The Penitent One (Boston Crime Thriller Book 3) by Brian Shea (ereader manga TXT) 📕

to contain it as best we can. But as for me, I'm going to wait for my team to get here, and then we're going to walk through the scene by the numbers. We're very methodical in how we approach something like this. We don't do anything quickly. So Mass is going to be canceled for the day. We will be holding your church hostage for about a day until we get the scene processed, depending on what we find when we get inside. Do you have somebody you need to call, one of the higher-ups, to explain what's going on? Have you done that already?"

"I already made a call to Father Winslow, who said he'd notify the archdiocese of the situation. He seemed extremely upset."

"Father Winslow, you said?" Kelly confirmed the name and then jotted it in his notepad. "Do you keep files, like personnel files, here in the church?"

Donny cocked an eyebrow. "You mean like HR forms for priests?"

"Yeah," Kelly said, "something that says where so-and-so lives, their background, maybe a bank account. I know you have some stipend that you live on, right? Something that I could use to get a background into Father Tomlin's life so I can start looking at all the angles."

"Oh sure. Yeah. We have a record system. It's back in the rectory area. I can get it for you."

"Not yet," Kelly said, "I just wanted to know if you had access to that. When we clear the scene and you’re free to go back in the church, make sure you find that and get it to me, okay? That's going to help me out a lot."

"Sure thing, Mike," Donny said quietly.

"Hey, Kelly, what are you doing, assigning yourself your own cases now?" a voice called out from behind him.

Kelly turned. Standing next to Sergeant Connolly were Anthony Acevedo and Charlie McGarrity, two detectives from his Homicide unit. They also happened to be the next crew up for rotation, the next in line. Kelly had hoped to beat them to the punch and then jockey for position to take the case, since it was in his own neighborhood and directly involved one of his lifelong friends. He had a personal connection to the case and wouldn't feel comfortable leaving it in the hands of these two.

"Good to see you guys," Kelly said, sarcasm permeating his tone. "I thought you'd never get here." He looked at his watch, adding insult to injury. The fact that he hadn't been dispatched to the homicide yet beat the assigned detective squad there would sting.

"Very funny, Kelly. Just because a body drops in Dorchester doesn't mean you get first dibs. There's a pecking order here. Being a new guy to Homicide, maybe you should start learning how things work and the way cases are assigned."

Kelly threw his hands up in mock apology. "Hey, guys, no hard feelings. I was just talking to a friend of mine. There just happens to be a dead body inside," he said a little quieter, trying to keep his banter out of earshot of the onlookers.

The two detectives approached Kelly. They weren’t smiling and didn't seem to find any humor in his attempts at levity.

"Seriously, Kelly, take a hike," Acevedo said as he got closer. "This isn’t your case, and you being here means you get to write the first supplemental report. Maybe you should open with—‘Dear Chief, I can’t seem to mind my own damn business and ended up on somebody else’s crime scene.’ Sound good? Do you like writing supplemental reports on other homicide detectives' cases?"

"Not particularly," Kelly said, still not backing down from the younger detective.

Acevedo had been with Homicide longer than Kelly but had less experience on the street. He’d only been on the job for a little over six years and had fast-tracked his way into the unit. Acevedo's father was a captain and ranking member of the union. To say he had pull would be an understatement. His father had undoubtedly greased the wheels for his son’s career ascension, giving Acevedo the prestigious position of homicide detective over those more deserving. As far as respect went, Kelly had little for the man.

Kelly wasn’t just irked by the fact that nepotism had given Acevedo a leg up. This was Boston, and there was plenty of that to go around. His dislike for the detective came more from his work ethic. Kelly didn't trust his ability to handle the heavy load.

Kelly knew Acevedo and McGarrity were up for this case. When he received the call from Donny, he had rushed to the scene, not only to help his friend but also hoping he could beat the pair and take over the case. Because the likelihood of it getting solved under their watch was far less than if Kelly kept the ball in his court. Their closure rating was somewhere around forty percent, twenty percent lower than the average in Homicide, yet somehow Acevedo was able to maintain his position within the unit.

"What gives, Kelly, seriously? This isn't how business is done in Homicide. We don't just pick our cases. You get me? So go home! Take the rest of the day. And then tomorrow when you come in, how about you type up that supplement and put it on my desk? Sound fair, reasonable?"

"Everything—except the whole me-going-home thing and writing-you-a-supplement thing. I'm not writing a supplemental report."

"Why not?" Acevedo asked, getting a little too close for Kelly's comfort.

Under different circumstances, Kelly might've punched the man. But not here, not in the public eye, and definitely not on the scene of a homicide. He tabled his frustration and looked him square in the eye. "Because this is my case."

Acevedo looked to McGarrity and then back at Kelly, trying to process the situation. And while he was doing so, Kelly pulled out his phone and dialed the number he was preparing to call had he not been so rudely interrupted by the pair.

It rang once, and the gruff voice on the