who’d been practically run out of town – and wound up in Florida.
But a hunted man, with a collar on a whole lot bigger than my old man ever managed to earn.
Even when you throw it as far as you can.
Chapter 25
“SPECIAL AGENT SHURTLEFF put the whole thing together,” Ellie’s boss, George Moretti, said, and shrugged, like,
“She recognized implements at the murder scene that could be used for prying open picture frames. Then she found numbers in the victims’ personal effects that matched Stratton’s alarm code. We located the stolen uniforms a short time later, stuffed in a bag in a car down the street.”
“Seems you ?nally put that art degree to some real use, Special Agent Shurtleff,” ADIC Cole said, beaming.
“It was just having access to both crime scenes,” Ellie said, a little nervous. This was the ?rst time she had been in front of the ADIC for any reason.
“The victims were all acquainted, from the Boston area with minor rap sheets.” Moretti slid a copy of the preliminary report across his boss’s desk. “Nothing like a crime of this magnitude ever before. There’s another member of this group who lived down here who’s apparently missing.” He pushed a photo over. “One
“Good. This Kelly have a record?” the ADIC inquired.
“Juvie,” Moretti said, “expunged. But his father’s a different story. Three stints on everything from bookmaking to receiving stolen goods. As a matter of routine, we’re gonna ?ash the kid’s photo around that hotel in Palm Beach, where that other incident took place. You never know.”
“I actually took a look at that scene,” Ellie volunteered. She told her bosses that the times of death didn’t match up. Also, the Palm Beach police were treating the murder as a sex crime.
“Seems our agent here has designs on being a homicide detective as well,” Hank Cole said with a grin.
Ellie caught herself and took the dig, her cheeks coloring.
“Anyway, why don’t we just leave something for the local authorities to clean up.” Cole smiled at her. “So it seems this Ned Kelly may have ripped off his old buddies, huh? Well, he’s sure graduated to the big time now. So whatya think, Special Agent,” he said, turning to Ellie, “you ready to ?y up North and put yourself on this guy?”
“Of course,” Ellie said. Whether they were condescending or not, she loved the attention of being on the A team for once.
“Any ideas where he’d be headed?”
Moretti shrugged. He went over to a wall map. “He’s got family, roots up there. Maybe a fence, too.” He pushed in a red pin. “We ?gure Boston, sir.”
“Actually,” said Ellie, “ Brockton.”
Chapter 26
KELTY’S, ON THE CORNER of Temple and Main in south Brockton, usually closed around midnight. After the Bruins’ postgame report or
Tonight, I was lucky. The lights dimmed at 11:35.
A few minutes afterward, a large guy with curly brown hair in a hooded Falmouth sweatshirt yelled, “Later, Charl,” and closed the door behind him as he stepped onto the sidewalk. He started to head down Main, a knapsack over his shoulder, leaning into the early April chill.
I followed on the other side of the street, a safe distance behind. Everything had changed around there. The men’s store and the Supreme B Donut Shop where we used to hang out were now a grungy Laundromat and a low-end liquor store. The guy I was following had changed, too.
He was one of those thick, strong-shouldered dudes with a cocky smile who could break your wrist arm wrestling if he wanted to. His picture was up in the local high school. He’d once been district champ at 180 pounds for Brockton High.
He made a left on Nilsson, crossing over the tracks. I followed, maybe thirty yards behind. Once, he looked back, maybe hearing footsteps, and I huddled in the shadows. The same rows of shabby, clapboard houses I’d passed a thousand times as a kid, looking even shabbier and more run-down now.
He turned the corner. On the left was the elementary school and Buckley Park, where we used to play Rat Fuck on the basketball courts for quarters. A block away on Perkins was the ruin of the old Stepover shoe factory, boarded up for years. I thought back to how we used to hide out in there from the priests and cut classes, smoke a little. When I turned at the corner, he wasn’t there!
And then I was the one being jumped!
Suddenly, I felt a strong arm tighten around my neck. I was jerked backward, a knee digging deep into my spine. The sonuvabitch was stronger than I remembered.
I ?ailed my arms to try and roll him over my back. I couldn’t breathe. I heard him grunting, applying more pressure, twisting me backward. My spine felt as if it were about to crack.
I started to panic. If I couldn’t spin out quickly, he was going to break my back.
“Who caught it?” he suddenly hissed into my ear.
“Who caught
He twisted harder. “Flutie’s Hail Mary. The Orange Bowl. 1984.”
I tried to force him forward, using my hips as leverage, straining with all my might. His grip just tightened. I felt a searing pain in my lungs.
“Gerard… Phelan,” I ?nally gasped.
Suddenly, the vise hold around my neck released. I fell to one knee, sucking in air.
I looked up into the smirking face of my younger brother, Dave.
“You’re lucky,” he said, grinning. Then he put out a hand to help me. “I was going to ask who caught Flutie’s last college pass.”
Chapter 27
WE HUGGED. Then Dave and I stood there and took a physical inventory of how we’d changed. He was much larger; he looked like a man now, not a kid. We slapped each other on the back. I hadn’t seen my baby brother in almost four years. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” I said, and hugged him again.
“Yeah,” he said, grinning, “well, you’re making my eyes sore now.”
We laughed, the way we did when we were growing up, and locked hands, ghetto-style. Then his face changed. I could tell that he’d heard. Surely everyone had by now.
