Body Double: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

notifies the security company, and they’ll call the house. To disarm it, you punch in the same code, then hit OFF. Is that clear so far?”
    “Yes. Do you want to tell me the code?”
    “I was just getting to that.” He glanced at her. “You realize, of course, that I’m about to hand you the numerical key to my house.”
    “Are you wondering if you can trust me?”
    “Just promise not to pass it along to your unsavory friends.”
    “Lord knows I have plenty of those.”
    “Yeah.” He laughed. “And they probably all carry badges. Okay, the code is twelve seventeen. My daughter’s birthday. Think you can remember that, or do you want to write it down?”
    “I’ll remember it.”
    “Good. Now go ahead and arm it, since I think we’re in for the night.”
    As she punched in the numbers, he stood so close beside her she could feel his breath in her hair. She pressed ARM and heard a soft beep. The digital readout now said: SYSTEM ARMED.
    “Fortress secure,” he said.
    “That was simple enough.” She turned and found him watching her so intently, she had the urge to step back, if only to reestablish a safe distance between them.
    “Did you get any dinner?” he asked.
    “I never got around to it. So much was happening tonight.”
    “Come on, then. I can’t let you go hungry.”
    His kitchen looked exactly the way she expected it would, with sturdy maple cabinets and butcher-block countertops. Pots and pans hung in orderly array from a ceiling rack. No extravagant touches, just the workspace of a practical man.
    “I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” she said. “Eggs and toast would be fine.”
    He opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of eggs. “Scrambled?”
    “I can do it, Rick.”
    “How about you make us some toast? The bread’s right over there. I’d like one, too.”
    She took two bread slices from the package and dropped them into the toaster. Turned to watch as he stood by the stove, scrambling eggs in a bowl, and remembered their last meal together, both of them barefoot, laughing. Enjoying each other’s company. Before Jane’s phone call had made her wary of him. And if Jane hadn’t called that night, what would have happened between them? She watched him pour the eggs into a pan and turn up the burner. Felt her face flush, as though he’d lit another flame inside her as well.
    She turned and looked instead at the refrigerator door, where photos of Ballard and his daughter were displayed. Katie as an infant in her mother’s arms. As a toddler, sitting in a high chair. A progression of images, leading to a photo of a blond teenager with a grudging smile.
    “She’s changing so fast,” he said. “I can’t believe those photos are all the same kid.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “What did you decide to do about that joint in her locker?”
    “Oh, that.” He sighed. “Carmen grounded her. Even worse, she’s said no TV for a month. Now I’m going to have to lock up my own set, just to make sure Katie doesn’t sneak over here and watch it while I’m not at home.”
    “You and Carmen are good about keeping a united front.”
    “There’s not much choice, really. No matter how bitter the divorce is, you have to stand together, for the kid’s sake.” He turned off the stove and slid steaming eggs onto two plates. “You never had children?”
    “No, fortunately.”
    “Fortunately?”
    “Victor and I wouldn’t have managed to stay as civil as you two.”
    “It’s not as easy as it looks. Especially since . . .”
    “Yes?”
    “We manage to keep up appearances. That’s all.”
    They set the table, laid out plates of eggs and toast and butter, and sat down facing each other. The subject of their failed marriages had left them subdued. We are both still recovering from emotional wounds, she thought. No matter how attracted we are to each other, this is the wrong time to get involved.
    But later, as he walked her upstairs, she knew the same possibilities were surely dancing in both their heads.
    “Here’s your room,” he said, opening the door to Katie’s bedroom. She walked in and confronted Britney Spears’s come-hither eyes, gazing down from a giant poster on the wall. Britney dolls and CDs lined the bookshelves. This room is going to give me nightmares, thought Maura.
    “You have your own bathroom, through that door,” he said. “There should be a spare toothbrush or two in the cabinet. And you can use Katie’s