The Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Bundle

by Tess Gerritsen

  “Did you get that?” she called to another cameraman. “Shit, did anyone get that on tape?”

  In disgust, Gabriel turned and walked away. He kept walking until he was well away from the crowd, away from the glare of klieg lights. Two blocks from the hospital, he found himself standing alone on a corner. Even on this dark street, there was no relief from the summer heat, which still radiated from sidewalks that had baked all day in the sun. His feet suddenly felt rooted to the pavement, melded there by grief, by dread.

  I don’t know how to save you. It’s my job to keep people out of harm’s way, but I cannot protect the one person I love most.

  His cell phone rang. He recognized the number on the digital display, and did not answer it. It was Jane’s parents. They had already called him while he was in the car, right after Zoe’s newscast had aired. He’d quietly endured Angela Rizzoli’s hysterical sobs, Frank’s demands for action. I can’t deal with them now, he thought. Maybe in five minutes, or ten. But not now.

  He stood alone in the night, struggling to regain his composure. He was not a man who easily lost control, yet moments ago, he’d almost slammed his fist into a man’s face. Jane would be shocked, he thought. And probably amused, too, to see her husband finally lose it. Mr. Gray Suit, she’d once called him in a fit of irritation because he was so unflappable, while her temper flared hot. You’d be proud of me, Jane, he thought. I’ve finally revealed I’m human.

  But you aren’t here to see it. You don’t know that it’s all about you.

  “Gabriel?”

  He straightened. Turned to see Maura, who had approached so silently that he had not even noticed she was there.

  “I had to get the hell away from that circus,” he said. “Or I swear, I would have wrung that woman’s neck. It’s bad enough I took it out on her cameraman.”

  “So I heard.” She paused. “Jane’s parents just got here. I saw them in the parking lot.”

  “They called me, right after they saw the newscast.”

  “They’re looking for you. You’d better go to them.”

  “I can’t handle them right now.”

  “I’m afraid you also have another problem.”

  “What?”

  “Detective Korsak is here. He’s none too pleased that he didn’t get notified at all.”

  “Oh, Christ. He’s the last person I want to see.”

  “Korsak is her friend. He’s known her as long as you have. You may not get along with him, but he cares a lot about Jane.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He sighed. “I know.”

  “These are all people who love her. You’re not the only one, Gabriel. Barry Frost has been hanging around here all evening. Even Detective Crowe dropped by. We’re all worried sick, we’re all scared for her.” She stopped. Added: “I know I’m scared.”

  He turned to look up the street, toward the hospital. “I’m supposed to comfort them? I’m barely holding it together myself.”

  “That’s just it, you’ve taken it all on yourself. It’s all been on your shoulders.” She touched his arm. “Go, join her family. Her friends. You need each other right now.”

  He nodded. Then, taking a deep breath, he walked back toward the hospital.

  It was Vince Korsak who spotted him first. The retired Newton detective came charging toward him, and intercepted him on the sidewalk. Standing under the streetlamp, Korsak looked like a glowering troll, bullnecked and belligerent.

  “How come you didn’t call me?” he demanded.

  “I didn’t get the chance, Vince. Things have been happening so fast—”

  “They said she’s been in there all day.”

  “Look, you’re right. I should have called.”

  “Coulda, shoulda, woulda doesn’t cut it. What the hell, Dean? You think I’m not worth calling? You think I wouldn’t want to know what the fuck is going on?”

  “Vince, calm down.” He reached toward Korsak, who angrily batted away his hand.

  “She’s my friend, goddammit!”

  “I know that. But we were trying to control leaks. We didn’t want the press to hear that a cop was inside.”

  “You think I’d have leaked it? You think I’d do something that fucking stupid?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then you should’ve called me. You may be the one who married her, Dean. But I care about her, too!” Korsak’s voice cracked. “I care about her, too,” he repeated softly, then suddenly turned away.

  I know you care. I also know you’re in love with her, even if you’ll never admit it. That’s why we can never be friends. We both wanted her, but I’m the one who married her.

  “What’s happening in there?” said Korsak, voice muffled. Still not looking at him. “Does anyone know?”

  “We don’t know a thing.”

  “That bitch popped the secret on air half an hour ago. There’s been no calls from the taker? No sounds of gun—” Korsak stopped. “No reaction?”

  “Maybe they weren’t watching the TV. Maybe they haven’t heard they’re holding a cop. That’s what I’m hoping—that they don’t know.”

  “When was their last contact?”

  “They called around five, to set up a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “They want a live TV interview. In exchange, they’ll release two hostages.”

  “Then let’s do it! What’s taking so long?”

  “The police were reluctant to send in any civilians. It meant endangering a reporter and a cameraman.”

  “Hey, I’ll run the fucking camera if someone shows me how. And you can play reporter. They should send us.”

  “The hostage takers asked for a specific reporter. A man named Peter Lukas.”

  “You mean that guy who writes for the Tribune? Why him?”

  “That’s what we’d all like to know.”

  “Well, let’s get on with it, then. Get her the hell out of there before—”

  Gabriel’s cell phone rang and he winced, thinking that it must be Jane’s parents trying yet again to talk to him. He could not put them off any longer. He reached for the phone and frowned at the digital display. It was a number he did not recognize.

  “This is Gabriel Dean,” he answered.

  “Agent Dean? With the FBI?”

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s Joe. I think you know who I am.”

  Gabriel froze. He saw Korsak watching him, instantly alert.

  “We have things to talk about, Agent Dean.”

  “How did you know—”

  “Your wife here tells us you’re trustworthy. That your word is your bond. We hope that’s true.”

  “Let me talk to her. Let me hear her voice.”

  “In a minute. Once you promise.”

  “What? Tell me what you want!”

  “Justice. We want you to promise to do your job.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We need you to bear witness. To hear what we have to say, because there’s a good chance we’re not going to live through this night.”

  A chill sliced through Dean. They’re suicidal. Are they going to take everyone else down with them?

  “We want you to tell the world the truth,” said Joe. “They’ll listen to you. Come inside with that reporter, Agent Dean. Talk to us. When it’s over, tell everyone what you’ve heard.”

  “You’re not going to die. You don’t have to.”

  “You think we want to? We’ve tried to outrun them and we can’t. This is the only choice left to us.”

  “Why do it this way? Why threaten innocent people?”

  “No one will listen to us any other way.”

  “Just walk out! Release the hostages and surrender.”

  “And you’ll never see us alive again. They’ll come up with a logical explanation. They always do. Watch, you’ll see it in the news. They’ll claim we committed suicide. We’ll die in prison, before we ever get to trial. And everyone will think: ‘well,
that’s how it goes in jail.’ This is our last chance, Agent Dean, to get the world’s attention. To tell them.”

  “Tell them what?”

  “What really happened in Ashburn.”

  “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. But I’ll do whatever you want if you just let my wife go.”

  “She’s right here. She’s fine. In fact, I’ll let you—”

  The connection suddenly went dead.

  “Joe? Joe?”

  “What happened?” Korsak demanded. “What’d he say?”

  Gabriel ignored him; all his attention was focused on reestablishing the link. He retrieved the phone number and hit DIAL.

  “… we’re sorry. This number is currently unavailable.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Korsak yelled.

  “I can’t get through.”

  “He hung up on you?”

  “No, we were cut off. Right after …” Gabriel stopped. Turned and looked up the street, his gaze focusing on the command trailer. They’ve been listening in, he thought. Someone heard everything Joe said.

  “Hey!” called Korsak. “Where you going?”

  Gabriel was already running toward the trailer. He didn’t bother to knock, but shoved open the door and stepped inside. Hayder and Stillman turned from the video monitors and looked at him.

  Hayder said, “We don’t have time for you right now, Agent Dean.”

  “I’m going into the building. I’m going to get my wife.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Hayder laughed. “I’m sure you’ll be greeted with open arms.”

  “Joe called me on my cell phone. They’re inviting me in. They want to talk to me.”

  Stillman abruptly straightened, his face registering what looked like genuine surprise. “When did he call you? No one told us.”

  “It was just a few minutes ago. Joe knows who I am. He knows Jane is my wife. I can reason with these people.”

  “It’s out of the question,” said Hayder.

  “You were willing to send in that reporter.”

  “They know you’re FBI. In their minds, you’re probably part of this crazy government conspiracy they’re so scared of. You’d be lucky to last five minutes in there.”

  “I’ll risk it.”

  “You’ll be a prize for them,” said Stillman. “A high-profile hostage.”

  “You’re the negotiator. You’re the one who always talks about slowing things down. Well, these people want to negotiate.”

  “Why with you?”

  “Because they know I won’t do anything to endanger Jane. I’ll pull no tricks, bring in no booby traps. It’ll just be me, playing by their rules.”

  “It’s too late, Dean,” said Stillman. “We’re not running this show anymore. They’ve already got their entry team in place.”

  “What team?”

  “The feds flew them in from Washington. It’s some crack antiterrorist unit.”

  This was exactly what Senator Conway had told Gabriel was about to happen. The time for negotiations had clearly passed.

  “Boston PD’s been ordered to stay on the sidelines,” said Hayder. “Our job’s just to keep the perimeters secure, while they go in.”

  “When is this supposed to go down?”

  “We have no idea. They’re calling the shots.”

  “What about that deal you made with Joe? The cameraman, the reporter? He still thinks it’s going to happen.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Who called it off?”

  “The feds did. We just haven’t told Joe yet.”

  “He’s already agreed to release two hostages.”

  “And we’re still hoping he does. That’s at least two lives we can save.”

  “If you don’t hold up your end of the bargain—if you don’t send in Peter Lukas—there are four hostages in there you’re not going to save.”

  “By then, I hope the entry team will be in.”

  Gabriel stared at him. “Do you want a massacre? Because you’re going to get one! You’re giving two paranoid people every reason to think their delusion is real. That you are out to kill them. Hell, maybe they’re right!”

  “Now you’re the one who’s sounding paranoid.”

  “I think I’m the only one who’s making sense.” Gabriel turned and walked out of the trailer.

  He heard the negotiator call out after him: “Agent Dean?”

  Gabriel kept walking, toward the police line.

  “Dean!” At last Stillman caught up with him. “I just want you to know, I didn’t agree to any assault plan. You’re right, it’s just asking for bloodshed.”

  “Then why the hell are you allowing it?”

  “As if I can stop it? Or Hayder? This is now Washington’s call. We’re supposed to stand back and let them take it from here.”

  They heard it then—the sudden buzz through the crowd. The throng of reporters tightened, surged forward.

  What is happening?

  They heard a shout, saw the lobby doors swing open, and a tall African-American man in an orderly’s uniform stepped out, escorted by two Tactical Ops officers. He paused, eyes blinking in the glare of dozens of klieg lights, then he was hurried off toward a waiting vehicle. Seconds later, a man in a wheelchair emerged, pushed by a Boston PD cop.

  “They did it,” Stillman murmured. “They released two people.”

  But not Jane. Jane’s still in there. And the assault could start any minute.

  He pushed toward the police line.

  “Dean,” said Stillman, grabbing his arm.

  Gabriel turned to look at him. “This could all end without a single bullet being fired. Let me go in. Let me talk to them.”

  “The feds will never clear it.”

  “Boston PD controls the perimeter. Order your men to let me through.”

  “It could be a death trap.”

  “My wife is in there.” His gaze locked with Stillman’s. “You know I have to do this. You know this is the best chance she’ll have. The best chance any of them will have.”

  Stillman released a breath. Wearily he nodded. “Good luck.”

  Gabriel ducked under the police tape. A Boston Tac-Ops officer moved to intercept him.

  “Let him pass,” said Stillman. “He’s going into the building.”

  “Sir?”

  “Agent Dean is our new negotiator.”

  Gabriel gave Stillman a nod of thanks. Then he turned and started walking toward the lobby doors.

  NINETEEN

  Mila

  Neither Olena nor I know where we are going.

  We have never walked through these woods, and we don’t know where we will emerge. I wear no stockings, and the cold quickly penetrates my thin shoes. Despite the Mother’s sweater and turtleneck, I am chilled and shivering. The lights of the house have receded behind us, and glancing back, I see only the darkness of woods. On numb feet, I trudge across frozen leaves, keeping my focus on the silhouette of Olena, who walks ahead of me, carrying the tote bag. My breath is like smoke. Ice crackles beneath our shoes. I think of a war movie I once saw in school, of cold and starving German soldiers staggering through the snow to their doom on the Russian front. Don’t stop. Don’t question. Just keep marching was what those desperate soldiers must have been thinking. It’s what I’m thinking now as I stumble through the woods.

  Ahead of us, a light suddenly twinkles.

  Olena halts, holding up her arm to make me stop. We stand as still as the trees, watching as the lights move past, and we hear the whoosh of tires on wet pavement. We push through the last tangle of brush, and our feet hit blacktop.

  We have reached a road.

  By now my feet are so senseless from the cold that I am clumsy and floundering as I try to keep up with her. Olena is like a robot, trudging steadily forward. We begin to see houses, but she doesn’t stop. She is the general, and I’m just the dumb foot soldier, following a woman who knows no more than I do.

  “We can’t walk foreve
r,” I tell her.

  “We can’t stay here, either.”

  “Look, that house has its lights on. We could ask for help.”

  “Not now.”

  “How long are we supposed to keep walking? All night, all week?”

  “As long as we need to.”

  “Do you even know where we’re going?”

  She suddenly turns, the rage so apparent on her face that I freeze. “You know what? I’m sick of you! You’re nothing but a baby. A stupid, scared rabbit.”

  “I just want to know where we’re going.”

  “All you ever do is whine and complain! Well, I’ve had enough. I’m done with you.” She reaches into the tote bag and pulls out the bundle of American money. She breaks the rubber band and thrusts half the cash at me. “Here, take it and get out of my sight. If you’re so smart, go your own way.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I feel hot tears in my eyes. Not because I’m afraid, but because she is my only friend. And I know that I am losing her.

  “You’re a drag on me, Mila. You’ll slow me down. I don’t want to have to watch out for you all the time. I’m not your fucking mother!”

  “I never wanted you to be.”

  “Then why don’t you grow up?”

  “And why don’t you stop being a bitch!”

  The car takes us by surprise. We are so focused on each other that we do not notice its approach. Suddenly it rounds the curve, and the headlights trap us like doomed animals. Tires screech to a stop. It is an old car, and the engine makes knocking noises as it idles.

  The driver sticks his head out the window. “You two ladies need help,” he says. It sounds more like a statement than a question, but then our situation is obvious. A freezing night. Two women stranded on a lonely road. Of course we need help.

  I gape at him, silent. It is Olena who takes command, as she always does. In an instant she has transformed. Her walk, her voice, the provocative way she thrusts out her hip—this is Olena at her most seductive. She smiles and says, in throaty English: “Our car is dead. Can you drive us?”

  The man studies her. Is he just being cautious? Somehow he realizes that something is very wrong here. I am on the edge of retreating back into the woods, before he can call the police.