Ice Cold: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

met.”
    “Yes, sir.” The boy found himself shrinking under the man’s piercing gaze. “You came to see me at the hospital.”
    “I’m on the board of trustees at Evensong. It’s a school I deeply believe in. A school for unique students. Young people who’ve proven themselves extraordinary in some way.”
    “Me?” The boy laughed in disbelief. “I’m a thief. They told you that, didn’t they?”
    “Yes, I know.”
    “I broke into houses. I stole stuff.”
    “I know.”
    “I killed a deputy. I shot him.”
    “To stay alive. It’s a talent, you know. Just knowing how to survive.”
    Julian’s gaze drifted to the window. Below was the school courtyard, where cliques of students were huddled together in the cold, laughing and gossiping. I’ll never be part of their world, he thought. I’ll never be one of them. Is there anywhere in the world where I belong?
    “Ninety-nine percent of kids wouldn’t have lived through what you did,” said the man. “Because of you, my friend Maura is alive.”
    Julian looked at the man with sudden comprehension. “This is because of her, isn’t it? Maura asked you to take me.”
    “Yes. But I’m also doing it for Evensong. Because I think you’llbe an asset to us. An asset to …” He stopped. It was in that silence where the real answer lay. An answer that the man chose at that moment not to reveal. Instead, he smiled. “I’m sorry. I never properly introduced myself, did I? My name is Anthony Sansone.” He extended his hand. “May we welcome you to Evensong, Julian?”
    The boy stared at Sansone, trying to read his eyes. Trying to understand what was not being said. Principal Gorchinski and Beverly Cupido were both smiling cluelessly, oblivious to the strange current of tension in the room, a subaudible hum that told him there was more to the Evensong School than Lily Saul and Anthony Sansone were telling him. And that his life was about to change.
    “Well, Julian?” said Sansone. His hand was still extended.
    “My name is Rat,” the boy said. And he took the man’s hand.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
    Writing is a lonely profession, but I am far from alone. I am fortunate to have the help and support of my husband, Jacob; my literary agent, Meg Ruley; and my editor, Linda Marrow. I owe thanks as well to Selina Walker at Transworld; to Brian McLendon, Libby McGuire, and Kim Hovey at Ballantine; and to the lively and wonderful crew at the Jane Rotrosen Agency.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
    T ESS G ERRITSEN is a physician and an internationally best-selling author. She gained nationwide acclaim for her first novel of suspense, the
New York Times
bestseller
Harvest
. She is also the author of the bestsellers
The Keepsake, The Bone Garden, The Mephisto Club, Vanish, Body Double, The Sinner, The Apprentice, The Surgeon, Life Support, Bloodstream
, and
Gravity
. Tess Gerritsen lives in Maine. Visit her website at www.tessgerritsen.com .

Read on for an exciting preview
of Tess Gerritsen’s next thrilling novel
featuring Maura Isles and Jane Rizzoli
    THE SILENT GIRL

ONE
    SAN FRANCISCO
    A LL DAY , I HAVE BEEN WATCHING THE GIRL . She gives no indication that she’s aware of me, although my rental car is within view of the street corner where she and the other teenagers have gathered this afternoon, doing whatever bored kids do to pass the time. She looks younger than the others, but perhaps it’s because she’s Asian and petite at seventeen, just a wisp of a girl. Her black hair is cropped as short as a boy’s, and her blue jeans are ragged and torn. Not a fashion statement, I think, but a result of hard use and life on the streets. She puffs on a cigarette and exhales a cloud of smoke with the nonchalance of a street thug, an attitude that doesn’t match her pale face and delicate Chinese features. She is pretty enough to attract the hungry stares of two men who pass by. The girl notices their gazes and looks straight back at them, unafraid. It’s easy to be fearless when danger is merely an abstract concept. Faced with a real threat, how would this girl react? I wonder. Would she fight or would she crumble? I want to know, but I have yet to see her put to the test.
    As evening falls, the teenagers on the corner begin to disband. First one and then another wanders away. In San Francisco, even summer nights are chilly, and those who remain huddle together in their sweaters and jackets, lighting one another’s cigarettes, savoring the ephemeral heat of the flame. But