Ice Cold: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

shockingly loud.
    “Will you exterminate us all?” Jeremiah asked.
    “Give it a rest,” MacAfee retorted.
    “You know very well I had nothing to do with what happened in Kingdom Come.”
    “That’s what we’ll find out.”
    “Will you? I don’t think you want the truth. Because you’ve already chosen your villain.” Head held high, Jeremiah walked thegantlet of police officers. But as he neared the exit, he suddenly halted, his gaze riveted on Cathy Weiss. Slowly his lips curved into a smile of recognition. “Katie Sheldon,” he said softly. “You’ve come back to us.”
    Jane frowned at Cathy, whose face had gone frighteningly pale. “But you told me Katie Sheldon was your friend,” Jane said.
    Cathy didn’t seem to hear Jane, but kept her gaze on Jeremiah. “This time it ends,” Cathy said softly.
    “Ends?” He shook his head. “No, Katie, this only makes us stronger. In the eyes of the public, I’m a martyr.” He regarded her windblown hair, her haggard face, and the look he gave her was almost pitying. “I see the world has not been kind to you. What a shame you ever left us.” He smiled as he turned to leave. “But we must all move on.”
    “Jeremiah!” Cathy suddenly stepped behind him, her arms thrust out in front of her. Only then did Jane see what she was clutching in both hands.
    “Cathy, no!” yelled Jane. In an instant she had her own weapon out. “Drop it. Drop the gun, Cathy!”
    Jeremiah turned and calmly regarded the weapon that was now pointed at his chest. If he felt any fear at all, he did not show it. Through the pounding of her own heart, Jane heard gasps in the pews and frantic footsteps as the congregation scrambled for cover. She had no doubt that a dozen police weapons were now drawn and pointed as well. But Jane’s gaze stayed glued on Cathy. On the raw, wind-chapped hands now clutching the gun. Though any cop in that room could have fired on her, no one did. They all stood paralyzed by the prospect of taking down this young woman.
We never imagined she’d be armed. Why would we?
    “Cathy, please,” Jane said quietly. She was standing closest to the woman. Almost close enough to reach out and take the gun, if only Cathy would hand it to her. “This doesn’t solve anything.”
    “But it does. This ends it.”
    “That’s what the courts are for.”
    “The
courts?”
Cathy’s laugh was bitter. “They won’t touch him. They never have.” Her grip tightened, and the barrel tilted higher, yet Jeremiah did not flinch. His gaze remained serene, almost amused.
    “You see, my friends?” he called out. “This is what we face. Irrational anger and hatred.” He gave a sad shake of the head and looked at Cathy. “I think it’s clear to everyone here that you need help, Katie. I feel only love for you. That’s all I’ve ever felt.” Once again, he turned to leave.
    “Love?” Cathy whispered.
“Love?”
    Jane saw the tendons in Cathy’s wrist snap taut. Saw the woman’s fingers tighten, yet her own reflexes refused to kick in. Her hands froze around her weapon.
    The blast of Cathy’s gun sent a bullet flying into Jeremiah’s back. He lurched forward and stumbled to his knees.
    The room exploded in gunfire. Cathy’s body jerked and twitched as a hail of police bullets punched into her flesh. Her weapon thudded to the floor and she went sprawling. She landed facedown beside the body of Jeremiah Goode.
    “Cease fire!” shouted MacAfee.
    There were two final, stuttering shots, and then silence fell.
    Jane dropped to her knees beside Cathy. From the congregation came a woman’s wail, a high and eerie keening that did not even sound human. Now others joined in, a chorus of shrieks that soon became deafening as hundreds of voices cried out in grief for their fallen prophet. No one mourned Cathy Weiss. No one called out her name. Only Jane, kneeling on the bloody floor, was leaning in close enough to stare into the woman’s eyes. Only Jane saw the light in those eyes fade out as her soul tumbled away.
    “Murderer!” someone screamed. “She’s a Judas!”
    Jane looked at the body of Jeremiah Goode. Even in death, he was smiling.

H ER BIRTH NAME WAS KATIE SHELDON,” SAID JANE, AS SHE AND Maura drove toward Jackson. “At age thirteen, she became one of Jeremiah’s so-called spiritual brides, expected to submit herself completely to his desires. For six years, she belonged to him. But somehow, she managed to pull together the courage to