Tess Gerritsen - The Mephisto Club

By the time they crossed the state line into New York, night had fallen. Her cell phone rang, and in the dark car it took her a moment to find it among the jumbled contents of her purse. “Dr. Isles,” she answered.

“Maura, it’s me.”

At the sound of Daniel’s voice, she felt her cheeks flame and was glad that darkness masked her face from Jane’s gaze.

“Detective Frost came to see me,” he said.

“I had to tell them.”

“Of course you had to. But I wish you’d called me about it. You should have told me.”

“I’m sorry. It must have been so embarrassing, to hear it from him first.”

“No, I mean about the writing on your door. I had no idea. I would have been there for you in an instant. You shouldn’t have had to face that alone.”

She paused, acutely aware that Jane was listening to every word. And would no doubt express her disapproval the instant the call ended.

“I went by your house a little while ago,” he said. “I was hoping to find you at home.”

“I’m going to be away tonight.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in the car with Jane. We just passed through Albany a while ago.”

“You’re in New York? Why?”

“They’ve found another victim. We think…” Jane’s hand suddenly closed around Maura’s arm, an unmistakable warning that the less revealed, the better. Jane didn’t trust him anymore, now that he’d proven himself to be all too human. “I can’t talk about it,” she said.

There was a silence on the line. Then, a quiet “I understand.”

“There are details we have to keep confidential.”

“You don’t need to explain. I know how it works.”

“Can I call you back later?” When there isn’t another pair of ears listening.

“You don’t have to, Maura.”

“I want to.” I need to.

She hung up and stared at a night pierced only by the beams of their headlights. They had left the turnpike behind them, and their route now took them southwest, on a road that cut through snow-covered fields. Here, the only lights they saw came from the occasional passing car or the glow of a distant farmhouse.

“You’re not going to talk to him about the case, are you?” asked Jane.

“Even if I did, he’s perfectly discreet. I’ve always trusted him.”

“Well, so did I.”

“Meaning you don’t anymore?”

“You’re in lust, Doc. That’s not the best time to trust your judgment.”

“We both know this man.”

“And I never thought-”

“What, that he’d sleep with me?”

“I’m just saying, you may think you know someone. And then they surprise you. They do something you never expected, and you realize you’re in the dark about everyone. Everyone. If you told me a few months ago that my dad would leave my mom for some bimbo, I’d have said you were nuts. I’m telling you, people are a goddamn mystery. Even the people we love.”

“And now you don’t trust Daniel.”

“Not when it comes to that vow of chastity.”

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about this investigation. About telling him details that concern both of us.”

“He’s not a cop. He doesn’t have to hear a thing.”

“He was with me last night. The writing on my door was directed at him, too.”

“You mean, I have sinned ?”

Heat flooded Maura’s face. “Yes,” she said.

For a moment they drove without speaking. The only sounds were the tires on the road, the hiss of the car heater.

“I respected Brophy, okay?” said Jane. “He’s been good to Boston PD. When we need a priest on the scene, he comes right over, any time of night. I liked him.”

“Then why have you turned against him?”

Jane looked at her. “Because I happen to like you, too.”

“You certainly don’t give me that impression.”

“Yeah? Well, when you do something unexpected like this, something so self-destructive, it makes me wonder.”

“What?”

“If I really know you, either.”

It was after eight when they finally pulled into the parking lot of Lourdes Hospital in Binghamton. Maura was not inclined to make small talk as she stepped out of the car, her muscles stiff from the long journey. They had stopped only briefly for a silent dinner at a rest stop McDonald’s, and her stomach was unsettled by Jane’s driving, by the hastily devoured meal, but most of all by the tension between them, now spun so tight that one more twist could snap it. She has no right to judge me, Maura thought as they trudged past drifts of plowed snow. Jane was married and happy and so fucking morally superior. What did she know about Maura’s life, about the nights she spent alone watching old movies or playing the piano to an empty house? The gap between their lives yawned too wide to be bridged by real friendship. And what do I have in common, anyway, with this blunt and uncompromising bitch? Not a thing.

They walked in through the ER entrance, cold wind sweeping in with them as the automatic doors slid shut. Jane crossed straight to the triage window and called out, “Hello? Can I get some information out here?”

“Are you Detective Rizzoli?” said a voice behind them.

They had not seen him sitting alone in the patient waiting area. Now he rose to his feet, a wan-faced man wearing a tweed jacket over a hunter-green sweater. Not a cop, guessed Maura, noting his shaggy head of hair, and he quickly confirmed her impression.

“I’m Dr. Kibbie,” he said. “Thought I’d wait for you out here, so you wouldn’t have to find your own way down to the morgue.”

“Thanks for meeting us tonight,” said Jane. “This is Dr. Isles, from our ME’s office.”

Maura shook his hand. “You’ve already done the autopsy?”

“Oh, no. I’m not a pathologist, just a humble internist. There are four of us who rotate as Chenango County coroners. I do the preliminary death investigation and decide if a postmortem is called for. The autopsy itself will probably be done tomorrow afternoon, assuming the Onondaga County ME can make it down here from Syracuse.”

“You must have your own pathologist in this county.”

“Yes, but in this particular case…” Kibbie shook his head. “Unfortunately, we know this murder’s going to generate publicity. A lot of interest. Plus, it could end up in a splashy criminal trial someday, and our pathologist wanted to bring in another ME on the case as well. Just so there’ll be no question about their conclusions. Safety in numbers, you know.” He picked up his overcoat from the chair. “The elevator’s that way.”

“Where’s Detective Jurevich?” asked Jane. “I thought he was going to meet us here.”

“Unfortunately, Joe got called away just a while ago, so he won’t be seeing you tonight. He said he’d meet you in the morning, over at the house. Just give him a call tomorrow.” Kibbie took a breath. “So, are you ready for this?”

“That bad, huh?”

“Let’s put it this way: I hope I never see anything like this again.”

They started up the hall to the elevator, and he pressed the Down button.

“After two weeks, I guess she’s in pretty bad shape,” said Jane.

“Actually, there’s been minimal decomposition. The house was vacant. No heat, no power. It’s probably about thirty degrees inside. Like storing meat in a freezer.”

“How did she end up there?”

“We have no idea. There were no signs of forced entry, so she must have had a key. Or the killer did.”

The elevator door opened and they stepped in, Kibbie flanked by the two women. A buffer between Maura and Jane, who still had not said a word to each other since they’d left the car.