The Rizzoli & Isles Series 11-Book Bundle

by Tess Gerritsen

He made it. Doug made it, and now we’re going to be saved.

  She gave a shout of joy and let the Suburban’s door slam shut. She could not yet see the plow, but the noise was louder, closer, and she was laughing and crying at the same time. Back to civilization, she thought. Back to hot showers and electric lights and telephones. Most important, back to hospitals.

  Arlo was going to live.

  She scrambled onto the road and stood waiting for her rescuers. Feeling the sun on her face, the joy coursing through her veins. Here is where it all turns out right, she thought. Here is where the nightmare ends.

  Then, through the approaching rumble of the plow, she heard the soft crunch of weight settling onto snow. The sound came from just behind her. She sucked in a startled breath, and it rushed into her lungs like a cold wind. Only then did she see the shadow moving in to engulf hers.

  The watcher in the woods. He’s here.

  TWENTY

  Jane found Daniel Brophy hunched in a booth in the hotel’s empty cocktail lounge. He did not look up at her, but kept his gaze on the table, clearly signaling that he wanted to be alone.

  She sat down anyway. “We missed you at lunch,” she said. “Did you get something to eat?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “I’m still waiting to hear back from Queenan. But I don’t think he has anything new to tell us today.”

  He nodded, still not looking at her. Still giving off signals of Go away. I don’t want to talk. Even in the forgiving gloom of the lounge, he looked visibly older. Weary and beaten down.

  “Daniel,” she said. “I’m not going to give up. And neither should you.”

  “We’ve driven through five counties,” he said. “Talked on the air with six radio stations. Watched every minute of those surveillance videos.”

  “There could be something we missed. Something we’ll spot if we watch them again.”

  “She looked happy in those videos. Didn’t she?” He raised his head and she saw torment in his eyes. “She looked happy with that man.”

  After a silence, Jane admitted: “Yeah. She did.”

  The surveillance cameras had caught several glimpses of Maura and the blond man in the lobby. But the views had been fleeting, each time only a few seconds at the most, and then she’d slipped out of sight. It was like watching a ghost, viewing those images on the monitor. A phantom reliving her last moments on earth again and again.

  “We don’t know what any of it means,” Jane said. “He could be an old acquaintance.”

  “Someone who made her smile.”

  “This was a medical conference. A bunch of pathologists who probably knew each other. Maybe he had nothing to do with why she went missing.”

  “Or maybe Queenan’s right. And they’re holed up together in some hotel right now, having hot, crazy …” He stopped.

  “At least it would mean she’s alive.”

  “Yes. It would mean that.”

  They both fell silent. It was only three PM, too early for cocktails. Except for a bartender stacking glasses behind the counter, they were the only ones in the gloomy lounge.

  “If she did go off with another man,” said Jane quietly, “you can understand why it might happen.”

  “I blame myself,” he said. “For not being that man. And I can’t help wondering …”

  “What?”

  “If she flew out here with plans to meet him.”

  “Do you have any reason to think that?”

  “Look at the way they smiled at each other. How comfortable they seemed.”

  “They might be old friends.” Or old lovers was what she didn’t say. She didn’t need to; that thought must be tormenting him as well. “These are just theories, based on nothing,” she said. “All we have is the video of her going out to dinner with him. Meeting him in the lobby.”

  “And smiling.” Pain darkened his eyes. “I couldn’t do that for her. I couldn’t give her what she needed.”

  “What she needs now is for us not to give up hope. To keep looking for her. I’m not going to give up.”

  “Tell me the truth.” He met her gaze. “You’ve been a homicide cop long enough to know. What do your instincts tell you?”

  “Instincts can be wrong.”

  “If she weren’t a friend, if this was just another missing persons case, what would you be thinking right now?”

  She hesitated, and the only sound in the lounge was the clink of glassware as the bartender tidied up behind the counter, prepping for the upcoming cocktail hour.

  “After this much time?” She shook her head. “I’d be forced to consider the worst.”

  He didn’t seem surprised by her answer. By now he would have reached the same conclusion.

  Her cell phone rang and they both froze. She glanced at the number. Queenan. As soon as she heard his voice on the line, she knew this was not a call that he wanted to be making. Nor a call that she wanted to receive.

  “I’m sorry to have to break the news,” he said.

  “What is it?”

  “You should head over to Saint John’s Medical Center in Jackson. Dr. Draper will meet you there.”

  “Dr. Draper? You mean the Sublette County Coroner?”

  “Yes. Because that’s where it happened, in Sublette County.” There was a long and agonizing pause. “I’m afraid they found your friend.”

  ———

  “I think it’s best that you not see her,” Dr. Draper said, somberly facing Maura’s three friends across the conference table. “You should remember her the way she was. I’m sure she would want it that way as well.”

  St. John’s was built to serve the living, not the dead, and through the closed door of the conference room they could hear the sounds of a normal day in a hospital: ringing phones, the chime of an elevator, the far-off wails of an infant in the ER. The sounds reminded Jane that, in the aftermath of tragedy, life still went on.

  “The vehicle was discovered only this morning, off a backcountry road,” said Draper. “We can’t be certain how long it was lying in that ravine. There was a lot of damage from the fire. And afterward, from animal …” He paused. “It’s a wilderness area.”

  He didn’t need to elaborate. Jane knew what he was leaving out. In the natural world, creatures always lurked in Death’s shadow, waiting to feed with beaks and claws and sharp teeth. Even in Boston’s suburban parks, a corpse would attract dogs and raccoons, rats and turkey vultures. In the rugged mountains of western Wyoming, there would be an even larger host of scavengers waiting to feast, scavengers that could gnaw off a face and detach a hand and scatter limbs. Jane thought of Maura’s ivory skin and regal cheekbones, and she wondered what remained of those features. No, I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to know what has become of her face.

  “If the remains were so badly damaged, how did you make the identification?” asked Gabriel. He, at least, was still thinking like an investigator, still able to focus on what needed to be asked.

  “There was sufficient evidence at the crash site to make an ID.”

  “Evidence?”

  “When the vehicle went into the ravine, a number of items were ejected from it. Several suitcases and other personal belongings that survived the fire.” He reached for the large cardboard box that he’d brought into the room. The smell of scorched plastic escaped as he lifted the lid. Although the items inside were sealed in evidence bags, the stench of fire and smoke was potent enough to penetrate even a ziplock bag. He paused for a moment, staring into the box, as though suddenly wondering if it might be a mistake to share the contents. But it was too late now to close it, to deny them the proof that he had promised. He pulled out the first evidence bag and set it on the desk.

  Through the clear plastic, they could see a leather luggage tag. Flipping it over, Draper revealed the name written in neat block letters.

  MAURA ISLES, MD.

  “I take it that’s her correct address on the tag?” he asked.

  Jane swa
llowed. “Yes,” she murmured. She did not dare glance at Daniel, who was sitting beside her. She didn’t want to see the devastation on his face.

  “That was attached to one of the suitcases that was thrown from the vehicle,” said Draper. “You can examine the suitcase itself if you’d like. It’s in the custody of the Sublette County Sheriff’s Department, along with the larger items.” Reaching into the box, he pulled out other evidence bags and laid them on the table. There were two cell phones, one of them scorched. Another luggage tag, this one with the name Douglas Comley, MD. A man’s toilet case. A prescription bottle of lovastatin for a patient named Arlo Zielinski.

  “The Suburban was rented by a Dr. Douglas Comley from San Diego,” said Draper. “He’d reserved it for ten days. We assume it was Dr. Comley who was behind the wheel when the vehicle went off the edge. The road makes a sharp curve there, and if it was nighttime, or snow was falling, visibility would have been poor. An icy road could have been a contributing factor as well.”

  “Then you assume it was an accident,” said Gabriel.

  Draper frowned. “As opposed to what?”

  “There are always other possibilities to consider.”

  The coroner sighed. “Given your line of work, Agent Dean, I suppose it’s natural that you’d be thinking of those other possibilities. But Sheriff Fahey concluded that this was an accident. I’ve already looked at the X-rays. The bodies have multiple fractures, which is what you’d expect. There are no bullet fragments, nothing to indicate anything other than what seems to have happened. The vehicle simply veered off a mountain road. It plunged fifty feet into a ravine, where it caught fire. I doubt any of the passengers survived the initial crash, so I think it’s safe to assume that your friend died on impact.”

  “There was a snowstorm last Saturday, wasn’t there?” asked Gabriel.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “If there’s heavy snow on the vehicle, it might tell us when this happened.”

  “I saw only a light dusting,” said Draper. “But then, the fire would have melted any snow cover.”

  “Or the accident happened more recently.”

  “But that still begs the question of where your friend has been for the last seven days. Time of death is going to be almost impossible to determine. I’m inclined to go by when the victims were last seen alive, which would make it Saturday.” He looked around the table at their troubled faces. “I realize this leaves many questions unanswered. But at least now you know what happened, and you can go home with a feeling of closure. You know her death was quick, and she probably didn’t suffer.” He sighed. “I’m so sorry it turned out this way.”

  Draper rose to his feet, looking older and wearier than he had just half an hour earlier, when they’d first walked in. Even when the grief is not your own, merely being in its vicinity can drain the soul, and Draper had probably seen many lifetimes’ worth of it. “Let me walk you out.”

  “May we view the remains?” asked Gabriel.

  Draper frowned at him. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  “But I think it needs to be done.”

  Jane almost hoped that Draper would refuse, would spare her from the ordeal. She knew what Maura had looked like alive; once she viewed what Maura had become, there’d be no erasing that image, no turning back the clock on the horror. Looking at her husband, she wondered how he could stay so calm.

  “Let me show you the X-rays,” said Draper. “Maybe that will be enough to convince you of my findings.”

  Gabriel said to Brophy: “It’s better if you wait here.”

  Daniel nodded and remained where he was, his head bowed, alone with his grief.

  As Jane and Gabriel followed Draper to the elevator, she felt dread bubbling like acid in her stomach. I don’t want to see this, she thought. I don’t need to see this. But Gabriel kept striding ahead purposefully, and she was too proud not to follow him. When they stepped into the morgue, she was relieved to see that the autopsy table was empty, the cadavers safely stored out of sight.

  Draper shuffled through a bundle of X-rays and clipped several films onto the viewing box. He flipped a switch, and skeletal images appeared against the glow.

  “As you can see, there’s ample evidence of trauma,” said Draper. “Fractures of the skull, multiple ribs. Impaction of the left femur into the hip joint. Because of the fire, the limbs have contracted into a pugilistic posture.” His voice assumed the matter-of-fact drone of a professional conveying data to colleagues. As if, by the act of entering this room and seeing the cool gleam of stainless steel, he had stepped into the uniform of a coroner. “I e-mailed these images to our forensic pathologist in Colorado. He concluded that this is a female between thirty and forty-five. Her estimated height is five foot five or five foot six. And judging by the sacroiliac joint, she was nulliparous. She never gave birth.” He paused and looked at Jane. “Would that describe your friend?”

  Numbly, Jane nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “And she’s had very good dental care. There’s a crown here on the lower right molar. Several fillings.” Again, he looked at Jane, as though she was the one with all the answers.

  Jane stared at the jaw glowing on the light box. How would I know? She hadn’t studied Maura’s mouth, hadn’t counted her crowns and fillings. Maura was her colleague and her friend. Not a collection of teeth and bones.

  “I’m sorry,” said Draper. “That was probably too much information for you to deal with. I just wanted you to feel confident about the identification.”

  “Then there won’t be an autopsy,” said Jane softly.

  Draper shook his head. “There’s no reason for one. The pathologist in Colorado is satisfied with the ID. We have her luggage tag, and the X-rays match a woman of her age and height. These injuries are consistent with what you’d find in an unrestrained passenger subjected to high-speed deceleration.”

  It took a few seconds for Jane to register what he’d said. She blinked away tears and the X-ray hanging on the light box suddenly came back into focus. “An unrestrained passenger?” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you saying she wasn’t wearing a seat belt?”

  “That’s correct. None of the deceased was wearing a seat belt.”

  “That can’t be right. Maura would never forget to buckle her seat belt. That’s the kind of person she was.”

  “I’m afraid this time, she neglected to do so. At any rate, wearing a seat belt probably wouldn’t have saved her. Not in an accident this traumatic.”

  “That’s not the point. The point is, something’s wrong here,” said Jane. “It’s completely out of character for her.”

  Draper sighed and flipped off the viewing light. “Detective, I know it must be hard to accept the death of a close friend. Whether she was belted in or not, it doesn’t change the fact that she is dead.”

  “But how did it happen? Why?”

  “Does it really make a difference?” Draper said quietly.

  “Yes.” Again, she felt tears prickle her eyes. “It doesn’t make sense to me. I need to understand.”

  “Jane,” said Gabriel. “It may never make sense. We’ll just have to accept it.” Gently he took her arm. “I think we’ve seen enough. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

  “Not yet.” She pulled away from him. “There’s something else I need to see.”

  “If you insist on viewing the remains,” said Draper, “I can show them to you. But you won’t be able to recognize anything. There’s not much except charred flesh and bone.” He paused and said softly: “Trust me. You’re better off not seeing her. Just take her home.”

  “He’s right,” said Gabriel. “We don’t need to look at the body.”

  “Not the body.” She took a breath and straightened. “I want to see the crash site. I want to see where it happened.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  A light snow was falling the next morning when Gabriel and Jane stepped out of their car and walked to the edge
of the road. There they stood in silence, staring down into the ravine where the burned hulk of the Suburban was still lodged. A path of trampled snow marked the winding trail that the recovery team had hiked down the day before to retrieve the bodies. It would have been an exhausting climb back up to the road, carrying the stretchers up switchbacks, boots sliding on icy rocks.

  “I want to get closer,” she said, starting down the trail.

  “There’s nothing down there to look at.”

  “I owe it to her. I need to see where she died.” She kept walking, her gaze focused on the slippery path. Beneath the fresh dusting of powder, the snow was icy and treacherous, and she had to move slowly. Her thighs soon ached from the steep descent, and melting snowflakes, mingled with her sweat, trickled down her cheeks. She began to spot debris from the crash, scattered down the slope: a fragment of twisted metal, a lone tennis shoe, a scrap of blue cloth, all of it starting to vanish now beneath fresh powder. By the time she finally reached the blackened vehicle, it was covered by a light coating of snow. The scent of fire still hung in that cold and pristine air, and she could see the scars left by the fire: the charred bushes and the scorched pine branches. She thought of the Suburban’s terrifying trajectory as it plummeted off the cliff. Imagined the shrieks as the last split seconds of life flashed before Maura’s eyes.

  She halted, releasing a shaken breath as she watched falling snow slowly erase the ugly evidence of death. Footsteps crunched closer, and Gabriel came to a stop beside her.

  “It’s so hard to believe,” Jane said. “You wake up in the morning, thinking it’ll just be another day. You get in a car with some friends. And suddenly it’s over. Everything you knew and thought and felt, in an instant, it’s all gone.”

  He drew her close beside him. “That’s why we have to enjoy every minute.”

  She brushed snow off the vehicle, revealing a streak of blackened metal. “You never know, do you? Which little decision will end up changing your life. If she hadn’t come to this conference, she wouldn’t have met Doug Comley. She wouldn’t have climbed into his truck.” Abruptly she lifted her hand from the Suburban, as though the touch of it burned her. Staring at the ruined truck, she imagined the last days in Maura’s life. They now knew it was Comley whom they’d seen with Maura on the surveillance tape. They’d viewed his photograph on the staff physician website of the San Diego hospital where he’d worked as a pathologist. Forty-two years old, a divorced single father, he’d been an attendee at the same medical conference. Attractive man spots equally attractive woman, and nature takes its course. Dinner, conversation, all sorts of possibilities swirling in their heads. Any woman would be tempted, even a woman as levelheaded as Maura. What kind of future, after all, could Daniel Brophy promise her, except a lifetime of furtive meetings and disappointments and regrets? If Daniel had given her what she needed, Maura wouldn’t have strayed. She wouldn’t have joined Douglas Comley on his doomed excursion.