Die Again (Rizzoli & Isles, #11)(38)

“Angela! Tell her.”

Jane turned to her mother, who stood staring at the floor. “Is this what you want, Ma?”

“It’s gonna be okay, Janie,” Angela said quietly. “It’s gonna work.”

“Like that’s the voice of enthusiasm.”

“I love your mom,” said Frank. “We’re a family, we’ve made a home, and we stay together. That’s what matters.”

Jane looked back and forth at her parents. Her father glared back, ruddy and pugnacious. Her mother didn’t meet her gaze. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she should say, but it was late, and Gabriel was already standing by the front door, holding their sleeping daughter.

“Thanks for babysitting, Ma,” Jane said. “I’ll call you.”

They walked out of the house to the car. Just as Gabriel finished buckling Regina into her car seat, the front door opened and Angela came out of the house, carrying Regina’s stuffed giraffe.

“She’ll scream bloody murder if you forget Benny,” she said, handing the giraffe to Jane.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

Angela hugged herself and glanced back at the house, as if waiting for someone else to answer the question.

“Mom?”

Angela sighed. “It’s the way things have to be. Frankie wants it. So does Mike.”

“My brothers don’t get a say in this. You’re the only one who does.”

“He never signed the divorce papers, Jane. We’re still married, and that means something. It means he never really gave up on us.”

“It means he wanted it both ways.”

“He’s your father.”

“Yeah, and I love him. But I love you, too, and you don’t look happy.”

In the shadowy driveway, she saw her mother attempt a brave smile. “We’re a family. I’ll make this work.”

“What about Vince?”

Just the mention of Korsak’s name made her mother’s smile suddenly crumple. She pressed her hands across her mouth and turned away. “Oh God. Oh God …” As she began to sob, Jane took her into her arms. “I miss him,” said Angela. “I miss him every day. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“Do you love Vince?”

“Yes!”

“Do you love Dad?”

Angela hesitated. “Of course I do.” But the real answer was in that pause, those silent seconds before she could contradict what her heart already knew. She pulled away from Jane, took a deep breath, and straightened. “Don’t you worry about me. Everything’s going to be fine. Now you go home and get that girl to bed, okay?”

Jane watched her mother walk back into the house. Through the window, she saw Angela settle onto the living room sofa opposite Frank, who was still planted in his armchair. Just like the old days, thought Jane. Mom in her corner. Dad in his.





MAURA PAUSED ON THE DRIVEWAY AND LOOKED UP AT THE SOUND OF a cawing crow. Dozens of them sat perched like ominous fruit in the tree above, their black wings flicking against the gray sky. A murder of crows was the correct term for this gathering, and it seemed appropriate on this cold gray afternoon, with thunderclouds moving in and a grim task awaiting her. Crime scene tape had been strung across the pathway leading to the backyard. She ducked under the strand and as she moved across the freshly disturbed soil, she felt the crows watching her, marking every step as they noisily discussed this new intruder in their kingdom. In the backyard, Detectives Darren Crowe and Johnny Tam stood beside a parked backhoe and a damp mound of dirt. As she approached, Tam waved to her with a purple-gloved hand. He was new to the homicide unit, an intense and humorless young detective who’d recently transferred from the Chinatown beat. To his misfortune, he’d been paired with Crowe, who’d driven his former partner Thomas Moore into a much-deserved retirement. A match made in hell, Jane had dubbed it, and the unit was taking bets on how long it would be before the tightly wound Tam finally snapped and hauled off at Crowe. It would be a disastrous career move for Tam, to be sure, but everyone agreed it would be damn satisfying to watch.

Even here in the heavily wooded backyard, with no TV cameras in sight, Crowe was at his GQ best with his movie-star haircut and a suit well tailored to his broad shoulders. He was a man accustomed to sucking up all the attention in a room, and it would be easy to overlook the far quieter Tam. But Tam was the one Maura focused on because she knew she could count on him to deliver the facts, unfiltered and accurate.

Before Tam could speak, Crowe said with a laugh: “I don’t think the homeowners expected to find that in their new swimming pool.”

Maura looked down at a soil-stained skull and rib cage lying in a partially folded blue plastic tarp. One glance at the skull told her the bones were human.

She donned gloves. “What’s the story here?”

“Supposed to be a new swimming pool. Owners bought the house three years ago, hired Lorenzo Construction to do the excavation. Two feet down, they scooped that up. Backhoe driver opened the tarp, freaked out, and called nine one one. Luckily it doesn’t look like he caused much damage with his equipment.”

Maura saw no clothing, no items of jewelry, but she needed neither to determine the sex of the deceased. Crouching down, she studied the skull’s delicate supraorbital ridges. She peeled back the folded tarp, exposing a pelvis with widely flaring ilia. One glance at the femur told her the deceased was not tall, perhaps five foot three at the most.