Rizzoli & Isles Story 01 - Freaks

frowning.
    “What?”
    “Jane, you just raised a very good point.”
    “I did?”
    “About her lack of resistance to disease processes.”
    “How is that relevant? She was strangled.”
    “It
looked
like strangulation.” Maura set down her chopsticks. “But the autopsy just might reveal something else entirely.”

Chapter Eight
    Through the viewing window, Jane and Frost could see the dead girl lying on the table in the next room. The naked body looked even more wasted than Jane remembered, the hipbones jutting out, every rib shockingly visible. But above the neck, in grotesque contrast with the skeletally thin body, the face was bloated, the eyelids swollen almost shut.
    “You sure you’re up for this?” Jane asked Frost.
    “I’m fine. I’m okay,” he insisted.
    “That’s what you said the last time,” Jane muttered as she pushed into the autopsy room, where Maura and her assistant had already assembled their knives and scalpels, bone-cutters and tweezers. Jane avoided looking at that frightening array of instruments and focused instead on Kimberly Rayner. Once she might have been a pretty blue-eyed blonde who’d turned boys’ heads. Now with so much fat and muscle stripped away, she was a skeletal husk. Had months on a self-imposed diet of “air and blood” caused this?
    “No surprises in her X-rays,” said Maura as she flipped on bright lights. “Let’s take a closer look at the neck.”
    “Still looks like strangulation bruises to me.” Jane glanced at Frost, who was standing yards away from the table, strategically placing himself near the sink. “You should get a closer look at this.”
    “I can see it fine from here,” he said.
    “And see how her face is swollen,” Jane added. “That happens when you constrict the neck, right?”
    “It’s one mechanism,” said Maura.
    “So what else would cause a swollen face?”
    “An allergic reaction. Anaphylaxis.” Above the surgical mask, Maura’s foreheadsuddenly wrinkled into a frown. “Or
Latrodectus facies
,” she said softly.
    “Come again?”
    Maura didn’t answer, but reached for a magnifying glass. Bending close, she turned the girl’s head to expose the side of the neck. Staring at the skin, she murmured: “My God, it’s so small I almost missed it.”
    “What?”
    “A puncture mark.”
    Frost’s cell phone suddenly rang.
    Maura’s focus remained glued to the corpse’s throat. She turned the head the other way to examine the opposite side of the neck. “There’s another one here.”
    “You mean, like needle marks to draw blood?”
    “No, like—”
    “Rizzoli, we gotta go!” yelled Frost. “St. Anthony’s Church.”
    “What’s going on?”
    “The girl’s father. He’s taken Lucas Henry hostage, and he’s threatening to kill him!”

Chapter Nine
    Four Boston PD cruisers were parked in front of St. Anthony’s, rack lights flashing as Jane and Frost scrambled out of their car and ran toward the church.
    “He’s got the boy inside,” a patrolman reported. “We have all the entrances covered, and we’ve been trying to talk him out, but he’s not cooperating.”
    “Let me talk to him,” said Jane, pulling on a Kevlar vest.
    “Ma’am, he’s already fired off a few rounds. That’s how we got the call, when someone in the neighborhood reported gunfire.”
    “Is the boy okay?”
    “He was able to answer us. Other than that, I don’t know.” The patrolman looked her up and down, as though questioning her ability to deal with the situation. “There’s a team on the way. I don’t think you should—”
    “I know Rayner. I’m the one who should do this.” Jane started toward the church entrance. “Mr. Rayner!” she yelled through the door. “It’s Detective Rizzoli. I want to talk to you!”
    From inside came Rayner’s shout: “Don’t bother! It won’t make a difference!”
    At least he wasn’t issuing threats. “I’m opening the door now,” she announced. “I’m coming in alone.” There was no answer. She took a breath and stepped over the threshold.
    It was gloomy inside, lit only by the distant flicker of a burning candle. She could not see Rayner or Lucas, but she could hear the boy’s terrified whimpers somewhere in the shadows. Bat wings flapped overhead.
    “He’s crazy!” Lucas sobbed. “He broke in here while I was sleeping. Says he’s going to kill me.”
    Jane’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she could see them now. Lucas sat huddled against a