Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Set

Peyton’s heart without being moved by its symbolism.
    It was the heart of a survivor.
    She heard voices in the next room. It was Peter, requesting a patient’s films from the file clerk. A moment later he walked into the reading room and paused when he saw her, standing by the light box.
    “You’re still here?” he said.
    “So are you.”
    “But I’m the one on call tonight. Why don’t you go home?”
    Catherine turned back to Nina’s chest X ray. “I want to be sure this patient is stable first.”
    He came to stand right beside her, so tall, so imposing, that she had to fight the impulse to step away. He scanned the film.
    “Other than some atelectasis, I don’t see much there to worry about.” He focused on the name “Jane Doe” in the corner of the film. “Is this the woman in Bed Twelve? The one with all the cops hanging around?”
    “Yes.”
    “I see you extubated her.”
    “A few hours ago,” she said reluctantly. She had no wish to talk about Nina Peyton, no wish to reveal her personal involvement in the case. But Peter kept asking questions.
    “Her blood gases okay?”
    “They’re adequate.”
    “And she’s otherwise stable?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then why don’t you go home? I’ll cover for you.”
    “I’d like to keep an eye on this patient myself.”
    He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Since when did you stop trusting your own partner?”
    At once she froze at his touch. He felt it and withdrew his hand.
    After a silence, Peter moved away and began hanging his X rays on the box, shoving them briskly into place. He’d brought in an abdominal CT series, and the films took up an entire row of clips. When he had finished hanging them, he stood very still, his eyes hidden by the X ray images reflected in his glasses.
    “I’m not the enemy, Catherine,” he said softly, not looking at her but focusing instead on the light box. “I wish I could make you believe that. I keep thinking there’s got to be something I did, something I said, that’s changed things between us.” At last he looked at her. “We used to rely on each other. As partners, at the very least. Hell, the other day, we practically held hands in that man’s chest! And now you won’t even let me cover for one patient. By now, don’t you know me well enough to trust me?”
    “There’s no other surgeon I trust more than you.”
    “Than what’s going on here? I get to work in the morning, and find out we’ve had a break-in. And you won’t talk to me about it. I ask you about your patient in Bed Twelve, and you won’t talk to me about her, either.”
    “The police have asked me not to.”
    “The police seem to be running your life these days. Why?”
    “I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”
    “I’m not just your partner, Catherine. I thought I was your friend.” He took a step toward her. He was a physically imposing man, and his mere approach suddenly made her feel claustrophobic. “I can see you’re scared. You lock yourself in your office. You look like you haven’t slept in days. I can’t stand by and watch this.”
    Catherine yanked Nina Peyton’s X ray off the light box and slid it into the envelope. “It has nothing to do with you.”
    “Yes, it does, if it affects you.”
    Her defensiveness instantly turned to anger. “Let’s get something straight here, Peter. Yes, we work together, and yes, I respect you as a surgeon. I like you as a partner. But we don’t share our lives. And we certainly don’t share our secrets.”
    “Why don’t we?” he said softly. “What are you afraid of telling me?”
    She stared at him, unnerved by the gentleness of his voice. In that instant, she wanted more than anything to unburden herself, to tell him what had happened to her in Savannah in all its shameful detail. But she knew the consequences of such a confession. She understood that to be raped was to be forever tainted, forever a victim. She could not tolerate pity. Not from Peter, the one man whose respect meant everything to her.
    “Catherine?” He reached out.
    Through tears she looked at his outstretched hand. And like a drowning woman who chooses the black sea instead of rescue, she did not take it.
    Instead she turned and walked out of the room.
     

twelve
    J ane Doe has moved.
    I hold a tube of her blood in my hand, and am disappointed that it is cool to the touch. It has been sitting in the phlebotomist’s rack too long, and the body heat this tube once contained has radiated