Last to Die: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

and she was expected back in Boston tonight, but Jane made no move to leave. Instead she remained in the armchair, because she did not know when they would have this chance again. Life was too often a series of interruptions. Phone calls, family crises, other people always interrupting, whether it was in the morgue or at the crime scene. On this gray afternoon there were no ringing phones, no one knocking on the door, yet silence hung between them, heavy with all that had been left unsaid these past weeks, ever since Maura’s testimony had sent a cop to prison. Boston’s finest did not easily forgive such acts of treason.
    Now, at every crime scene, Maura was forced to walk a gauntlet of chilly silence and hostile stares, and the strain was apparent in her face. In the firelight, her eyes seemed hollow, her cheeks thinner.
    “Graff was guilty.” Maura’s fingers tightened around the teacup. “I would testify to that again.”
    “Of course you would. That’s what you do, you tell the truth.”
    “You make it sound like a bad habit. A tic.”
    “No, it takes courage to tell the truth. I should have been a better friend.”
    “I wasn’t sure if we
were
friends anymore. Or if I’m capable of holding on to
any
friends.” Maura stared at the fire, as if all the answers could be found in those flames. “Maybe I should just stay here. Become a hermit and live in the woods. It’s so beautiful. I could spend the rest of my life in Maine.”
    “Your life’s in Boston.”
    “It’s not as if Boston ever embraced me.”
    “Cities don’t embrace you. People do.”
    “And it’s people who let you down.” Maura blinked at the firelight.
    “That could happen anywhere, Maura.”
    “There’s a hardness to Boston. A coldness. Before I moved there, I’d heard about chilly New Englanders, but I didn’t really believe it. Then I got to Boston, and I felt like I had to chip through ice just to know people.”
    “Even me?”
    Maura looked at her. “Even you.”
    “I had no idea we gave off those vibes. I guess it ain’t sunny California.”
    Once again, Maura’s gaze was on the flames. “I should never have left San Francisco.”
    “You have friends in Boston now. You have me.”
    A smile twitched up the corner of Maura’s mouth. “You, I would miss.”
    “Is Boston really the problem? Or is it one Bostonian in particular?”
    They didn’t need to say his name; they were both thinking of Father Daniel Brophy, the man who’d brought both joy and sorrow into Maura’s life. The man who had probably suffered just as deeply from their ill-considered affair.
    “Just when I think I’m over him,” said Maura, “when I think I’ve finally crawled out of the hole and back into the sunlight, I’ll see him at a crime scene. And the wound rips right open again.”
    “It’s hard to avoid him when death scenes are what you both do.”
    Maura gave a rueful laugh. “A healthy way to build a relationship! On tragedy.”
    “It is over between you, isn’t it?”
    “Yes.” Maura paused. “And no.”
    “But you’re not together.”
    “And I can see how much he’s suffering because of it. It’s written all over his face.”
    And on your face, too
.
    “Which is why I
should
leave Boston. Go back to California, or … anywhere.”
    “And that will solve everything?”
    “It could.”
    “You’d be two thousand miles away from him, but you’d also be two thousand miles from every tie you’ve built over the last few years. Your home, your colleagues. Your friends.”
    “Friend. As in singular.”
    “You didn’t see the memorial service we held for you when we thought you were dead. When we thought the body in that coffin was yours. The room was packed, Maura, with people who respect you. Who care about you. Yeah, maybe we’re no good at showing our feelings. Maybe these long winters make us all crabby. But we do have feelings. Even in Boston.”
    Maura kept staring at the fireplace, where the flames were slowly dying, leaving only the glow of ashes.
    “Well, I know someone who’ll be really sorry if you go back to California,” said Jane. “Does he know you’re thinking about this?”
    “He?”
    “Oh geez, don’t play dumb. I’ve seen how he looks at you. It’s the one reason Sansone and Brophy dislike each other so much. Because of
you
.”
    Surprise flickered in Maura’s eyes as she looked at Jane. “Anthony Sansone was never on your list of favorite people.”
    “Talk about