Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Set

Andrew. Tell me what happens next.”
    “The screen has gone black again. I don’t see anything.”
    She has not yet shaken off the Rohypnol.
    “Fast-forward, past this black part. To the next thing you see. What is it?”
    “Light. I see light.…”
    Polochek paused. “I want you to zoom out, Catherine. I want you to pull back, to see more of the room. What is on the screen?”
    “Things. Lying on the nightstand.”
    “What things?”
    “Instruments. A scalpel. I see a scalpel.”
    “Where is Andrew?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “He’s not there in the room?”
    “He’s gone. I can hear water running.”
    “What happens next?”
    She was breathing fast, her voice agitated. “I pull on the ropes. Try to get myself free. I can’t move my feet. But my right hand—the rope is loose around my wrist. I pull. I keep pulling and pulling. My wrist is bleeding.”
    “Andrew is still out of the room?”
    “Yes. I hear him laughing. I hear his voice. But it’s somewhere else in the house.”
    “What is happening to the rope?”
    “It’s coming off. The blood makes it slippery, and my hand slides out.…”
    “What do you do then?”
    “I reach for the scalpel. I cut the rope on my other wrist. Everything takes so long. I’m sick to my stomach. My hands don’t work right. They’re so slow, and the room keeps going dark and light and dark. I can still hear his voice, talking. I reach down and cut my left ankle free. Now I hear his footsteps. I try to climb off the bed, but my right ankle is still tied. I roll over the side and fall on the floor. On my face.”
    “And then?”
    Andrew is there, in the doorway. He looks surprised. I reach under the bed. And I feel the gun.”
    “There’s a gun under your bed?”
    “Yes. My father’s gun. But my hand is so clumsy, I can barely hold it. And things are starting to go black again.”
    “Where is Andrew?”
    “He is walking toward me.…”
    “And what happens, Catherine?”
    “I’m holding the gun. And there’s a sound. A loud sound.”
    “The gun has fired?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did you fire the gun?”
    “Yes.”
    “What does Andrew do?”
    “He falls. His hands are on his stomach. There’s blood leaking through his fingers.”
    “And what happens next?”
    A long pause.
    “Catherine? What do you see on the movie screen?”
    “Black. The screen has gone black.”
    “And when does the next image appear on that screen?”
    “People. So many people in the room.”
    “Which people?”
    “Policemen …”
    Moore almost groaned in disappointment. This was the vital gap in her memory. The Rohypnol, combined with the after-effects of that blow on her head, had dragged her back into unconsciousness. Catherine did not remember firing the second shot. They still did not know how Andrew Capra had ended up with a bullet in his brain.
    Polochek was looking at the window, a question in his eyes. Were they satisfied?
    To Moore’s surprise, Rizzoli suddenly opened the door and gestured to Polochek to come into the next room. He did, leaving Catherine alone, and shut the door.
    “Make her go back, to before she shot him. When she’s still lying on the bed,” said Rizzoli. “I want you to focus on what she’s hearing in the other room. The water running. Capra’s laughter. I want to know every sound she hears.”
    “Any particular reason?”
    “Just do it.”
    Polochek nodded and went back to the interview room. Catherine had not moved; she sat absolutely still, as though Polochek’s absence had left her in suspended animation.
    “Catherine,” he said gently, “I want you to rewind the movie. We’re going to go back, before the gunshot. Before you’ve gotten your hands free and rolled onto the floor. We’re at a point in the movie where you’re still lying on the bed and Andrew is not in the room. You said you heard water running.”
    “Yes.”
    “Tell me everything you hear.”
    “Water. I hear it in the pipes. The hiss. And I hear it gurgling down the drain.”
    “He’s running water into a sink?”
    “Yes.”
    “And you said you heard laughter.”
    “Andrew is laughing.”
    “Is he talking?”
    A pause. “Yes.”
    “What does he say?”
    “I don’t know. He’s too far away.”
    “Are you sure it’s Andrew? Could it be the TV?”
    “No, it’s him. It’s Andrew.”
    “Okay. Slow down the movie. Go second by second. Tell me what you hear.”
    “Water, still running. Andrew says, ‘Easy.’ The word