Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Set

Bradley’s parents an ultimatum: Either the boy went for treatment, or he faced incarceration. The Roses chose to send him out of state so the gossip wouldn’t find its way into their exclusive circle of friends. Bradley came to the institute and stayed for two years.”
    “That seems like a pretty long stay.”
    “It was his father’s request. Kimball wanted the boy fully straightened out so the family wouldn’t be embarrassed by him again. The mother wanted him back home, but Kimball prevailed. And Bradley seemed contented enough with us. At the institute, we had woods and hiking trails, even a pond for fishing. He enjoyed the outdoors and he managed to make some friends.”
    “Friends like Jimmy Otto?”
    Hilzbrich grimaced at the mention of that name.
    “I see you remember Jimmy, too,” said Jane.
    “Yes,” he said softly. “Jimmy was…memorable.”
    “You’ve heard that he’s dead? He was shot to death twelve years ago, in San Diego. When he broke into a woman’s house.”
    He nodded. “A detective called me from San Diego. He wanted background information. Whether I thought Jimmy might have been committing a criminal act when he was killed.”
    “I’m assuming you told him yes.”
    “I’ve treated hundreds of sociopathic boys, Detective. Boys who’ve set fires, tortured animals, assaulted classmates. But only a few have really scared me.” He met her gaze. “Jimmy Otto was one of them. He was the consummate predator.”
    “And it must have rubbed off on Bradley.”
    Hilzbrich blinked. “What?”
    “You don’t know about their partnership? They hunted together, Bradley and Jimmy. And they met at your institute. You didn’t notice?”
    “We had only thirty inpatients, so of course they’d know each other. They would have participated in group therapy together. But these boys were completely different personalities.”
    “Maybe that’s why they worked so well together. They would have complemented each other. One the leader, the other the follower. We don’t know who chose the victims, or who did the actual killing, but it’s clear they
were
partners. They were compiling a collection together. Until the night Jimmy was killed.” She fixed him with a hard gaze. “Now Bradley’s carried on without him.”
    “Then he’s turned into a different person than I remember. Look, I knew that
Jimmy
was dangerous. Even as a fifteen-year-old, he scared me. He scared everyone, including his own parents. But Bradley?” He shook his head. “Yes, he’s amoral. Yes, you could persuade him to do anything, maybe even kill. But he’s a follower, not a leader. He needs someone to direct him, someone to make the decisions.”
    “Another partner like Jimmy, you mean.”
    Hilzbrich gave a shudder. “Thank God there aren’t a lot of monsters like Jimmy Otto around. I hate to think about what Bradley might have learned from him.”
    Her gaze dropped to the photos on the table.
He learned enough to carry on alone. Enough to become every bit as monstrous as Jimmy.
    She looked at Hilzbrich. “You say you can’t give me Bradley’s records.”
    “I told you. They’ve been destroyed.”
    “Then give me Jimmy Otto’s.”
    He hesitated, puzzled by her request. “Why?”
    “Jimmy’s dead, so he can’t complain about patient confidentiality.”
    “What good will the files do you?”
    “He was Bradley’s partner. They traveled together, killed together. If I can understand Jimmy, it may give me a window into the man Bradley has become.”
    He considered her request for a moment, then nodded and stood up. “I’ll have to find the file. It may take me a while.”
    “You keep it here?”
    “You think I can afford to pay for storage? All the institute’s files are here in my house. If you wait, I’ll get it,” he said, and walked out of the room.
    The grotesque photos on the coffee table had served their purpose, and she couldn’t bear looking at them any longer. As she gathered them together, she had a disturbing image of a fourth victim, another dark-haired beauty salted down to jerky, and she wondered if at that very moment Josephine was being ushered into the afterworld.
    Her cell phone rang. She dropped the photos to answer it.
    “It’s me,” said Barry Frost.
    She hadn’t expected a call from him. Steeling herself for an update on his marital woes, she asked gently: “How are you doing?”
    “I just spoke to Dr. Welsh.”
    She had no idea who Dr. Welsh was. “Is that the