Last to Die: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

alone here, she might wander for days trying to find her way out. She scrambled to catch up and pushed through a curtain of brush into a small clearing where the others had come to a halt.
    Beneath a magnificent willow tree stood Professor Pasquantonio and Roman, the forester. Nearby stood a group of students, huddled together against the wind.
    “… haven’t touched a thing. We left ’em just as we found ’em,” Roman said to Dr. Welliver. “Damned if I know what this means.”
    “A sick prank.” Pasquantonio snorted. “That’s what it is. Children do ridiculous things.”
    Dr. Welliver moved beneath the willow tree and stared up into the branches. “Do we know who did this?”
    “Nobody’s owning up to it,” grunted Roman.
    “We
all
know she did it,” a dark-haired girl said. “Who else would it be?” She pointed at Claire. “She sneaked out again last night. I saw her through the window.
Night Crawler
.”
    “I didn’t do it,” Claire said. She stood off by herself at the edge of the woods, arms crossed over her chest as though to fend off the accusations.
    “You
were
out. Don’t lie about it.”
    “Briana,” said Dr. Welliver, “we don’t accuse people without proof.”
    Jane eased her way through the gathering to see what had drawnthem all to this place. Dangling from a lower branch of the willow tree were three dolls made of twigs and twine, suspended like rustic Christmas ornaments. Stepping closer, Jane saw that one of the dolls had a birch-bark skirt. A female. The twig dolls slowly twisted in the wind like little hangman’s victims, all of them splattered with what looked like blood. High in the willow tree, crows cawed, and Jane looked up. Saw the source of those splatters hanging above her head, and caught a whiff of decay. In disgust she backed away, her gaze fixed on the carcass that hung from that high branch.
    “Who found it?” asked Dr. Welliver.
    “We all did,” said Roman. “Every few days, I take ’em down this trail, pointing out how the forest changes. Those girls were the first to spot ’em.” He pointed to Briana and the two girls who always seemed to hover around her. “Never heard such hysterical caterwauling.” He pulled out a knife and sliced the rope that suspended the carcass, and the dead rooster plopped to the ground. “You’d think they never ate chicken,” he muttered.
    “It’s Herman,” one of the boys murmured. “Someone killed Herman.”
    Not just killed him, thought Jane. Slit him open. Pulled out his entrails and exposed them to the crows. This was no mere juvenile prank; this turned her stomach.
    Dr. Welliver looked around at the students, who stood shivering as the first raindrops began to fall. “Does anyone know anything about this?”
    “I didn’t hear him crowing this morning,” said one of the girls. “Herman always wakes me up. But not this morning.”
    “I came down the trail yesterday afternoon,” said Roman. “Wasn’t hanging then. Must’ve been done last night.”
    Jane glanced at Claire.
The midnight rambler
. The girl, suddenly aware of Jane’s gaze, stared back at her in defiance. A look that dared everyone to prove she had done it.
    As raindrops splattered her dress, Dr. Welliver looked around atthe circle of students, her arms spread as if offering a hug to anyone who needed one. “If anyone wants to talk to me about this later, my door is always open. I promise, whatever you tell me will stay just between you and me. Now.” She sighed, looking up at the rain. “Why don’t you head back?”
    As the students left the clearing, the adults remained by the willow tree. Only when the children were out of earshot did Dr. Welliver say softly: “This is very disturbing.”
    Maura crouched down over the slaughtered rooster. “His neck is broken. That’s probably what killed him. But then to gut him? Leave him here, where everyone will see him?” She looked at Dr. Welliver. “There’s meaning to this.”
    “It means you’ve got one sick puppy here,” said Jane. She looked up at the three twig figures. “And what does
that
mean? Like creepy little voodoo dolls. Why did she do this?”
    “She?” said Welliver.
    “Sure, Claire denied it. But kids lie all the time.”
    Dr. Welliver shook her head. “That brain injury made her impulsive. But it also made her almost incapable of deception. Claire says exactly what she thinks, even though it gets her into trouble. She denied it, and I believe