Tess Gerritsen - Last to Die

“Unlike some people,” I taunted him, “at least I can go home.”

He smiled, and that smile made my hands suddenly go cold. As if I were looking into the face of my future. “Can you?”

TWENTY-THREE

JANE HAD TO ADMIT, DARREN CROWE LOOKED GOOD ON TV. SITTING at her desk in the homicide unit, she watched the interview on the department’s TV, admiring Crowe’s sharp suit, blow-dried hair, and those dazzling teeth. She wondered if he’d bleached his teeth himself with a drugstore whitening kit, or if he’d paid a professional to polish up the pearly whites.

“Reuben with double sauerkraut,” said Frost, setting a sandwich bag on her desk. He dropped into the chair beside hers and unwrapped his usual lunch, a turkey on white, no lettuce.

“Look how that reporter’s ogling him,” Jane said, pointing to the blond correspondent interviewing Crowe. “I swear, any second now she’s gonna rip off her blazer and scream, Take me, Officer! ”

“No one ever says that to me.” Frost sighed, resignedly biting into his sandwich.

“He’s milking this like a pro. Oh look, here he comes with the deep thoughts expression.”

“I saw him practicing that look in the john.”

“Deep thoughts?” She snorted as she unwrapped her Reuben sandwich. “Like he has any. The way he’s staring at that chick, he’s thinking more along the lines of deep throat .”

They sat eating their sandwiches as they watched Crowe on TV describing the Zapata takedown. Could have surrendered, but chose to run … We exercised restraint at all times … clearly the actions of a guilty man …

Her appetite suddenly gone, Jane put down her Reuben.

Illegal aliens like Zapata who bring their violence to this country will be dealt with. That’s my pledge to the good citizens of Boston .

“This is bullshit,” she said. “Just like that, he’s got Zapata tried and convicted.”

Frost didn’t say anything, simply kept eating his turkey sandwich as if nothing else mattered, and that annoyed her. Usually she appreciated her partner’s unflappability. No drama, no meltdowns, just a maddeningly even-keeled Boy Scout who now reminded her of a cow calmly chewing grass.

“Hey,” she said. “Doesn’t this bother you?”

He looked at her, his mouth full of turkey. “I know it bothers you.”

“But you’re okay with it? Closing the book when we’ve got no murder weapon, nothing in Zapata’s possession that ties him to the Ackermans?”

“I didn’t say I was okay with it.”

“Now Cop Hollywood’s on TV there, wrapping it all up like a Christmas present. A present that stinks. It should piss you off.”

“I guess.”

“Does anything piss you off?”

He took another bite of turkey and chewed, thinking over the question. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Alice.”

“Ex-wives are supposed to do that.”

“You asked.”

“Well, this case should, too. Or bug you, at least, the way it’s bugging me and Maura.”

At the mention of Maura’s name, he finally set down his sandwich and looked at her. “What does Dr. Isles think?”

“Same thing I do, that these three kids are somehow connected. Their psychologist has just jumped off a roof, and Maura’s wondering, What is it about these kids that kills everyone close to them? It’s as if they’re cursed. Everywhere they go, someone dies.”

“And now they’re all together in one place.”

Evensong . She thought of dark woods where willow trees were hung with blood-splattered ornaments. Thought of a castle where the occupants themselves were haunted, all of them living in the shadow of violence. Both Teddy and Maura were there behind locked gates, with children who were all too well acquainted with bloodshed.

“Rizzoli.” The voice startled her, and she snapped around in her chair to see Lieutenant Marquette standing behind her. At once she grabbed the remote and shut off the TV.

“Not enough to do around here?” Marquette said. “You two watching soap operas now?”

“Biggest soap opera of them all,” she said. “Detective Crowe telling the good people of Boston how he single-handedly took down the evil genius Zapata.”

Marquette cocked his head. “I need you in my office.”

She saw Frost’s look of uh-oh as she stood up, and she followed Marquette in a brisk march into his office. He closed the door. She waited until he’d settled into his own chair before she sat down. Tried to keep her gaze steady as he stared at her across his desk.

“You and Crowe are never going to agree on anything, are you?” he said.

“What’s his complaint about me now?”

“The lack of a unified front on the Ackerman case. The fact you keep raising questions about a rush to judgment.”

“Guilty as charged,” she conceded. “I think it is a rush to judgment.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard all your objections. But you have to see how this looks, if the press gets wind of what you’re saying. It’d be a PR nightmare. This case has already gotten everyone’s attention. Wealthy family, dead kids, everything that Nancy Grace loves. It also has a villain that half of America loves to hate, an illegal immigrant. Zapata was everyone’s dream perp. Best of all, he’s dead and the case is closed. A fairy-tale ending.”

“If nightmares were fairy tales,” she said.

“After all, they do call them the Brothers Grimm.”

“The public’s satisfied, so you’re saying I should shut up and be satisfied, too?”

He leaned back in his chair. “Sometimes, Rizzoli, you really are a pain in the butt.”

“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.”

“Which is why you make a good investigator. You poke and you prod. You go digging holes where no one else wants to. I read your report on the three kids. Semtex in New Hampshire? A plane bombed in Maryland? This thing is looking like one hell of a big graveyard.” He paused, fingers tapping his desk as he studied her. “So go ahead. Do your thing.”

She wasn’t sure what he was saying. “My thing?”

“Dig. Officially, the Ackerman case is closed. Unofficially, I’ve got doubts, too. But you’re the only one who knows it.”

“Can I bring Frost aboard? I could use him.”

“I cannot commit any more resources to this. I’m not even sure I should let you spend time on it.”

“So why are you?”

He leaned forward, his eyes on hers. “Look, I’d love to close this case right now and call it a win. I want our statistics to look good, of course I do. But just like you, I’ve got instincts. Sometimes we’re forced to ignore those gut feelings, and when it turns out we were right all along, we kick ourselves. I don’t want it someday shoved in my face that I shut this down too fast.”

“So we’re covering our asses.”

“Anything wrong with that?” he snapped.

“Not a thing.”

“Okay.” He leaned back again. “What’s your plan?”

She had to think about this for a moment, consider which of the unanswered questions demanded priority. And she decided that her number one question was: What did the Wards, the Yablonskis, and the Clocks have in common, aside from the manner of their deaths? Did they know one another?

She said: “I need to go to Maryland.”

“Why Maryland?”

“Will Yablonski’s father worked at NASA-Goddard. So did Will’s uncle, Brian Temple. I want to talk to their colleagues at NASA. Maybe they know why that plane went down. And why Brian and his wife were so quick to get their nephew out of Maryland and move him to New Hampshire.”