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“But he found her anyway.”
“I think that’s why she came back to Boston. She knew she wasn’t safe up there anymore. You know she called me, don’t you? The night before?”
Maura nodded. “That’s what Rizzoli said.”
“She left a message on my answering machine, told me she was staying at the Tremont Hotel. I was in Denver, visiting my sister, so I didn’t hear the message till I got home. By then, A
“But she wasn’t killed in Maine. She was killed in front of my house.”
Ballard shook his head. “I don’t know where you come into this, Dr. Isles. But I don’t believe A
They heard the chime of the doorbell. He made no move to rise and answer it, but remained in his chair, his gaze on her. It was a gaze so intent she couldn’t turn away, could only stare back, thinking: I want to believe him. Because I ca
“I want Cassell put away,” he said. “And I’ll do everything I can to help Rizzoli do it. I watched the whole thing unfold, and I knew from the very begi
Angry voices suddenly drew her attention. In the other room, the TV had gone silent, but Katie and a woman were now exchanging sharp words. Ballard glanced toward the door as the voices rose to shouts.
“What the hell were you thinking?” the woman was yelling.
Ballard stood up. “Excuse me, I should probably find out what the fuss is all about.” He walked out, and Maura heard him say: “Carmen, what’s going on?”
“You should ask your daughter that question,” the woman answered.
“Give it a rest, Mom. Just give it a fucking rest.”
“Tell your father what happened today. Go on, tell him what they found in your locker.”
“It is not a big deal.”
“Tell him, Katie.”
“You are totally overreacting.”
“What happened, Carmen?” said Ballard.
“The principal called me this afternoon. The school did a random locker check today, and guess what they found in our daughter’s locker? A joint. How the hell does that look? Here she’s got two parents in law enforcement, and she’s got drugs in her locker. We’re just lucky he’s letting us deal with it ourselves. What if he’d reported it? I can just see having to arrest my own daughter.”
“Oh, Christ.”
“We have to deal with this together, Rick. We have to agree on how to handle it.”
Maura rose from the couch and went to the door, unsure of how to politely make her exit. She did not want to intrude on this family’s privacy, yet here she was, listening to an exchange she knew she shouldn’t be hearing. I should just say good-bye and go, she thought. Leave these beleaguered parents alone.
She walked into the hall and paused as she approached the living room. Katie’s mother glanced up, startled to see an unexpected visitor in the house. If the mother was any indication of what Katie would one day look like, then that sullen teenager was destined to be a statuesque blonde. The woman was almost as tall as Ballard, with the rangy lea
Maura said, “Excuse me for interrupting.”
Ballard turned to her, and gave a weary laugh. “I’m afraid you’re not exactly seeing us at our best. This is Katie’s mom, Carmen. This is Dr. Maura Isles.”
“I’m going to leave now,” said Maura.
“But we hardly got a chance to talk.”
“I’ll call you another time. I can see you have other things on your mind.” She nodded to Carmen. “Glad to meet you. Good night.”
“Let me walk you out,” said Ballard.
They stepped out of the house, and he gave a sigh, as though relieved to be away from the demands of his family.
“I’m sorry to intrude on that,” she said.
“I’m sorry you had to listen to it.”
“Have you noticed we can’t stop apologizing to each other?”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Maura.”
They reached her car and paused for a moment.
“I didn’t get to tell you much about your sister,” he said.
“Next time I see you?”
He nodded. “Next time.”
She slid into her car and closed the door. Rolled down her window when she saw him lean down to talk to her.
“I will tell you this much about her,” he said.
“Yes?”
“You look so much like A
She could not stop thinking of those words as she sat in her living room, studying the photo of young A
You look so much like A
Yes, she thought, touching A
There is so much more I want to know about you.
It was late; she turned off the lamp and went to her bedroom to pack.
EIGHT
PITCH BLACK. Head aching. The scent of wood and damp earth and… something else that made no sense. Chocolate. She smelled chocolate.
Mattie Purvis opened her eyes wide, but she might as well have kept them tightly closed because she could see nothing. Not a glimmer of light, not a wisp of shadow on shadow. Oh god, am I blind?
Where am I?
She was not in her own bed. She was lying on something hard, and it made her back ache. The floor? No, this wasn’t polished wood beneath her, but rough planks, gritty with dirt.
If only her head would stop pounding.
She closed her eyes, fighting off nausea. Trying, even through the pain, to remember how she could have arrived at this strange, dark place where nothing seemed familiar. Dwayne, she thought. We had a fight, and then I drove home. She struggled to retrieve the lost fragments of time. She remembered a stack of mail on the table. She remembered crying, her tears dripping onto envelopes. She remembered jumping up, and the chair hitting the floor.
I heard a noise. I went into the garage. I heard a noise and went into the garage, and…
Nothing. She could remember nothing after that.
She opened her eyes. It was still dark. Oh, this is bad, Mattie, she thought, this is very, very bad. Your head hurts, you’ve lost your memory, and you’re blind.
“Dwayne?” she called. She heard only the whoosh of her own pulse.
She had to get up. She had to find help, had to find a phone at the very least.
She rolled onto her right side to push herself up, and her face slammed up against a wall. The impact bounced her right onto her back again. She lay stu
And collided with another wall.
Her heartbeat thudded louder, faster. She lay on her back again, thinking: walls on both sides. This can’t be. This isn’t real. Pushing up off the floor, she sat up, and slammed the top of her head. Collapsed, once again, onto her back.