US groups overseas, had cheered the bombing. They offered moral support without claiming the attack. Social media's being scoured. But there's been no manifesto or call to arms."

"I'm going to say it, since nobody else has." Lexi stuffed her hands into her pockets. "Without an identified political or global agenda being offered by any group, we may be looking at something else entirely. It's something I haven't come across in a very long time and it's concerning."

"And what's that?" Langston asked.

"This could be another type of bomber, one who likes to intentionally leave their mark."

"But you said there was nothing on the morning's scene." Barnes stood close to Kelly as she spoke, her damp hand brushing against his.

"I said we didn't find anything yet. Doesn't mean we won't. There's still lots of debris scattered on that warehouse floor that could hold the key, a fragment of the bomb itself that would give us a more definitive nod in the direction of its creator. If my worry is confirmed, we may be facing a serial bomber. In those rare cases, the signature is left like a calling card."

"Just like a serial killer would?" Barnes looked over at Kelly. He saw the concern in her eyes. Less than six months ago, Kelly