Ice Cold: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

showers of snowflakes. Maura leaned back and watched the scenery go by. She looked forward to lunch by the lodge fire, and then to an afternoon of skiing. Cross-country, not downhill, so no need to feel the least bit anxious, no fears of broken legs or fractured skulls or spectacularly embarrassing falls. Just a quiet glide through silent woods, the swoosh of her skis sliding across the powder, the pleasant burn of cold air in her lungs. During the pathology conference, she’d seen far too many images of damaged bodies. She was glad to be on a journey that had nothing to do with death.
    “Snow’s coming down pretty fast,” said Arlo.
    “We’ve got good tires on this baby,” said Doug. “Hertz clerk said they can handle the weather.”
    “Speaking of the weather, did you check the forecast?”
    “Yeah, snow. What a surprise.”
    “Just tell me we’re gonna make it to the lodge in time for lunch.”
    “Lola says we’ll arrive at eleven thirty-two. And Lola’s never wrong.”
    Maura called out: “Who’s Lola?”
    Doug pointed to the portable GPS, which he’d mounted on the dashboard. “That’s Lola.”
    “Why are GPSs always referred to as females?” asked Elaine.
    Arlo laughed. “Because women are always telling us men where to go. Since Lola says we’ll be there before noon, we can have an early lunch.”
    Elaine sighed. “Do you ever stop thinking about eating?”
    “The word is
dining
. In one lifetime, you can eat only so many meals, so you might as well—”
    “—make each and every one worth it,” Elaine finished for him. “Yes, Arlo, we know your philosophy of life.”
    Arlo turned in his seat to look at Maura. “My mom was a great cook. She taught me never to waste my appetite on mediocre food.”
    “That must be why you’re so thin,” said Elaine.
    “Ouch,” Arlo said. “You’re in a weird mood today. I thought you were looking forward to this trip.”
    “I’m just tired. You snored half the night. I may have to insist on my own room.”
    “Aw, come on. I’ll buy you some earplugs.” Arlo slung an arm around Elaine and pulled her close against him. “Honeybun. Baby. Don’t make me sleep alone.”
    Elaine extricated herself. “You’re giving me a crick in the neck.”
    “Hey, people, will you look at this gorgeous snow!” said Doug. “It’s a winter wonderland!”
    An hour out of Jackson, they saw a sign: LAST CHANCE FOR FUEL. Doug pulled in to Grubb’s Gas Station and General Store, and they all piled out of the vehicle to use the restrooms and cruise the narrow aisles, scanning the snacks and dusty magazines and windshield ice scrapers.
    Arlo stood in front of a display of plastic-wrapped beef sticks and laughed. “Who eats these things, anyway? They’re like ninety percent sodium nitrite, and the rest is red dye number two.”
    “They have Cadbury chocolates,” said Elaine. “Shall we get some?”
    “Probably ten years old. Oh, yuck, they’ve got licorice whips. I got sick on those when I was a kid. It’s like we’re back in the 1950s.”
    As Arlo and Elaine stood sniggering over the snack selection, Maura picked up a newspaper and headed to the cash register to pay for it.
    “You know that’s a week old, don’t you?” said Grace.
    Maura turned, surprised that the girl had spoken to her. For once, Grace wasn’t wearing her ear buds, but her iPod was still playing, the music issuing out a tinny whine.
    “It’s last week’s paper,” Grace pointed out. “Everything in this store is expired. The potato chips are, like, a year old. I bet even the petrol is bad.”
    “Thanks for pointing it out. But I need something to read, and this will have to do.” Maura pulled out her wallet, wondering how the word
petrol
ended up in an American teenager’s vocabulary. But that was just one more detail about Grace that puzzled her. The girl walked out the door, skinny hips swaying slightly in skintight jeans, oblivious to her effect on others. The old man standing behind the cash register gaped after her, as though he’d never seen such an exotic creature saunter through his store.
    By the time Maura stepped outside again, Grace was already in the Suburban, but this time she was in the backseat. “The princess finally relinquished her throne,” Doug whispered to Maura as he opened the door for her. “You get to sit up front with me.”
    “I didn’t mind sitting in back.”
    “Well, I minded. I had a chat with her, and she’s cool with it