Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Set

head. “I don’t see any perfusion.”
    “No, look. It’s definitely changing color.” He pressed his palm against the flesh. “I think it’s warming up.”
    Maura frowned at skin that looked every bit as dead and pale as it had before, but she said nothing. It made no difference what she thought; Doug had convinced himself that the operation was a success, that they’d done exactly what they should have. That everything was going to be fine. In Doug’s world, everything always turned out fine. So be bold, jump out of planes, and let the universe take care of you.
    At least the tourniquet was now off. At least he was no longer bleeding.
    She rose to her feet, the sour stink of Arlo’s sweat on her clothes. Exhausted by his ordeal, Arlo was now quiet and drifting to sleep. Massaging her aching neck, she went to the window and stared out, relieved to turn her attention to something else, anything else but their patient. “It’s going to be dark in an hour,” she said. “We can’t get out of here now.”
    “Not in the Jeep,” said Doug. “Not with that broken tire chain.” She could hear him rattling through all the pill bottles. “We have enough Percocet to keep him comfortable for at least another day. Plus Elaine says she has codeine in her purse, if I can just find it.”
    Maura turned from the window. Everyone looked as drained as she felt. Elaine sat slumped against the couch. Doug was staring listlessly at the array of pill bottles. And Grace—Grace had long ago fled the room.
    “He needs to get to a hospital,” said Maura.
    “You said you’re expected back in Boston tonight,” said Elaine. “They’ll be searching.”
    “The problem is, they won’t know where to look.”
    “There was that old guy in the gas station. The one who sold you the newspaper. He’ll remember us. When he hears you’re missing, he’ll call the police. Eventually
someone’s
going to show up here.”
    Maura looked down at Arlo, who had sunk back into unconsciousness.
But not soon enough for him
.

W HAT DID YOU WANT TO SHOW ME?” ASKED D OUG .
    “Just come with me,” whispered Maura. Pausing at the door, she glanced back at the room, where the others had fallen asleep. Now was the time to slip away. She picked up the kerosene lamp and stepped outside, into the night.
    A full moon had risen, and the sky was awash in stars. She did not need the lamp to see the way; the snow itself seemed to luminesce beneath their boots. The wind had died, and the only sound was their footsteps crunching through the icy glaze that coated the snow like meringue. She led the way up the row of silent houses.
    “You want to give me a hint?” he asked.
    “I didn’t want to talk about it in front of Grace. But I found something.”
    “What?”
    “It’s in this house.” She stopped before the porch and stared up at black windows that reflected no starlight, no moonlight, as if thedarkness within could swallow up even the faintest glimmer of light. She walked up the steps and pushed open the door. The lamp cast a feeble pool of light around them as they crossed the living room. Beyond that pool, in the shadowy circumference, lurked the dark silhouettes of furniture and the reflected glint off the picture frame. The dark-haired man stared back from the portrait, his eyes almost alive in the shadows.
    “That’s what I noticed first,” she said, pointing to the birdcage in the corner.
    Doug moved closer and peered into the cage at the canary lying on the bottom. “Another dead pet.”
    “Like the dog.”
    “Who leaves a pet canary behind to starve?”
    “This bird didn’t starve,” said Maura.
    “What?”
    “Look, there’s plenty of seed.” She brought the lamp up to the cage to show him that the feeder was filled with birdseed, and ice had frozen in the water dispenser. “The windows were left open in this house, too,” she said.
    “It froze to death.”
    “There’s more.” She moved up the hallway and pointed at the streak across the pine floorboards, as though someone had swiped a paintbrush. In the dim candlelight, the stain looked more black than brown.
    Doug stared at the drag mark, and he didn’t try to explain it. He didn’t say anything at all. In silence he followed the smear as it grew broader, until it led him to the staircase. There he stopped, staring down at the dried pool of blood at his feet.
    Maura raised the lamp and the light revealed dark spatters on the steps. “The splash marks