Vanish

make up your mind.”

Stillman said, “I’m listening, Joe. The problem is, a live feed isn’t something I can just pull off. I need the cooperation of a TV station. How about we make it a taped statement? We deliver a camcorder to you. You say whatever you want, take as long as you need to-”

“And then you bury the tape, right? It’ll never see the light of day.”

“That’s my offer, Joe.”

“We both know you can do better. So does everyone else standing in that command trailer with you.”

“Live TV is out of the question.”

“Then we have nothing more to say to you. Good-bye.”

“Wait-”

“Yes?”

“You’re serious? About releasing hostages?”

“If you keep up your end of the bargain. We want a cameraman and a reporter to witness what happens here. A real reporter, not some cop with a fake press pass.”

“Do it,” said Gabriel. “This may be the way to end it.”

Stillman covered the receiver. “Live TV is not on the table, Agent Dean. It never is.”

“Goddamn it, if this is what it takes, give it to them!”

“Leroy?” It was Joe talking again. “Are you still there?”

Stillman took a breath. He said: “Joe, you have to understand. It’s going to take time. We’d have to find a reporter who’s willing to do this. Someone willing to risk his life-”

“There’s only one reporter we’ll talk to.”

“Wait. You didn’t specify anyone.”

“He knows the background. He’s done his homework.”

“We can’t guarantee that this reporter will-”

“Peter Lukas, BostonTribune. Call him.”

“Joe-”

There was a click, then the dial tone. Stillman looked at Hayder. “We’re not sending in any civilians. It will just give them more hostages.”

“He said he’d release two people first,” said Gabriel.

“You believe that?”

“One of them might be my wife.”

“How do we know this reporter will even agree to it?”

“For what could be the biggest story of his life? A journalist just might do it.”

Barsanti said, “I think there’s another question here that no one’s answered. Who the hell is Peter Lukas? A Boston Tribune reporter? Why ask for him in particular?”

“Let’s call him,” said Stillman. “Maybe he knows.”

TWELVE

You’re still alive. You have to be alive. I would know it, feel it, if you weren’t.

Wouldn’t I?

Gabriel slumped on the couch in Maura’s office, his head resting in his hands, trying to think of what else he could do, but fear kept clouding any logic. As a marine, he had never lost his cool under fire. Now he could not even focus, could not shut out the image that had haunted him since the autopsy, of a different body lying on the table.

Did I ever tell you how much I love you?

He did not hear the door open. Only when Maura sat down in the chair across from him, and set two mugs on the coffee table, did he finally raise his head. She’s always composed, always in control, he thought, looking at Maura. So unlike his brash and temperamental wife. Two such different women, yet somehow they had forged a friendship that he did not quite understand.

Maura pointed to the coffee. “You like it black, right?”

“Yes. Thanks.” He took a sip, then set it down again, because he had not really wanted it.

“Did you eat any lunch?” she asked.

He rubbed his face. “I’m not hungry.”

“You look exhausted. I’ll get you a blanket, if you’d like to rest here for a while.”

“There’s no way I can sleep. Not until she’s out of there.”

“Did you reach her parents?”

“Oh god.” He shook his head. “That was an ordeal. The hardest part was convincing them they had to keep it a secret. They can’t show up here, they can’t call their friends. I almost wonder if I should have kept it from them.”

“The Rizzolis would want to know.”

“But they’re not good at keeping secrets. And if this one gets out, it could kill their daughter.”

They sat for a moment in silence. The only sound was the hiss of cool air blowing from the AC vent. On the wall behind the desk were elegantly framed floral prints. The office reflected the woman: neat, precise, cerebral.

She said, quietly: “Jane’s a survivor. We both know that. She’ll do whatever it takes to stay alive.”

“I just want her to stay out of the line of fire.”

“She’s not stupid.”

“The problem is, she’s a cop.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“How many cops get killed trying to be heroes?”

“She’s pregnant. She won’t take any chances.”

“No?” He looked at her. “Do you know how she ended up in the hospital this morning? She was testifying in court when the defendant got out of control. And my wife-my brilliant wife-jumped into the fight to subdue him. That’s when her water broke.”

Maura looked appropriately shocked. “She really did that?”

“That’s exactly what you’d expect Jane to do.”

“I guess you’re right,” Maura said with a shake of the head. “That’s the Jane we both know and love.”

“For once, just this once, I want her to play the coward. I want her to forget she’s a cop.” He laughed. “As if she’d ever listen to me.”

Maura couldn’t help smiling as well. “Does she ever?”

He looked at her. “You know how we met, don’t you?”

“Stony Brook Reservation, wasn’t it?”

“That death scene. It took us about thirty seconds to get into our first argument.