Last to Die: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

situation there,” she said. “Is it secure?”
    “It’s isolated. There’s one road in, and it’s gated. They have motion sensors along the road.”
    “Your surroundings?”
    “Thirty thousand acres of private woodland. Theoretically someone could hike in, but then he’d have to get into the building itself. The door’s massive, with a security keypad. All the windows are well above ground level. Plus, there’s the staff.”
    “A bunch of schoolteachers? Oh yeah, that’s reassuring.”
    “They have a forester protecting the property and he’s armed. The school’s self-contained and has its own farm and generator.”
    “Still, we’re talking teachers. Not bodyguards.”
    “Jane, they’re all members of the Mephisto Society.”
    That made Jane pause. Anthony Sansone’s bizarre little group kept track of violent crimes around the world, searching the data for patterns, seeking evidence that evil was real. That humanity itself was under attack. “You never told me they operated the school.”
    “I didn’t know that until I got here.”
    “They’re conspiracy theorists. They see monsters under every rock.”
    “Maybe this time they have a point.”
    “Don’t get biblical on me. Not you, please.”
    “I’m not talking about demons. There
is
something going on here that we can’t explain, something that connects these children. The school psychologist refuses to share the details because of patient confidentiality. But Lily Saul told me enough about Claire and Will to convince me there’s a pattern here. And Evensong may be the one place these three children are safe.”
    “A school operated by a paranoid organization.”
    “Which makes them the perfect guardians. They chose this remote site because they can defend it.”
    There was a knock on the bathroom door. “Rizzoli?” called Frost. “The social worker’s here to take the boy.”
    “Don’t let anyone take him!”
    “What do I tell her?”
    “Hold on, I’ll be out in a minute.” She turned her attention back to the phone. “Maura, I’m not sure I trust Sansone and his crowd.”
    “He’s never failed to come through for us, you know that. And these people certainly have more resources than Boston PD could ever scrape together.”
    And there’d be no information leaks, thought Jane. No better place to keep a boy hidden from the world.
    “How do I get there?” she asked.
    “It’s not easy to find. I’ll have to email you the directions.”
    “Do it. I’ll talk to you later.” She disconnected and walked out of the bathroom.
    In the living room, the social worker stood waiting with Frost. “Detective Rizzoli,” she said, “we’ve arranged another placement for—”
    “I’ve made alternative arrangements for Teddy,” Jane said.
    The social worker frowned. “But I thought we were going to place him.”
    “Teddy may have been the target tonight. Which means there could be more attacks. You don’t want another foster family killed, do you?”
    The woman lifted her hand to her mouth. “Oh God. Do you really think …”
    “Exactly.” Jane looked at Frost. “Can you make sure the Inigos have a safe place to go tonight? I’m going to take Teddy.”
    “Where?”
    “I’ll call you later. I’m going upstairs to pack a bag for him. Then he and I are getting out of Dodge.”
    “You have to give me an idea, at least.”
    She glanced at the social worker, who was watching them, her jaw agape. “The fewer people who know, the safer it will be,” she said.
For both of us
.
    J ANE DROVE NORTH INTO the dawn with one eye on the rearview mirror. In the backseat, Teddy slept through the entire journey. They’d stopped at her apartment just long enough for her to throw some clothes and toiletries into an overnight bag, and then they were on the road. Gabriel had wanted her to get a good night’s sleep first, to wait until daylight to leave, but she was anxious to get Teddy out of Boston.
    And she sure as hell wouldn’t let him stay in her home or anywhere near her own family. She’d seen what happened to families who sheltered Teddy. Death seemed to walk in the boy’s footsteps, scythe swinging and hacking at whoever happened to be nearby. She did not want that bloody scythe harvesting the two people she loved most.
    So she’d bundled the boy back into the car, threw her bag in the trunk, and by one thirty in the morning they were headed north out of Boston. Away from her family.
    At that early hour, traffic