John Rhinehold palmed his BPD Detective’s shield as he stepped out of his blue Suburu WRX. He parked across the street from the police barricades and crime scene tapes and the WRX, modified well beyond Suburu’s specs, locked itself and went on stand-by as he walked away. He pulled a pair of heavier than usual RayBans out of his shirt pocket, put them on, and put in some earbuds.
His phone pinged a TXT message. The phone had four SIMs which activated randomly and he routinely switched these with a number of SIMs he kept specifically for randomizing purposes. The incoming TXT came from one of his burners planted at locations from Portland through Portsmouth to Boston then onto Providence, Hartford, and NYC. It’d be pointless to TXT back because whoever knew about the phone would know enough to destroy the SIM and smash the phone for double-good measure.
He read the TXT and his eyebrows lifted momentarily.
A foot patrol officer came up to him. “Something I can do for you?”
Rhinehold put his phone away and flashed his badge. The foot officer nodded and let him past.
SkyHook security didn’t accept the badge as valid until Throne gave him an Okay via a phone call. “Yeah, he was with me yesterday. Let him through but keep your eyes on him. No souvenir hunting.”
The security guard, wearing a dark gray pinstripe suit, open collared pink oxford sans tie, and comfortable loafers, smiled at Rhinehold. “I’ll go with you. Maybe you’ll see something we missed.”
Rhinehold smiled. Smooth, friend. Smooth.
Forensics hadn’t cleared the blast zone for cleanup and grit crunched underfoot as they walked. Rhinehold smiled. The crunching reminded him of his mother’s stories of the Fall of the Berlin Wall, how everybody and their brother scrambled to get a piece of history and offer it to the highest bidders, how the ground crunched underfoot from gravel to grit as more and more people came from around the world to claim this moment of history.
The backwash of daylight grew less and less as they walked deeper and deeper into the garage. Rhinehold pulled a small light out of his pocket and flicked it on. A pale green light misted in the garage like a gentle spring rain.
The guard squinted into the light’s mist.”Doesn’t throw much light.” He lifted his phone. Rhinehold held his hand up. “No thanks. I got this.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to take off your sunglasses?”
“Sensitive eyes.”
Rhinehold splayed the light back and forth like it was a hand-held lighthouse searching for ships lost at sea.
Nothing, nothing.
Nothing, nothing.
They walked towards Shaul’s destroyed Exige.
Something!
Rhinehold stopped walking. His brow furrowed, his hand held the light still and fixed as he focused.
The guard squinted into the dim green light. “What? What is it?”
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