Body Double: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

universe.
Alice Rose. Rose Purvis.
One girl long dead, the other just beginning her life. Yet another thread, however fragile, that connected the lives of two girls across the decades.
    “Did you have more questions for me?” Mattie asked.
    “Well, actually . . .” Rizzoli pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down. “I asked you so many things yesterday, Mattie. But I never asked you how you did it. How you managed.”
    “Managed?”
    “To stay sane. To not give up.”
    The smile on Mattie’s lips faded. She looked at Rizzoli with wide, haunted eyes and murmured: “I don’t know how I did it. I never imagined I could ever . . .” She stopped. “I wanted to live, that’s all. I wanted my baby to live.”
    They were quiet for a moment.
    Then Rizzoli said: “I should warn you about the press. They’re all going to want a piece of you. I had to walk through a whole mob of them outside. So far, the hospital’s managed to keep them away from you, but when you get home, it’s going to be a different story. Especially since . . .” Rizzoli paused.
    “Since what?”
    “I just want you to be prepared, that’s all. Don’t let anyone rush you into something you don’t want to do.”
    Mattie frowned. Then her gaze lifted to the muted TV, where the noon news was playing. “He’s been on every channel,” she said.
    On the screen, Dwayne Purvis stood before a sea of microphones. Mattie reached for the TV remote and turned up the volume.
    “This is the happiest day of my life,” Dwayne said to the crowd of reporters. “I have my wonderful wife and daughter back. It’s been an ordeal I can’t even begin to describe. A nightmare that none of you could possibly imagine. Thank God, thank
God
for happy endings.”
    Mattie pressed the OFF button. But her gaze remained on the blank TV. “It doesn’t feel real,” she said. “It’s like it never happened. That’s why I can sit here and be so calm about it, because I don’t believe I was really there, in that box.”
    “You were, Mattie. It’s going to take time for you to process it. You might have nightmares. Flashbacks. You’ll step into an elevator, or look into a closet, and suddenly you’ll feel like you’re back in the box again. But it will get better, I promise you. Just remember that—it does get better.”
    Mattie looked at her with glistening eyes. “You know.”
    Yes, I know, thought Rizzoli, her hands closing over the scars on her palms. They were the evidence of her own ordeal, her own battle for sanity.
Survival is only the first step.
    There was a knock on the door. Rizzoli stood up as Dwayne Purvis walked in, carrying an armful of red roses. He went straight to his wife’s bedside.
    “Hey, babe. I would have come up sooner, but it’s a zoo down there. They all wanted interviews.”
    “We saw you on TV,” said Rizzoli. Trying to sound neutral, though she could not look at him without remembering the interview at the Natick police station. Oh, Mattie, she thought. You can do better than this man.
    He turned to look at Rizzoli, and she saw his tailored shirt, his neatly knotted silk tie. The scent of his aftershave overwhelmed the fragrance of the roses. “So how’d I do?” he asked eagerly.
    She told the truth. “You looked like a real pro on TV.”
    “Yeah? It’s amazing, all the cameras out there. This has got everyone so excited.” He looked at his wife. “You know, hon, we need to document everything. Just so we have a record of it.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Like, right now. This moment. We should have a picture of this moment. Me bringing you flowers as you lie in your hospital bed. I’ve already got pictures of the kid. Had the nurse bring her up to the window. But we need to get close-ups. You holding her, maybe.”
    “Her name is Rose.”
    “And we don’t have any of you and me together. We definitely need a few photos of us. I brought a camera.”
    “My hair isn’t combed, Dwayne. I’m a mess. I don’t want any pictures.”
    “Come on. They’re all asking for ’em.”
    “Who is? Who are the pictures for?”
    “That’s something we can decide later. We can take our time, weigh all the offers. The story’s worth so much more if it comes with photos.” He pulled a camera from his pocket and handed it to Rizzoli. “Here, you mind taking the picture?”
    “It’s up to your wife.”
    “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he insisted. “Just take the picture.” He leaned in close to Mattie and