Ice Cold: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

when we convene back in town.”
    “I can tell you this much,” she said. “Maura’s no outdoors-woman. If you don’t find her soon, she’s not going to survive out there.”
    “It’s been almost two weeks since she went missing. She’s managed to stay alive this long.”
    “I don’t know how.”
    “Maybe it’s because of the man she’s traveling with,” said Sheriff Fahey.
    Jane looked at the mountain, where ravines were already darkening into shadow. In just the last few moments, as the sunlight haddipped below the peak, the temperature had plunged. Shivering in the cold, Jane wrapped her arms around herself and thought of a night spent unsheltered on that mountain, where the forest had claws, and the wind could always find you. A night with a man they knew nothing about.
    What happens next may all depend on him
.
    “H IS FINGERPRINTS aren’t new to us,” said Sheriff Fahey, addressing the law enforcement officers and volunteers who filled the seats in the Pinedale Town Hall. “The state of Wyoming already has the prints on record. The perp’s name is Julian Henry Perkins, and he’s compiled quite a rap sheet.” Fahey read from his notes. “Auto theft. Breaking and entering. Vagrancy. Multiple charges of misdemeanor theft.” He looked around at his audience. “That’s who we’re dealing with. And we know he’s now armed and dangerous.”
    Jane shook her head. “Maybe I’m a little jaded,” she called out from her seat in the third row. “But that doesn’t sound like much of a rap sheet for a cop-killer.”
    “It is when you’re only sixteen years old.”
    “This perp is a juvenile?”
    Detective Pasternak said: “His fingerprints were all over the kitchen cabinets, as well as on the door of Deputy Martineau’s vehicle. We have to assume he was the individual whom Mr. Loftus saw on the scene.”
    “Our office is familiar with the Perkins boy,” said Fahey. “We’ve picked him up numerous times for various infractions. What we can’t figure out is his connection to the woman.”
    “His connection?” said Jane. “Maura’s his hostage!”
    In the front row, Montgomery Loftus gave a snort. “Not what I saw.”
    “What you
thought
you saw,” Jane countered.
    The man turned and gave the three visitors from Boston a cold stare. “You people weren’t there.”
    Fahey said, “Ma’am, we’ve known Monty all our lives. He’s not going to go making stuff up.”
    Then maybe he needs glasses
, Jane wanted to say, but she swallowed the retort. The three Boston visitors were outnumbered in this town hall, where dozens of locals had assembled for the briefing. The murder of a deputy had shocked the community, and volunteers had streamed in, eager to bring the killer to justice. Volunteers with guns and grim faces and righteous anger. Jane looked around at those faces and felt a premonitory chill. They’re spoiling for a kill, she thought. And it doesn’t matter that their quarry is a sixteen-year-old kid.
    A woman suddenly called out from the back row. “Julian Perkins is just a boy! You can’t be serious about sending an armed posse after him.”
    “He killed a deputy, Cathy,” said Fahey. “He’s not
just
a boy.”
    “I know Julian better than any of you do. I have a hard time believing that he’d kill anyone.”
    “Excuse me,” said Detective Pasternak. “I’m not from this county. Maybe you could introduce yourself, ma’am?”
    The young woman stood, and Jane immediately recognized her. It was the social worker they’d met at the scene of the Circle B double homicide. “I’m Cathy Weiss, Sublette County Child Protective Services. I’ve been Julian’s caseworker for the past year.”
    “And you don’t believe he could have killed Deputy Martineau?” said Pasternak.
    “No, sir.”
    “Cathy, look at his rap sheet,” said Fahey. “The kid’s no angel.”
    “But he’s no monster. Julian is a victim. He’s a sixteen-year-old kid just trying to survive, in a world where nobody wants him.”
    “Most kids manage to survive just fine without breaking into homes and stealing cars.”
    “Most kids aren’t used and abused by cults.”
    Fahey rolled his eyes. “Here we go again with that stuff.”
    “I’ve warned you about The Gathering for years. Ever since they moved into this county and built their perfect little Stepford village. Now you’re seeing the result. This is what happens when you ignore the danger signs. When you look the other way