Cold Hard Truth (Boston Crime Thriller Book 5) by Brian Shea

Author:Brian Shea [Shea, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn River Publishing
Published: 2022-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

21

Kelly surveyed the apartment. Charles and his team of crime scene technicians had already cleared it twenty minutes ago, spending nearly four hours inside collecting and photographing a plethora of evidence. According to the clock, it was a little past three in the morning. Kelly couldn't make out the exact time since some of Andrew Westmoreland’s skull fragments were smeared across the clock face, obscuring it from view.

The bodies still remained in the same position as when Kelly had arrived after SWAT had given the all clear. Belk lay sprawled on the kitchen floor, his body visible from the front door where Kelly stood. Everyone had cleared the room. A patrol officer standing outside behind the yellow police tape was maintaining the crime scene logbook.

Something was off, but Kelly couldn’t quite put his finger on it. His mind kept working the equation. They'd made several conjectures while working the scene. The one that seemed to be the best explanation, and the one Halstead had briefed the chief on, was that some type of altercation over money had occurred. Drugs were involved, and it became violent.

Seeing as Westie’s gunshot wound would’ve killed him instantly, he must have shot first, the gun still in his hand. The bullet lodged in Belk’s spine, which had entered the left side of his chest cavity beneath the heart, would need to be recovered by the forensic examiner at the ME’s office, as would the bullet fragment recovered from the wall after passing through Westie’s skull. Several knife wounds were found in Westmoreland’s chest.

Mainelli clasped a hand on Kelly’s shoulder. "A crime scene is like a piece of artwork. You've got to know when it's finished, and I think we're done here."

"Have you ever had a feeling of déjà vu on a scene?"

"Kid, you work the body beat long enough and they all seem the same after a while."

"That's not what I mean. I mean, I feel like I've seen this or something like it before, in another scene."

"I don’t know what you're getting at."

"I don't either, but there’s something familiar about it."

"I'm sure that brain of yours will figure it out."

"It reminds me of Scarface," Cahill said.

He did his best Al Pacino impression. He was in the middle of Pacino’s famous line when Chief Ryan appeared beyond the yellow tape, standing in the doorway next to Halstead. Cahill spun his imaginary AK-47 and stopped mid-impression, dropping the act immediately.

"Excuse me, Chief." Cahill deflated like a balloon.

"Don't stop on my account." The chief cracked a weak attempt at a smile. "I worked the body beat too. I remember the need to blow off steam. Just make sure you know your audience." Ryan looked at the two dead men. "So these are the savages who killed my son?" He was maintaining his professional exterior, but just beneath the service boiled the rage of a bereaved father.

"Looks that way," Kelly said.

"I still don't get why these two clowns would come after me or my son."

"We're still working the 'why.

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