The Silent Girl

malodorous hours together, bending over corpses that had been found in various stages of decomposition. Gabriel was already wearing a gown and shoe covers, and his face was focused and grim as he pulled on gloves and approached the table.

“This is the man from the alley?” he asked bluntly. “The one who almost killed you?”

“Hello to you, too, sweetheart,” said Jane. She looked at Tam. “In case you’re wondering who this crasher is, this is my husband, Gabriel. And I have no idea why he’s here.”

Gabriel’s attention remained fixed on the cadaver. “What do we know about him so far?”

“We? Since when did you join the team?” asked Jane.

“Since this man took a shot at you.”

“Gabriel.” She sighed. “We can talk about it later.”

“The time to talk about it is now.”

She stared at her husband, trying to understand what was happening here. Trying to read his face, stony under the glare of morgue lights. “What is this all about?”

“It’s about fingerprints.”

“We’ve gotten nothing back on him from AFIS.”

“I’m talking about Jane Doe’s fingerprints. The woman on the rooftop.”

“We didn’t get any match on hers, either,” said Maura. “She’s not in the FBI database.”

“I sent a black notice to Interpol,” he said. “Because it’s clear to me this is adding up to something bigger. A lot bigger. Think of how Jane Doe was dressed. The weapon she was carrying. The fact she had no ID and was driving a stolen vehicle.” He looked at the corpse. “Like this man.”

“You’ve heard back from Interpol?” said Jane.

He nodded. “An hour ago. She’s in their database. Not her name, but her fingerprints. They turned up on components of a car bomb that exploded in London two years ago. It killed the driver, an American businessman.”

“Are we talking about terrorism?” asked Tam.

“Interpol believes the bomb was a hit by organized crime. A paid assassination. Your woman on the rooftop was clearly a professional, and I’m guessing this man was, as well.” He looked at Jane. “A Kevlar vest isn’t going to save you, Jane. Not against people like this.”

Jane gave a startled laugh. “Man, we really hit the jackpot, didn’t we?”

“You have a daughter,” said Gabriel. “We have a daughter. Think about this.”

“What’s there to think about?”

“Whether Boston PD can handle this.”

“Hold it right there. Can we take this into the next room, please?” She glanced at her colleagues. “Excuse me,” she muttered and pushed through the swinging door. It wasn’t until she and Gabriel were in the hallway and out of earshot that she blurted out: “What do you think you’re doing here?”

“I’m trying to keep my wife alive.”

“This is my turf, okay? I decide what happens here.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re dealing with?”

“I’m going to figure it out.”

“In the meantime, you’re taking bullets and collecting dead bodies.”

“Yeah. It’s turning into quite a collection.”

“Including a cop. Ingersoll knew how to defend himself, and now he’s in a body bag.”

“So you want me to drop out? Run home and hide under the bed?” She snorted. “That is so not going to happen.”

“Who brings in professional killers, Jane? Anyone who’d hire a hit on an ex-cop is not afraid of Boston PD. He’s not afraid of you. This has got to be organized crime. The Russian mob. Or Chinese-”

“Kevin Donohue,” she said.

Gabriel paused. “Irish mafia?”

“We’re already digging for dirt on him. One of his men named Joey Gilmore died in the Chinatown massacre. Gilmore’s mother believes it was really a paid hit on her son, ordered by Donohue. Ingersoll was the lead detective on that massacre.”

“If it’s Donohue, he has a very long reach. Maybe into Boston PD itself.”

She stared at her husband. “Can the Bureau back up that charge?”

“There’s not enough evidence to make it stick. But I’ll tell you now, he’s not someone you want to fuck with, Jane. If he has a channel into Boston PD, he already knows exactly what you’re up to. He knows you’re coming for him.”

She thought about all the police officers who’d turned up at Ingersoll’s residence last night, including Lieutenant Marquette himself. How many cops had been watching her, keeping tabs on what she said, what she planned? How much of that information had leaked to Donohue?

“Last night was a gift,” said Gabriel. “You survived. Maybe you should take that gift home and savor it for a while.”

“Drop out of this case? Is that what you’re asking me to do?”

“Take a leave of absence. You need time to recover.”

“Don’t.” She stepped so close she had to crane her neck to stare him in the eye. Gabriel didn’t back down; he never did. “I don’t need to hear this from you,” she said. “Not now.”

“Then when am I going to say it? At your funeral?”

Her ringing cell phone cut into the silence between them. Snatching it up, she answered with a curt “Rizzoli.”

“Um, is this a bad time, Detective?”

“Who is this?”

“Erin. In the crime lab.”

Jane huffed out a breath. “Sorry. What do you have for me?”

“Remember those weird hairs on Jane Doe’s clothes? The ones I couldn’t identify?”

“Yeah. The gray ones.”

“I can’t wait to tell you what they are.”

THE CONVERSATION WITH GABRIEL was still weighing on Jane’s mind as she and Frost drove together to Schroeder Plaza. He knew her moods well enough to stay silent for most of the drive, but as she turned into the parking garage, he said wistfully: “I miss that part about being married.”

“Which part?” she said.

“The part about having someone worry about you. Hassle you about not taking any risks.”

“That’s supposed to be a good thing?”

“Well, isn’t it? It means he loves you. It means he doesn’t want to lose you.”

“What it means is I have to fight battles on two fronts. Do my job while Gabriel tries to tie me into a straitjacket.”

“What if he didn’t? Do you ever think of that? What it’d be like to not have him care enough to say anything? What it’d be like to not be married at all?”

She pulled into a parking space and shut off the engine. “He doesn’t want me working on this case.”

“I’m not sure I want to be working on it, either. After what we’ve both been through.”

She looked at him. “Scares you?”

“I’m not afraid to admit it.”

They heard a door slam, and both turned to see Tam step out of his car a few spaces away. “Bet it doesn’t scare him,” she muttered. “I don’t think anything rattles Bruce Lee over there.”

“It’s got to be an act. He’d be crazy not to be scared of Donohue and his boys.”

Jane pushed open her door. “Come on, before someone thinks we’re making out in here or something.”

By the time they reached the crime lab, Tam was already sitting at Erin Volchko’s microscope, peering at a slide.

“There you two are,” said Erin. “Detective Tam and I were just looking at some sample primate hair strands.”

“Any of them look like the hairs from our gal?” asked Jane.