Fireflies: A Katie Bell Mystery (book 1) Read Free Page A

charge. Show him some goddamned respect, will you?”
    Officer Isaac looked at Arthur again, clearly a little disgruntled before slinking away.
    “Sorry about that, Agent Bell. These young bucks these days, I tell you. It’s like the academy is giving junior high jocks badges,” Detective Hutchinson said, shaking his head. “You’re early. We didn't expect you for another hour."
    Arthur nodded towards Detective Hutchinson as they both moved towards the abandoned car garage.
    Detective Hutchinson was a large man, who was a half a head taller than Arthur. Hutchinson had never been one for much “upkeep,” but today he looked particularly disheveled; his clothes had that wrinkled, worn “two days in a row” look, and his eyes had just a hint of redness to them. He had three days’ worth of stubble growth on his chin and cheeks. In all likelihood he was nursing a hangover.
    Arthur was sure that despite his current disposition, Hutchinson would still be up for the task. Hutchinson had always struck the special agent as a relatively competent member of the police force. That was far too rare of a trait as far as Arthur was concerned.
    The other bureau agents either looked annoyed that the police were still there, or were ignoring the cops completely. Nothing like having his so-called peers acting like snotty teenagers to make Arthur feel like he had chosen the right agency for his career.
    "What's with the crowd?" Arthur asked.
    "We received the call around nine thirty-five this morning and investigated. Due to the nature of the case and our two departments’ long history of collaboration, I called you guys,” he said.
    As they walked into the first bay of the garage, one of Arthur Bell’s personal team members approached them, Special Agent Kenneth Tapscott.
    He was the same height as Arthur, and still had the same crew cut he had when he had been in the Navy. Like many veterans who had been overseas, Tapscott had the look of a man who had seen far too much at far too young of an age. He was clad in the typical attire of an FBI agent, a dark, cheap suit and comfortable but similarly cheap dress shoes.
    Agent Tapscott said, “Once we took a look at the case it was a no brainer who should be in charge, Agent Bell.”
    Arthur didn’t say anything.
    Agent Tapscott had joined his team thirteen months prior, but Arthur was still concerned that the younger man was having a hard time adjusting to civilian life. He had enough work experience to know that while the former Navy SEAL had proven to be a skilled investigator, turning off his “killer instinct” had been more difficult than Tapscott would care to admit. Arthur didn’t blame him. Sometimes their jobs would be a lot easier if they were allowed to dish out justice in a more … Old Testament fashion.
    “Let me see her."

    T he car garage had a sickly look about it, a greenish yellow tint from bad overhead lighting, and once inside, the temperature dropped about ten degrees. The few police inside the first bay of the garage moved aside for the three men and Arthur stepped through the doorway into the second main section of the building.
    The FBI’s forensic team was already working the scene. Arthur wasn’t bothered by them working ahead of his arrival. They were his crew and had been at enough scenes with Arthur to know his process. They stayed out of his way and didn’t contaminate the scene. Later on Arthur would read their findings back at the office, but the most important step for him was to be there as close to the victim as possible. What made Arthur good at what he did was something outside of just poring over files. He had a knack for seeing what was right there that others did not.
    Arthur stopped when he reached her.
    The victim was a woman in her early twenties, staring back at Arthur with the dull indifference of the dead. She was naked, and had been placed on the hood of a white 2003 Ford Mustang.
    Her upper body was stretched out. Each wrist was