Last to Die: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

Nonna’s kitchen
.
    That’s when the bodyguards realized their tire had been slashed, and they were stranded. An ambush. Icarus saw at once what was happening, and he reacted as we expected he would
.
    He hit his accelerator and roared away, speeding toward the safety of his hilltop home
.
    We were in the car right behind him. A second car, with two more members of our team, waited a hundred yards up the road. It cut into position just in front of Icarus, and the Volvo was now boxed between our two vehicles
.
    The road narrowed as it wound up the hillside, carving hairpin turns. A blind curve was coming up, and the first car braked to slow down the Volvo. Our plan was to force it to a stop, to yank Icarus from the Volvo and bundle him into our vehicle. But instead of slowing, Icarus surprised us. Recklessly he accelerated, squeezing past the first car, with barely an inch to spare
.
    No one saw the oncoming truck until it was too late
.
    Icarus desperately swerved right, but that sent the Volvo into the guardrail. It caromed off and skidded
.
    The truck hit it broadside, crumpling the passenger doors
.
    Even before I scrambled out of my car, I knew that the wife was dead. I was the one who yanked open Icarus’s door, the one who first glimpsed the carnage inside. Lucia’s broken body. The destroyed face of the ten-year-old. And little Carlo, still conscious but dying. Carlo looked at me, and I saw the question in his eyes. It is a question that I still struggle to answer:
Why?
    We dragged Icarus from the Volvo. Unlike his family, he was very much alive and fighting us. Within seconds we had his wrists and ankles bound. We tossed him into the backseat of my vehicle and threw a blanket over him
.
    The hapless truck driver, dazed and light-headed from the collision, had no idea what had really happened. Later he would tell the police that Good Samaritans had stopped to rescue the Volvo’s driver, and must have brought him to a hospital. But our destination was a private airstrip forty-eight miles away, where a chartered jet was fueled and waiting
.
    We had accomplished what we came to do, but this was not the
way it should have ended, with three dead innocents. After any other successful mission, we would have celebrated with a round of whiskey and high fives. But that night we were subdued. Anxious about the repercussions to follow
.
    We had no idea how terrible they would be
.

THIRTEEN
 
    W IND RATTLED THE WINDOWS OF DR. ANNA WELLIVER’S OFFICE , and from that lofty perch in the castle’s turret Jane saw black clouds rolling in from the mountains, moving inexorably toward them. A summer storm was coming, and the sound of the wind made Jane uneasy as she and Maura watched Dr. Welliver assemble a tray of teacups and saucers. Outside the view looked threatening, but inside the turret it was a cozy space with a floral sofa and incense sticks and crystals hanging in the window, a serene retreat where a traumatized child could curl into the overstuffed chair and safely share his darkest fears. The incense made it seem more like the parlor of an eccentric earth mother than a therapist’s office, but then Welliver
was
eccentric, with her wild gray hair and granny dresses and orthopedic shoes.
    “I’ve had about forty-eight hours to observe the boy,” said Dr. Welliver. “And I must say, I have concerns.” On the side table, the electric kettle began to hiss and burble, and she rose to pour steaming water into a porcelain teapot.
    “What problems do you see?” asked Jane.
    “Superficially, he seems to be settling in remarkably well. He appeared to enjoy the first day of classes. Ms. Duplessis said he reads well above his grade level. Mr. Roman coaxed him into shooting a few arrows at archery class. And last night, I discovered him in the computer room, surfing YouTube.”
    Jane glanced at Maura. “You can’t make a cell phone call here, but you can surf the Web?”
    “We can’t hold back the digital age,” said Dr. Welliver with a laugh. She settled heavily back into her chair, her dress puffing up like a tent around her generous body. “Of course we block inappropriate websites, and our students know they’re never to reveal any personal information. Not their locations, not their names. It’s a matter of safety.”
    “For these children, in particular,” said Maura.
    “The point I was trying to make,” said Dr. Welliver, “is that Teddy has, to all appearances, adjusted very well to this new