Where is Gabriel Clay?
The search is on for missing twelve-year-old, Gabriel Clay. Few know Gabriel has a secret. Dangers are built-in with his secret. Seasoned detectives, Ben Schwartz and Al Di Natale have joined the rest of Boston in what many call a fool’s errand. The Boston area the boy and his grandmother live in is plagued with drugs and violence. However, the school he attends, George Washington Carver Charter School, offers a first-rate education and an outstanding basketball program.
Wounded Army captain, Ty Douglass, a graduate himself, returns from Afghanistan and joins the hunt. Douglass connects with old friends, Solomon Greer and Charles O’Toole, aka Tool. They share a tragedy from their youth; the unsolved murder of a friend. Empty Doorways has many secrets. Gabriel Clay has his, City Councilor Marty Doyle has his own, and Douglass wonders if Greer and Tool, whose illegal business is becoming more treacherous, know more about their friend’s death than they are admitting. In order to solve this case, the two detectives must risk their lives to uncover the secrets.
Otherwise, there will be more empty doorways unfilled because loved ones are never coming home.
His blue police light flashing on the dash, Di Natale pushed his Mustang up to 80. Ahead was the exit for Dorchester Bay. Di Natale had forgotten his LED flashlight. In a pinch, he’d use the little light on his smart phone to make the arrest. He wished he had his Army night vision goggles. He felt prepared, though. His mission was to confirm if the tip about the shipment was real. Then he’d call in help.
But it was risky and not sanctioned by police procedures. He should have informed his superiors before he left. If a professional killer was overseeing the delivery, Di Natale could get himself killed and the killer gets away. Would he be doing this on his own, if he was still with his wife Donna and son Chris? Maybe not. Without his family, which he was losing with the divorce, he had less to lose. He drove onto the road to the beach and yacht club. He put his police light back into the glove box.READ MORE
Di Natale had on his ballistic vest, with pockets for four full magazines and his cell phone. Clipped to his vest shoulder strap was a walkie talkie on a police frequency. On his patrolman’s belt rested his holstered Glock 9mm, a set of cuffs, and a Spyderco knife in a scabbard. He wore hiking boots with dark wool socks, black jeans, a black sweatshirt under the vest, a dark blue nylon rain jacket, with green neon letters, P-O-L-I-C-E on the back, and a blue Boston PD baseball cap. He slowed the Mustang to look for a spot near the coordinates Hernandez gave him. Close enough, he parked, the beach and the ocean in front. He smelled salt in the wind. He got a call.
“I’m on my way, Mr. Citizen Soldier,” said Schwartz. He was pissed. “We should call in SWAT and alert Boston PD.”
“Right, except won’t we look like the tail end of a baboon when all we got to show for this tip is sand in everyone’s shoes? Besides, if we make this arrest, we might get promotions.”
“Unless they’re posthumous,” said Schwartz.COLLAPSE
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