Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Set

scene.”
    “Our office is familiar with the Perkins boy,” said Fahey. “We’ve picked him up numerous times for various infractions. What we can’t figure out is his connection to the woman.”
    “His connection?” said Jane. “Maura’s his hostage!”
    In the front row, Montgomery Loftus gave a snort. “Not what I saw.”
    “What you
thought
you saw,” Jane countered.
    The man turned and gave the three visitors from Boston a cold stare. “You people weren’t there.”
    Fahey said, “Ma’am, we’ve known Monty all our lives. He’s not going to go making stuff up.”
    Then maybe he needs glasses
, Jane wanted to say, but she swallowed the retort. The three Boston visitors were outnumbered in this town hall, where dozens of locals had assembled for the briefing. The murder of a deputy had shocked the community, and volunteers had streamed in, eager to bring the killer to justice. Volunteers with guns and grim faces and righteous anger. Jane looked around at those faces and felt a premonitory chill. They’re spoiling for a kill, she thought. And it doesn’t matter that their quarry is a sixteen-year-old kid.
    A woman suddenly called out from the back row. “Julian Perkins is just a boy! You can’t be serious about sending an armed posse after him.”
    “He killed a deputy, Cathy,” said Fahey. “He’s not
just
a boy.”
    “I know Julian better than any of you do. I have a hard time believing that he’d kill anyone.”
    “Excuse me,” said Detective Pasternak. “I’m not from this county. Maybe you could introduce yourself, ma’am?”
    The young woman stood, and Jane immediately recognized her. It was the social worker they’d met at the scene of the Circle B double homicide. “I’m Cathy Weiss, Sublette County Child Protective Services. I’ve been Julian’s caseworker for the past year.”
    “And you don’t believe he could have killed Deputy Martineau?” said Pasternak.
    “No, sir.”
    “Cathy, look at his rap sheet,” said Fahey. “The kid’s no angel.”
    “But he’s no monster. Julian is a victim. He’s a sixteen-year-old kid just trying to survive, in a world where nobody wants him.”
    “Most kids manage to survive just fine without breaking into homes and stealing cars.”
    “Most kids aren’t used and abused by cults.”
    Fahey rolled his eyes. “Here we go again with that stuff.”
    “I’ve warned you about The Gathering for years. Ever since they moved into this county and built their perfect little Stepford village. Now you’re seeing the result. This is what happens when you ignore the danger signs. When you look the other way while pedophiles operate right under your noses.”
    “You have absolutely no proof. We’ve looked into the allegations. Bobby went up there three times, and all he found were hardworking families who just want to be left alone.”
    “Left alone to abuse their children.”
    “Can we get back to the business at hand?” a man shouted from the audience.
    “Yeah, you’re wasting our time!”
    “This
is
the business at hand,” said Cathy, looking around the town hall. “This is the boy you’re all so eager to hunt down. A kid who’s been crying out for help. And no one’s been listening.”
    “Ms. Weiss,” said Detective Pasternak, “the search team needs all the information they can get before they set off tomorrow. You say you know Julian Perkins. Tell us what to expect from this boy. He’s out there on a bitterly cold night, with a woman who may be a hostage. Is he even capable of surviving?”
    “Absolutely,” she said.
    “You’re that sure of it?”
    “Because he’s the grandson of Absolem Perkins.”
    There was a murmur of recognition in the room, and Detective Pasternak looked around, puzzled. “I’m sorry. Is that significant?”
    “You’d know the name if you grew up in Sublette County,” said Montgomery Loftus. “Backwoods man. Built his own cabin, lived up in the Bridger-Teton Mountains. I used to catch him hunting near my property.”
    “Julian spent most of his childhood up there,” said Cathy. “With a grandfather who taught him how to forage. How to stay alive in the wilderness with only an ax and his wits. So yes, he could survive.”
    “What’s he doing up in the mountains, anyway?” asked Jane.“Why isn’t he in school?” She didn’t think it was a stupid question, but she heard laughter ripple through the hall.
    “The Perkins kid, in school?” Fahey shook his head.