Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Set

back to her feet and looked around for the log that she’d dropped. Kicking around in the snow, she bumped up against an obstruction. She dug in with gloved hands and felt a hard lump. Not the log, but something larger, something that was frozen to the ground. This was what she had caught her boot on.
    She brushed away more snow and suddenly went still, staring down at what she’d uncovered. Repulsed, she backed away. Then turned and ran into the house.

T HEY MUST HAVE LEFT HIM OUTSIDE, AND HE FROZE TO DEATH,” SAID Elaine.
    They stood in a solemn circle around the dead dog, like five mourners at a grave, buffeted by a wind with a bite as sharp as glass. Doug had used a shovel to widen the hole, and the dog now lay fully uncovered, its fur glistening with snow. A German shepherd.
    “Who would leave a dog out in this weather?” said Arlo. “It’s cruel.”
    Maura knelt down and pressed her gloved hand against the dog’s flank. The body was frozen solid, the flesh hard as stone. “I don’t see any injuries. And he’s not a stray,” she said. “He looks well fed, and he’s wearing a collar.” On the steel tag was engraved the unlikely name of LUCKY. “He’s obviously someone’s pet.”
    “He might have just wandered out of the house and his owners couldn’t find him in time,” said Doug.
    Grace looked up with stricken eyes. “And then they just left him here, all alone?”
    “Maybe they had to leave in a hurry.”
    “How can anyone do that? We’d never do that to a dog.”
    “We don’t know what really happened here, honey.”
    “You’re going to bury him, aren’t you?”
    “Grace, he’s just a dog.”
    “You can’t leave him out here.”
    Doug sighed. “Okay, I’ll take care of it, I promise. Why don’t you go inside and keep that fire going. I’ll take care of everything.”
    They waited until Grace had retreated into the house. Then Elaine said, “You aren’t really going to bother burying this dog, are you? The ground’s frozen solid.”
    “You saw how freaked out she is.”
    “She’s not the only one,” said Arlo.
    “I’ll just cover it back up with snow. It’s so deep, she won’t know the dog’s still here.”
    “Let’s all go back in the house,” said Elaine. “I’m freezing.”
    “I don’t understand this,” said Maura, still crouched over the dead animal. “Dogs aren’t stupid, especially not German shepherds. He’s well nourished and he has a thick winter coat.” She rose to her feet and surveyed the landscape, her eyes narrowed against the glare of reflected sunlight. “This is the north-facing wall. Why would he end up dying right here?”
    “As opposed to where?” said Elaine.
    “Maura raises a good point,” said Doug.
    “I’m not getting it,” Elaine said, clearly annoyed that no one was following her back into the house.
    “Dogs have common sense,” he said. “They know enough to seek shelter from the cold. He could have dug himself into the snow. Or crawled under the porch. He could have found any number of places where he’d be better protected against the wind, but hedidn’t.” He looked down at the dog. “Instead he ended up here. Fully exposed to the wind, as if he just keeled over and died.”
    They were silent as a gust whipped their clothes and whistled between buildings, whirling white glitter. Maura stared at deep drifts rippling the landscape like giant white waves, and she wondered: What other surprises lie buried beneath the snow?
    Doug turned to look at the other buildings. “Maybe we should take a look at what’s inside those other houses,” he said.
    T HE FOUR OF THEM walked in single file toward the next house, Doug leading the way as he always did, breaking a path through deep snow. They mounted the front steps. Like the house they’d slept in the night before, this one had a porch with an identical swing.
    “You think maybe they got a volume discount?” said Arlo.
“Buy eleven swings, we throw in the twelfth for free?”
    Maura thought of the glassy-eyed woman in the family photo. Imagined a whole village of pale and silent women sitting in these swings, mechanically rocking back and forth like windup dolls. Clone houses, clone people.
    “This door’s unlocked, too,” said Doug, and he pushed it open.
    Just inside lay a toppled chair.
    For a moment, they paused on the threshold, puzzling over that fallen chair. Doug picked it up and set it upright. “Well, that’s sort of weird.”
    “Look,”