Ice Cold: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

too quickly. She glimpsed Sansone’s darkly unreadable face, and she saw Jane awkwardly turn to avoid meeting her gaze. I may be back from the dead, she thought, but has anything really changed? I am still the same woman, and Daniel is the same man.
    He was the one who drove her home.
    In the darkness of her bedroom, they undressed each other, as they had so many times before. He kissed her bruises, her healing scratches. Caressed all the hollows, all the places where her bones were now far too prominent. My poor darling, you’ve lost so much weight, he told her. How he’d missed her. Mourned her.
    It was not yet morning when she awakened. She sat in bed and watched him sleep as the night lifted outside the window, and she committed to memory his face, the sound of his breathing, the touch and the scent of him. Whenever he spent the night with her, dawn always brought sadness because it meant his leaving. On this morning, she felt it once again, and the association was so powerful that she wondered if she’d ever again be able to watch a sunrise without a stab of despair. You are both my love and my unhappiness, she thought. And I am yours.
    She rose from bed, went into the kitchen, and made coffee. Stood at the window sipping it as daylight brightened, revealing a lawn laced with frost. She thought of those cold, silent mornings in Kingdom Come, where she had finally faced the truth about her own life.
I am trapped in my own snowbound valley. I am the only one who can rescue me
.
    She finished her coffee and went back into her bedroom. Settling down beside Daniel, she watched him open his eyes and smile at her.
    “I love you, Daniel,” she said. “I will always love you. But it’s time for us to say goodbye.”

FOUR MONTHS LATER
    J ULIAN P ERKINS CARRIED HIS LUNCH TRAY FROM THE HIGH SCHOOL cafeteria line and scanned the room for an empty table, but they were all occupied. He saw other students glance at him, and noticed how quickly they turned away, afraid that he might misconstrue their looks as invitations. He understood the meaning of those stubbornly hunched shoulders. He wasn’t deaf to the snickers, the whispers.
    God, he’s weird
.
    The cult must’ve sucked out his brains
.
    My mom says he should be in juvie hall
.
    Julian finally spotted an available chair, and as he sat down, the other kids at the table quickly scooted away as though he were radioactive. Maybe he was. Maybe he emitted death rays that killed anyone he loved, anyone who loved
him
. He ate quickly, as he always did, like some feral animal afraid that his food would be snatched away, gulping down the turkey and rice in a few ravenous bites.
    “Julian Perkins?” a teacher called out. “Is Julian Perkins in the cafeteria?”
    The boy cringed as he felt everyone turn to look at him. He wanted to duck under the table where he could not be found. When a teacher yells your name in the cafeteria, it sure as hell isn’t a good thing. The other students were gleefully pointing at him, and already Mr. Hazeldean was coming toward him, wearing his usual bow tie and scowl.
    “Perkins.”
    Julian’s head drooped. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled.
    “Principal wants you in his office.”
    “What did I do?”
    “You probably know the answer to that one.”
    “No, sir, I don’t.”
    “Then why don’t you go and find out?”
    Regretfully abandoning his uneaten chocolate pudding, Julian carried the tray to the dirty dishes window and started up the hallway toward Principal Gorchinski’s office. Truly he did not know what he’d done wrong. All the other times, well, yeah. He should not have brought his hunting knife to school. He should not have borrowed Mrs. Pribble’s car without her permission. But this time, he couldn’t think of any infraction that would explain the summons.
    When he reached Gorchinski’s office, he had his all-purpose apology ready.
I knew it was stupid, sir. I’ll never do it again, sir. Please don’t call the police again, sir
.
    Principal G’s secretary barely looked up as he walked in. “You can go straight into his office, Julian,” she said. “They’re waiting for you.”
    They
. Plural. This was sounding worse and worse. The poker-faced secretary, as usual, gave nothing away—just kept tapping at her keyboard. Pausing outside Gorchinski’s door, he prepared himself for whatever punishment was waiting. I probably deserve it, he thought, and stepped into the room.
    “There you are, Julian. You have