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Don’t, Jane, she thought. Don’t make me afraid of my own colleagues.
“He’s worked in this building eighteen years,” said Rizzoli.
“Abe’s been here nearly as long. Louise has, too.”
“Did you know Yoshima lives alone?”
“So do I.”
“He’s forty-eight years old, never married, and he lives by himself. Comes to work every day, and here you are, up close and personal. Both of you working with corpses. Dealing with some pretty grim stuff. That’s got to forge a bond between you two. All the terrible things that only you and he have seen.”
Maura thought of the hours that she and Yoshima had shared in that room with its steel tables and sharp instruments. He always seemed to anticipate her needs even before she did. Yes, there was a bond, of course there was, because they were a team. But after they stripped off the gowns and peeled off the shoe covers, they each walked out the door into their separate lives. They did not socialize; they’d never even shared a drink together after work. We’re alike that way, she thought. Two solitary people who only meet over corpses.
“Look,” said Rizzoli with a sigh, “I like Yoshima. I hate even bringing up the possibility. But it’s something I have to consider, or I wouldn’t be doing my job.”
“Which is what? To make me paranoid? I’m scared enough as it is, Jane. Don’t make me afraid of the very people I need to trust.” Maura swept up the papers from her desk. “Have you finished with my car? I’d like to go home.”
“Yeah, we’re done with it. But I’m not so sure you should go home.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“There are other options. You could go to a hotel. You can sleep on my couch. I just spoke to Detective Ballard, and he mentioned he has a spare room.”
“Why are you talking to Ballard?”
“He’s been checking in with me every day about the case. Called about an hour ago, and I told him what happened to your car. He came right over to look at it.”
“He’s in the parking lot now?”
“Got here a little while ago. He’s concerned, Doc. I am, too.” Rizzoli paused. “So what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know…”
“Well you’ve got a few minutes to think about it.” Rizzoli heaved herself to her feet. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out.”
Now here was an absurd moment, thought Maura as they headed down the hallway together. I’m being protected by a woman who can barely push herself out of a chair. But Rizzoli made it clear that she was the one in charge, the one who’d assumed the role of guardian. She was the one who opened the door and stepped out first.
Maura followed her across the parking lot, to the Lexus, where Frost and Ballard were standing.
“Are you all right, Maura?” Ballard asked. The glow of the streetlamp cast his eyes in shadow; she looked up into a face whose expression she could not read.
“I’m fine.”
“This could have turned out a lot worse.” He looked at Rizzoli. “You told her what we think?”
“I told her she might not want to go home tonight.”
Maura looked at her car. The three scratches stood out, even uglier than she’d remembered, like wounds left by a predator’s claws. A
Frost said, “CSU noticed a little ding on the driver’s door.”
“That’s old. Someone bumped me in a parking lot a few months ago.”
“Okay, so it’s just the scratches. They pulled off a few fingerprints. They’ll need yours, Doc. As soon as you can get a set over to the lab.”
“Of course.” She thought of all the fingers they’d inked in the morgue, all the cold flesh that was routinely pressed to cards. They’ll be getting mine ahead of the game. While I’m still alive. She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling chilled despite the warm night. She thought of walking into her empty house, locking herself into her bedroom. Even with all those barricades, it was still just a house, not a fortress. A house with windows that were easily shattered, screens that could be cut with only a knife.
“You said it was Charles Cassell who scratched A
“No, he’d have no reason to. This is clearly meant as a warning to you.” Rizzoli said, quietly: “Maybe A
I’m the one. I’m the one who should have died.
“Where do you want to go, Doc?” asked Rizzoli.
“I don’t know,” Maura said. “I don’t know what to do…”
“Well, may I suggest you not stand around out here?” said Ballard. “Where everyone can watch you?”
Maura glanced at the sidewalk. Saw the silhouettes of people who’d been drawn by the flashing lights of the police cruiser. People whose faces she could not see because they were in shadow, while she stood here, lit like the star performer beneath the streetlamp’s glare.
Ballard said, “I have a spare bedroom.”
She did not look at him, but kept her gaze focused, instead, on those faceless shadows. Thinking: This is happening too fast. Too many decisions are being made on the spur of the moment. Choices I may come to regret.
“Doc?” said Rizzoli. “What do you think?”
At last Maura looked at Ballard. And she felt, once again, that disturbing tug of attraction. “I don’t know where else to go,” she said.
He drove right behind her, so close that his headlights glared in her rearview mirror, as though he was afraid she might pull away, might try to lose him in the dense tangle of traffic. He stayed close even as they headed into the quieter suburb of Newton, even as she circled his block twice, the way he had instructed, to confirm no car was following them. When at last she came to a stop in front of his house, he was almost immediately standing at her window, tapping on the glass.
“Pull into my garage,” he said.
“I’ll be taking your space.”
“That’s okay. I don’t want your car sitting on the street. I’ll open the bay door.”
She turned into the driveway and watched as the door rumbled open to reveal an orderly garage where tools hung on a pegboard and built-in shelves held rows of paint cans. Even the concrete floor seemed to gleam. She eased into the bay, and the door immediately rolled shut behind her, closing off any view of her car from the street. For a moment she sat listening to the ticks of her cooling engine, and braced herself for the evening ahead. Only moments ago, returning to her own house had seemed unsafe, unwise. Now she wondered if this choice was any wiser.
Ballard opened her car door. “Come on in. I’ll show you how to arm the security system. Just in case I’m not here to do it.”
He led her into the house and up a short hallway to the foyer. Pointed to a keypad mounted near the front door.
“I had this updated only a few months ago. First you punch in the security code, then you press ARM. Once you’ve armed it, if anyone opens a door or a window, it’ll trigger an alarm so loud it’ll make your ears ring. It also automatically notifies the security company, and they’ll call the house. To disarm it, you punch in the same code, then hit OFF. Is that clear so far?”
“Yes. Do you want to tell me the code?”
“I was just getting to that.” He glanced at her. “You realize, of course, that I’m about to hand you the numerical key to my house.”
“Are you wondering if you can trust me?”
“Just promise not to pass it along to your unsavory friends.”
“Lord knows I have plenty of those.”
“Yeah.” He laughed. “And they probably all carry badges. Okay, the code is twelve seventeen. My daughter’s birthday. Think you can remember that, or do you want to write it down?”
“I’ll remember it.”
“Good. Now go ahead and arm it, since I think we’re in for the night.”
As she punched in the numbers, he stood so close beside her she could feel his breath in her hair. She pressed ARM and heard a soft beep. The digital readout now said: SYSTEM ARMED.