Last to Die: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

stupid meeting?”
    “Because we need to put our heads together and talk about what happened to Dr. Welliver.”
    “I’ve already told everyone what happened,” said Claire. “I told the police. I told Dr Isles. I told—”
    “He means what
really
happened,” said Teddy.
    She frowned at him. Teddy, the ectomorph, another word she’d learned from that health book.
Ecto
as in
ectoplasm
, pale and wispy as a ghost. “Are you saying I didn’t tell the truth?”
    “That’s not at all what he meant,” said Will.
    “That’s what it sounded like.”
    “We’re just wondering—the Jackals are wondering—”
    “Are you talking behind my back? You and the club?”
    “We’re trying to understand how it happened.”
    “Dr. Welliver jumped off the roof and she went splat on the ground. That’s not so hard to understand.”
    “But
why
did she do it?” said Will.
    “Half the time, I can’t even tell you why
I
do the things I do,” she said, and rose to her feet.
    Will reached across the table and grabbed her hand, to stop her from leaving. “Does it make
any
sense to you, why she’d jump off the roof?”
    She stared down at his hand, touching hers. “No,” she admitted.
    “That’s why you should come,” he said urgently. “But you can’t talk about it. Julian says it’s only for the Jackals.”
    She glanced across the dining hall at the table where glossy-haired Briana sat gossiping with the other cool kids. “Is
she
going to be there? Is this some kind of practical joke?”
    “Claire, it’s
me
asking you,” said Will. “You know you can trust me.”
    She looked at Will, and this time she didn’t focus on his pimples or his pale moon face, but his eyes. Those gentle brown eyes with long lashes. She’d never known Will to do or say anything unkind. He was goofy, sometimes annoying, but never hurtful.
Unlike me
. She thought of the times she’d pointedly ignored him or rolled her eyes at something he said, or laughed, along with everyone else, about the monster cannonballs he splashed up jumping into the lake.
Somewhere, a farmer is missing his hog
, the other girls had said, and Claire had not challenged that cruel comment. It shamed her now as she looked into Will’s eyes.
    “Where are we meeting?” she asked.
    “Bruno will show us the way.”
    *   *   *
    T HE PATH THAT TOOK them up the hillside behind the school was steep and rocky, a direction that Claire had not yet explored on her midnight rambles. The route was so poorly marked that without Bruno Chinn to lead them, she might have gotten lost among the trees. Like Claire, Bruno was thirteen and yet another misfit, but a relentlessly cheerful one who seemed fated to always be the shortest kid in the group. He scampered like a mountain goat up a boulder and cast an impatient glance at his three lagging classmates.
    “Does anyone want to race me to the top?” he offered.
    Will halted, his face flushed bright pink, his T-shirt plastered to his doughy torso. “I’m dying here, Bruno. Can’t we rest?”
    Bruno waved them forward, a grinning little Napoleon leading his charge up the hill. “Don’t be such a lazybones. You need to get in shape like me!”
    “Do you want to kill Bruno?” muttered Claire. “Or should I?”
    Will wiped the sweat from his face. “Just give me a minute. I’ll be okay,” he gasped. He certainly didn’t look okay as he plodded ahead, panting and wheezing, his enormous shoes slipping and sliding on moss.
    “Where are we going?” Claire called out.
    Bruno halted and turned to his three classmates. “Before we go any farther, you all have to promise.”
    “Promise what?” said Teddy.
    “That you won’t reveal this location. It’s
our
place, and the last thing we want is that grumpy old Mr. Roman telling us it’s off limits.”
    Claire snorted. “You think he doesn’t already know?”
    “Just promise. Raise your right hands.”
    With a sigh, Claire raised her hand. So did Will and Teddy. “We promise,” they said simultaneously.
    “All right, then.” Bruno turned and pushed aside a clump of bushes. “Welcome to the Jackals’ Den.”
    Claire was the first to step into the clearing. Seeing stone steps, slippery with moss, she realized this was no natural opening in thetrees, but something man-made. Something very old. She mounted the steps to a circular terrace built of weathered granite, and entered a ring of thirteen giant boulders, where her classmates Lester Grimmett and