Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Set

“That’s like trying to teach higher mathematics to a mule.”
    “I’m afraid Julian had a hard time living here in town,” said Cathy. “He was picked on a lot in school. Got into quite a few fights. He kept running away from his foster home, eight times in thirteen months. The last time he vanished was a few weeks ago, when the weather turned warm. Before he left, he emptied out his foster mother’s pantry, so he’s got enough food to last awhile out there.”
    “We have copies of his photo,” said Fahey, and he handed a stack of papers up the aisle. “So you can all see who we’re looking for.”
    The photos were passed around the audience, and for the first time Jane saw the face of Julian Perkins. It looked like a school photo, with a standard bland background. The boy had clearly made an effort to dress up for the occasion, but he looked painfully ill at ease in a long-sleeved white shirt and a tie. His black hair had been parted and combed, but a few rebellious strands of a cowlick refused to be slicked down. His dark eyes looked directly at the camera, eyes that made Jane think of a dog gazing out of an animal shelter cage. Wary. Untrusting.
    “This photo was taken from last year’s school yearbook,” Fahey said. “It’s the most recent one we could find of him. Since then, he’s probably grown a few inches and put on some muscle.”
    “And he’s got Bobby’s gun,” Loftus added.
    Fahey looked around at the gathering. “The search team assembles at first light. I want every volunteer equipped with overnight winter gear. This isn’t going to be a picnic, so I want only the fittest men out there.” He paused, his gaze settling on Loftus, who caught the meaning of that look.
    “You trying to tell me I shouldn’t go?” said Loftus.
    “I didn’t say anything, Monty.”
    “I can outlast the whole lot of you. And I know that terrain betterthan anybody. It’s my own backyard.” Loftus rose to his feet. Although his hair was silver and his face deeply creased from decades in the outdoors, he looked as sturdy as any man in the room. “Let’s make quick work of this. Before someone else gets killed.” He shoved his hat on his head and walked out.
    As the others began to file out as well, Jane spotted the social worker rising to her feet, and she called out: “Ms. Weiss?”
    The woman turned as Jane approached. “Yes?”
    “We haven’t actually been introduced. I’m Detective Rizzoli.”
    “I know. You’re the folks from Boston.” Cathy glanced at Gabriel and Sansone, who were still pulling on their coats. “You people have made quite an impression on this town.”
    “Can we go someplace and talk? About Julian Perkins.”
    “You mean right now?”
    “Before they use him and our friend for target practice.”
    Cathy looked at her watch and nodded. “There’s a coffee shop right down the block. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”
    I T WAS more like twenty minutes. When Cathy finally swept into the coffee shop, her hair wild and windblown, she brought in the smell of tobacco on her wrinkled, smoke-permeated clothes, and Jane knew she had been sneaking a quick cigarette in her car. Now the woman looked jittery as she slid into the booth where Jane was waiting.
    “So where are your two guys?” asked Cathy, glancing at the empty seats.
    “They went to buy camping gear.”
    “They’re joining the search party tomorrow?”
    “I can’t talk them out of it.”
    Cathy gave her a long and thoughtful look. “You people have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
    “I was hoping you could tell me.”
    The waitress came by with the coffeepot. “Fill it up, Cathy?” she asked.
    “Good and strong, I hope.”
    “Always is.”
    Cathy waited for the waitress to leave before she spoke again. “The situation is complicated.”
    “They made it sound simple in that meeting. Send out the posse, hunt down a cop-killer.”
    “Right. Because people always prefer things simple. Black and white, right and wrong. Julian as the evil kid.” Cathy drank her coffee straight, gulping down the bitter brew without a wince. “That’s not what he is.”
    “What is he, then?”
    Cathy fixed her intense gaze on Jane. “Have you ever heard of the Lost Boys?”
    “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
    “They’re young men, mostly teenagers, who’ve been cast out of their homes and families. They end up abandoned on the streets. Not because they’ve done anything wrong, but