Freaks: A Rizzoli & Isles Short Story

“It’s one mechanism,” said Maura.

“So what else would cause a swollen face?”

“An allergic reaction. Anaphylaxis.” Above the surgical mask, Maura’s forehead suddenly wrinkled into a frown. “Or Latrodectus facies,” she said softly.

“Come again?”

Maura didn’t answer, but reached for a magnifying glass. Bending close, she turned the girl’s head to expose the side of the neck. Staring at the skin, she murmured: “My God, it’s so small I almost missed it.”

“What?”

“A puncture mark.”

Frost’s cell phone suddenly rang.

Maura’s focus remained glued to the corpse’s throat. She turned the head the other way to examine the opposite side of the neck. “There’s another one here.”

“You mean, like needle marks to draw blood?”

“No, like—”

“Rizzoli, we gotta go!” yelled Frost. “St. Anthony’s Church.”

“What’s going on?”

“The girl’s father. He’s taken Lucas Henry hostage, and he’s threatening to kill him!”

Chapter Nine

Four Boston PD cruisers were parked in front of St. Anthony’s, rack lights flashing as Jane and Frost scrambled out of their car and ran toward the church.

“He’s got the boy inside,” a patrolman reported. “We have all the entrances covered, and we’ve been trying to talk him out, but he’s not cooperating.”

“Let me talk to him,” said Jane, pulling on a Kevlar vest.

“Ma’am, he’s already fired off a few rounds. That’s how we got the call, when someone in the neighborhood reported gunfire.”

“Is the boy okay?”

“He was able to answer us. Other than that, I don’t know.” The patrolman looked her up and down, as though questioning her ability to deal with the situation. “There’s a team on the way. I don’t think you should —”

“I know Rayner. I’m the one who should do this.” Jane started toward the church entrance. “Mr. Rayner!” she yelled through the door. “It’s Detective Rizzoli. I want to talk to you!”

From inside came Rayner’s shout: “Don’t bother! It won’t make a difference!”

At least he wasn’t issuing threats. “I’m opening the door now,” she announced. “I’m coming in alone.” There was no answer. She took a breath and stepped over the threshold.

It was gloomy inside, lit only by the distant flicker of a burning candle. She could not see Rayner or Lucas, but she could hear the boy’s terrified whimpers somewhere in the shadows. Bat wings flapped overhead.

“He’s crazy!” Lucas sobbed. “He broke in here while I was sleeping. Says he’s going to kill me.”

Jane’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she could see them now. Lucas sat huddled against a pew, and Rayner stood over him, his weapon pointed at the boy’s head.

“Let him go,” said Jane. “This doesn’t help anyone.”

“It’s justice,” said Rayner. “That’s worth something.”

“Is it worth your own life?”

“Someone has to pay. We both know he killed her.”

“I didn’t!” wailed Lucas. “I keep telling you that!”

Jane said, “If the boy’s guilty, let the courts prove it.”

“They won’t,” said Rayner. “You said last night there’s no proof. There’ll never be enough proof. My girl’s gone, and he’ll walk away free and clear.”

Even in the gloom, Jane could see Rayner’s arm straighten as his hand tightened around the grip. As she drew her own weapon, her cell phone rang. All three of them froze, caught on the threshold of violence. She let the phone keep ringing as she kept her gaze on Rayner.

“If Lucas killed her,” Jane said, “I swear I’ll find a way to prove it. And he will go to prison.”

She and Rayner stared at each other in the gloom. Now another phone began to ring, but this time it wasn’t hers—it was Rayner’s. Without breaking eye contact, he answered it. “Hello?” There was a long silence, then he bent down and slid the phone across the floor toward Jane. “It’s for you.”

Baffled, Jane picked it up. “Rizzoli.”

Maura answered. “Jane, I’m standing right outside. The boy didn’t do it!”

“Then who did?”

“The killer’s inside that church. With you.”

Chapter Ten

Maura’s footsteps echoed across the stone floor as she approached them through the shadows. “I’m alone,” she called out. “And I’m not armed. All I have is a flashlight, and I’m going to turn it on.”

“What the hell’s going on?” Rayner demanded.

“I’m Dr. Maura Isles, the medical examiner. I performed your daughter’s autopsy, and I can prove that Lucas Henry didn’t kill her.”

“How the hell can you prove that?”

“By showing you the real killer.” Maura’s flashlight came on, and Jane squinted at the sudden glare of the beam. “Lucas, tell me where Kimberly was sleeping.”

The boy’s voice was shaky in the darkness. “I couldn’t find a coffin for her. So we dragged in that cardboard box. Over there.”

Maura’s flashlight beam swept the shadows and came to a stop on a giant appliance carton. She approached it and read the shipping label. “This box was sent from North Carolina.”

“So what?” said Rayner.

She bent down and stared into the carton. “Jane, do you want to come take a look?”

Jane crouched down beside her and whispered: “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“I told you. Identifying the killer.” Maura aimed her flashlight beam into the box, scanning past rumpled blankets and a stained pillow, to focus on the corner above. “There’s our perp.”

Jane stared at the gossamer web, and the creature that had woven it. “A spider?”

“Genus Latrodectus. A black widow. It probably hitched a ride from North Carolina and bit the victim while she was sleeping in this box. She may not have even felt the bite. In most healthy adults, the poison’s not fatal, but Kimberly was not a healthy adult. She was malnourished and medically fragile.” Maura’s voice dropped so that only Jane could hear her next words. “Death would have been excruciating. Muscle spasms, abdominal pain, followed by respiratory arrest. No wonder passersby heard her screaming.”

Jane rose to her feet and turned to Rayner. “Your daughter wasn’t murdered, sir. It was a spider bite. A freak death. And the killer’s right here, in this box.”

Slowly the man lowered his weapon. Even as Jane took it away and handcuffed him, Rayner stood motionless, his head bowed. “I only wanted justice,” he said. “Justice for my little girl.”

“And you’ll have it, Mr. Rayner,” said Jane. “In this case, all it takes is the heel of a shoe.”