The Apprentice: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

she studied it, she could feel him watching her, sizing her up. She resented his silent appraisal, resented the way he put her on guard, as though he was the one in control.
    “Agent Gabriel Dean,” she said, handing back the badge.
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “May I ask what the FBI’s doing here?”
    “I wasn’t aware we were on opposing teams.”
    “Did I say we were?”
    “You’re giving me the distinct feeling I shouldn’t be here.”
    “The FBI doesn’t usually turn up at our crime scenes. I’m just curious what brings you to this one.”
    “We received an advisory from Newton P.D. about the Yeager homicide.” It was an incomplete answer; he was leaving out too much, forcing her to fish. Withholding information was a form of power, and she understood the game he was playing.
    “I imagine you guys get a lot of routine advisories,” she said.
    “Yes, we do.”
    “Every homicide, isn’t that right?”
    “We’re notified.”
    “Is there something about this one that’s special?”
    He simply gazed at her with that impenetrable expression. “I think the victims would say so.”
    Her anger was working its way like a splinter to the surface. “This body was found only a few hours ago,” she said. “Are these advisories now instantaneous?”
    There was a faint twitch of a smile on his lips. “We’re not entirely out of the loop, Detective. We’d appreciate it if you kept us apprised of your progress. Autopsy reports. Trace evidence. Copies of all witness statements—”
    “That’s a lot of paperwork.”
    “I realize that.”
    “And you want it all?”
    “Yes.”
    “Any particular reason?”
    “A murder and abduction shouldn’t interest us? We’d like to follow this case.”
    As imposing as he was, she didn’t hesitate to challenge him by stepping closer. “When do you plan to start calling the shots?”
    “It remains your case. I’m only here to assist.”
    “Even if I don’t see the need for it?”
    His gaze shifted to the two attendants who’d emerged from the woods and were now loading the stretcher with the remains into the M.E.’s van. “Does it really matter who works the case?” he asked quietly. “As long as this unsub is caught?”
    They watched the van drive away, carrying the already desecrated corpse to further indignities beneath the bright lights of the autopsy suite. Gabriel Dean’s response had reminded her, with punishing clarity, just how unimportant were matters of jurisdiction. Gail Yeager did not care who took credit for the capture of her killer. All she demanded was justice, whoever might deliver it. Justice was what Rizzoli owed her.
    But she’d known the frustration of watching her own hard work claimed by her colleagues. More than once, she had seen men step forward and arrogantly assume command of cases she herself had painstakingly built from scratch. She would not allow it to happen here.
    She said, “I appreciate the Bureau’s offer of help. But at the moment, I think we’ve got all bases covered. I’ll let you know if we need you.” With that, she turned and walked away.
    “I’m not sure you understand the situation,” he said. “We’re part of the same team now.”
    “I don’t recall asking for FBI assistance.”
    “It’s been cleared through your unit commander: Lieutenant Marquette. Would you like to confirm it with him?” He held out his cell phone.
    “I have my own cell phone, thank you.”
    “Then I urge you to call him. So we don’t waste time on turf battles.”
    She was stunned by how easily he had stepped aboard. And by how accurately she had sized him up. This was a man who’d not stand quietly on the sidelines.
    She took out her own phone and began punching in numbers. But before Marquette answered, she heard Patrolman Doud call out her name.
    “Detective Sleeper’s on comm for you,” said Doud, and handed her his walkie-talkie.
    She pressed the transmit button. “Rizzoli.”
    Through a burst of static, she heard Sleeper say: “You might want to get back here.”
    “What have you got?”
    “Uh . . . you’d better see for yourself. We’re about fifty yards north of where the other one was found.”
    The other one?
    She thrust the walkie-talkie back at Doud and charged into the woods. She was in such a hurry, she did not immediately notice that Gabriel Dean was following her. Only when she heard the snap of a twig did she turn and see that he was right behind her, his face grim and implacable. She