Die Again (Rizzoli & Isles, #11)(92)

“Maura, don’t move!” Jane commanded.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Come toward me. Slowly. Don’t. Run.”

They still had their guns pointed in her direction, but their gazes weren’t focused on her. They were staring at something behind her. Every hair instantly stood up on her neck.

She turned and looked straight into amber eyes. For a few heartbeats she and the tiger regarded each other, predator and prey, locked in a stare. Then Maura realized she was not the only one facing him. Jane had stepped forward, was even now moving past her, to place herself between Maura and the tiger.

Confused by this new aggressor, the animal took a step back.

“Do it, Oberlin!” yelled Jane. “Do it now!”

There was a sharp pop. The tiger flinched as the tranquilizer dart pierced his shoulder. He didn’t retreat but stood his ground, eyes fixed on Jane.

“Hit him again!” ordered Jane.

“No,” said Oberlin. “I don’t want to kill him! Give the drug time to work.”

The tiger sagged sideways, caught himself. Began to stagger in a drunken circle.

“There, he’s going down!” said Oberlin. “A few more seconds and he’ll—” Oberlin stopped as screams erupted from the public pathway. People sprinted past, scattering in panic.

“Cougar!” came a shriek. “The cougar’s out!”

“What the f*ck is going on?” said Jane.

“It’s Rhodes,” said Maura. “He’s letting the cats loose!”

Frantically Oberlin reloaded his tranquilizer gun. “Get everyone out! We need to evacuate!”

The public didn’t need to be coaxed. Already they were fleeing toward the exits in a stampede of hysterical parents and screaming children. The Bengal tiger was down, collapsed in a heap of fur, but the cougar—where was the cougar?

“Get to the exit, Maura,” Jane ordered.

“What about you?”

“I’m staying with Oberlin. We need to find that cat. Go.”

As Maura joined the exodus, she kept glancing over her shoulder. She remembered how intently the cougar had watched her on her last visit, and he could be tracking her now, tracking anyone. She almost stumbled over a toddler who lay screaming on the pavement. Scooping him up, she glanced around for his mother and spotted a young woman who was frantically scanning the crowd as she juggled an infant and a diaper bag.

“I’ve got him!” Maura called out.

“Oh my God, there you are! Oh my God …”

“I’ll carry him. Just keep moving!”

The exit was mobbed with people shoving through the turnstiles, vaulting across barriers. Then a zoo employee hauled open a gate and the crowd surged out, spilling like a tidal wave into the parking lot. Maura handed the toddler to his mother and stationed herself by the turnstiles to wait for news from Jane.

Half an hour later, her phone rang.

“You okay?” Jane asked.

“I’m standing at the exit. What about the cougar?”

“He’s down. Oberlin had to hit him with two darts, but the cat’s back in his cage. Jesus, what a disaster.” She paused. “Rhodes got away. In all the chaos, he slipped out with the crowd.”

“How did you know it was him?”

“Fourteen years ago, he attended the same college that Natalie Toombs did. I don’t have the proof yet, but I’m guessing Natalie was one of his early kills. Maybe his very first one. You were the one who saw it, Maura.”

“All I saw was—”

“The gestalt, as you called it. The big picture. It was all about the pattern of his kills. Leon Gott. Natalie Toombs. The backpackers, the hunters. God, I should have listened to you.”

Maura shook her head, confused. “What about the Botswana murders? Rhodes doesn’t look anything like Johnny Posthumus. How is that connected?”

“I don’t think they are.”

“And Millie? Does she fit into the picture at all?”

Over the phone, she heard Jane sigh. “Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe I’ve been wrong about the whole thing.”





“BREAK IT,” JANE SAID TO FROST.

Glass shattered, shards flying into the house, spilling across the tiled floor. In seconds she and Frost were through the door and inside Alan Rhodes’s kitchen. Weapon drawn, Jane caught rapid-fire glimpses of dishes stacked in the drying rack, a pristine countertop, a stainless-steel refrigerator. Everything looked orderly and clean—too clean.

She and Frost moved down the hallway, into the living room, Jane in the lead. She looked left, looked right, saw no movement, no signs of life. She saw bookshelves, a sofa and coffee table. Not a thing out of place, not even a stray magazine. The home of a bachelor with OCD.

From the foot of the stairway she peered up toward the second floor, trying to listen through the pounding of her own heart. It was quiet upstairs, as silent as the grave.

Frost took the lead as they moved up the stairs. Though the house was chilly, her blouse was already damp with sweat. The most dangerous animal is the one who’s trapped, and by now Rhodes must realize this was the end game. They reached the second-floor landing. Three doorways ahead. Glancing through the first, she saw a bedroom, sparsely furnished. No dust, no clutter. Did a real human actually live in this house? She eased toward the closet, yanked it open. Empty hangers swayed on the rod.