The Apprentice: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

palm facing forward, as though he were about to swear in court to tell the truth. With his left hand, he pointed to his open palm. And he smiled.
    “What the hell’s that all about?” said Canady.
    Rizzoli didn’t answer. In silence she watched as Hoyt turned, walked to the exit, and vanished out the door.
    “Play it again,” she said softly.
    “You have any idea what that hand thing was all about?”
    “Play it again.”
    Canady scowled and hit REWIND, then PLAY .
    Once again, Hoyt walked to the door. Turned. Walked back to the camera, his gaze focused on those who were now watching.
    She sat with every muscle tensed, her heart racing, as she waited for his next gesture. The one she already understood.
    He raised his palm.
    “Pause it,” she said. “Right here!”
    Canady hit PAUSE .
    On the screen, Hoyt stood frozen with a smile on his face, his left index finger pointing to the open palm of his right hand. The image left her stunned.
    It was Arlen who finally broke the silence. “What does it mean? Do you know?”
    She swallowed. “Yes.”
    “Well,
what
?” snapped Canady.
    She opened her hands, which had been closed into fists on her lap. On both her palms were the scars left from Hoyt’s attack a year ago, thick knots that had healed over the two holes torn by his scalpels.
    Arlen and Canady stared at her scars.
    “Hoyt did that to you?” said Arlen.
    She nodded. “That’s what it means. That’s why he raised his hand.” She looked at the TV, where Hoyt was still smiling, his palm open to the camera. “It’s a little joke, just between us. His way of saying hello. The Surgeon is talking to me.”
    “You must have pissed him off big-time,” said Canady. He waved the remote at the screen. “Look at that. It’s like he’s saying, ‘Up yours.’ ”
    “Or ‘I’ll be seeing you,’ ” Arlen said quietly.
    His words chilled her.
Yes, I know I’ll be seeing you. I just don’t know when or where.
    Canady pressed PLAY , and the tape continued. They watched Hoyt lower his hand, and he turned once again toward the exit. As he walked away, Rizzoli focused on the bundle wedged under his arm.
    “Stop it again,” she said.
    Canady hit PAUSE .
    She leaned forward and touched the screen. “What is this thing he’s carrying? It looks like a rolled-up towel.”
    “It is,” said Canady.
    “Why would he walk out with that?”
    “It’s not the towel. It’s what he has inside it.”
    She frowned, thinking about what she had just seen upstairs in the O.R. Remembered the empty tray next to the table.
    She looked at Arlen. “Instruments,” she said. “He took surgical instruments.”
    Arlen nodded. “There’s a laparotomy set missing from the room.”
    “Laparotomy? What’s that?”
    “It’s medical-speak for cutting open the abdomen,” said Canady.
    On-screen, Hoyt had walked out the exit and they saw only an empty hallway, a closed door. Canady shut off the TV and turned to her. “Looks like your boy’s anxious to go back to work.”
    The chirp of her cell phone made her flinch. She could feel her heart hammering as she reached for her phone. The two men were watching her, so she stood and turned to the window before answering the call.
    It was Gabriel Dean. “You’re aware the forensic anthropologist is meeting us at three o’clock?” he said.
    She looked at her watch. “I’ll be there on time.” Barely.
    “Where are you?”
    “Look, I’ll be there, okay?” She hung up. Staring out the window, she drew in a deep breath. I can’t keep up, she thought. The monsters are stretching me too thin. . . .
    “Detective Rizzoli?” said Canady.
    She turned to him. “I’m sorry. I have to get back to the city. You’ll call me the instant you hear anything about Hoyt?”
    He nodded. Smiled. “We don’t think it’ll take long.”

    The last person she felt like speaking to was Dean, but as she drove into the M.E.’s parking lot she saw him stepping out of his car. She quickly pulled into a space and turned off her engine, thinking that if she just waited a few minutes, he would walk into the building first, and she could avoid any unnecessary conversation with him. Unfortunately, he had already spotted her, and he stood waiting in the parking lot, an unavoidable obstacle. She had no choice but to deal with him.
    She stepped out into the wilting heat and walked toward him, at the pace of one with no time to waste.
    “You never came back to the meeting this morning,” he