Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Set

the way. He cut a ragged figure, moving across that white landscape, the dog huffing at his heels. And here she was, willingly following those two wild and filthy creatures. Maybe it was Stockholm syndrome; for whatever reason, she’d given up any thoughts of fleeing from the boy. She relied on him for food and shelter, and except for the initial blow on the head that first day, when he’d been frantic to keep her quiet, he had not hurt her. In fact, he’d made no move to even touch her. So she had settled into the wary role of part prisoner, part guest, and in that role she followed him into the valley.
    “Rat,” he suddenly said over his shoulder.
    “What?”
    “That’s what my sister, Carrie, calls me.”
    “That’s not a very nice name.”
    “It’s okay. It’s from that movie, about the rat who cooks.”
    “You mean
Ratatouille?
”
    “Yeah. Our grandpa took us to see it. I liked that movie.”
    “I did, too,” said Maura.
    “Anyway, she started calling me Rat, because sometimes I’d cook her breakfast in the morning. But she’s the only one ever calls me that. It’s my secret name.”
    “So I guess I’m not allowed to use it.”
    He walked on for a moment, snowshoes swishing down the slope. After a long silence, he stopped and looked back at her, as if, after much thought, he’d finally come to a decision. “I guess you can, too,” he said, then continued walking. “But you can’t tell anyone.”
    A boy named Rat and a dog named Bear. Right
.
    She was starting to get into the rhythm of walking on snowshoes, moving more easily, but still struggling to keep up with the boy and dog.
    “So your mom and sister were living here, in the valley. What about your father?” she asked.
    “He’s dead.”
    “Oh. I’m sorry.”
    “Died when I was four.”
    “And where’s your grandpa?”
    “He died last year.”
    “I’m sorry,” she repeated automatically.
    He stopped and looked back. “You don’t need to keep saying that.”
    But I am sorry, she thought, looking at his lonely figure standing against the vast background of white. I’m sorry that the men who loved you are gone. I’m sorry that your mother seems to drop in and out of your life whenever it suits her. I’m sorry that the only one you seem able to count on, the only one who stands by you, has four legs and a tail.
    They descended deeper into the valley, entering the zone of destruction.Coming down the ridge, they had caught whiffs of the stench from the burned buildings. With every step they took, the damage appeared more horrifying. Every house had been reduced to blackened ruins, the village devastated as completely as if conquerors had swept through, intent on erasing it from the face of the earth. Except for the creak of their snowshoes, the sound of their breathing, the world was silent.
    They came to a halt next to the remains of the house where Maura and her companions had sheltered. Tears suddenly clouded her vision as she stared at charred wood and shattered glass. Rat and Bear moved on down the line of burned homes, but Maura remained where she was, and in that silence she felt the presence of ghosts. Grace and Elaine, Arlo and Douglas, people whom she had not particularly liked, but with whom she had bonded nevertheless. Here they still lingered, whispering warnings from the ruins.
Leave this place. While you can
. Looking down, she saw tire tracks. This was the proof of arson. While the fires were raging, melting the snow, a truck had left a record of its passage pressed into the now frozen mud.
    She heard an anguished cry and turned in alarm. Rat dropped to his knees beside one of the burned houses. As she moved toward him, she saw that he was clutching something in both hands, like a rosary.
    “She wouldn’t have left this!”
    “What is it, Rat?”
    “Carrie’s. Grandpa gave it to her and she
never
took it off.” Slowly he opened his hands and revealed a heart-shaped pendant, still attached to a strand of broken gold chain.
    “This is your sister’s?”
    “Something’s wrong. It’s all
wrong.
” He rose to his feet, agitated, and began digging into the charred remains of the house.
    “What are you doing?” asked Maura.
    “This was our house. Mom’s and Carrie’s.” He pawed through the ashes, and his gloves were soon black with soot.
    “This pendant doesn’t look like it was in the fire, Rat.”
    “I found it on the road. Like she dropped it there.” He pulled up a burned timber and