The Apprentice: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

needed it.”
    “Zucker thinks you haven’t let go of the Surgeon yet. That you see Warren Hoyt under every rock. How can you lead this investigation if you’re still reliving the last one?”
    “I guess I’d like to hear it from you, Lieutenant. Do
you
think I’m unstable?”
    Marquette sighed. “I don’t know. But when Agent Dean comes in here and lays out his concerns, I’ve got to take notice.”
    “I don’t believe Agent Dean is an entirely reliable source.”
    Marquette paused. Leaned forward with a frown. “That’s a serious charge.”
    “No more serious than the charge he’s leveling at me.”
    “You have anything to back it up?”
    “I called the FBI’s Boston office this morning.”
    “Yes?”
    “They know nothing about Agent Gabriel Dean.”
    Marquette sat back in his chair and regarded her for a moment, saying nothing.
    “He came here straight from Washington,” she said. “The Boston office had nothing to do with it. That’s not the way it’s supposed to work. If we ask them for a criminal profile, it always goes through their area field division coordinator. This didn’t go through their field division. It came straight from Washington. Why is the FBI mucking around in my investigation in the first place? And what does Washington have to do with it?”
    Still, Marquette said nothing.
    She pressed on, her frustration building, her control starting to crack. “You told me the order to cooperate came through the police commissioner.”
    “Yes, it did.”
    “Who in the FBI approached OPC? Which part of the Bureau are we dealing with?”
    Marquette shook his head. “It wasn’t the Bureau.”
    “What?”
    “The request didn’t come from the FBI. I spoke to OPC last week, the day Dean showed up. I asked them that same question.”
    “And?”
    “I promised them I’d keep this confidential. I expect the same from you.” Only after she’d given a nod of assent did he continue. “The request came from Senator Conway’s office.”
    She stared at him in bewilderment. “What does our senator have to do with all this?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “OPC wouldn’t tell you?”
    “They may not know, either. But it’s not a request they’d brush off, not when it comes direct from Conway. And he’s not asking for the moon. Just interagency cooperation. We do it all the time.”
    She leaned forward and said, quietly: “Something’s wrong, Lieutenant. You know it. Dean hasn’t been straight with us.”
    “I didn’t call you in here to talk about Dean. We’re talking about you.”
    “But it’s his word you’re relying on. Does the FBI now dictate orders to Boston P.D.?”
    This seemed to take Marquette aback. Abruptly straightening, he eyed her across the desk. She had hit just the right nerve.
The Bureau versus Us. Are you really in charge?
    “Okay,” he said. “We talked. You listened. That’s good enough for me.”
    “For me, too.” She stood up.
    “But I’ll be watching, Rizzoli.”
    She gave him a nod. “Aren’t you always?”

    “I’ve found some interesting fibers,” Erin Volchko said. “They were lifted with sticky tape from the skin of Gail Yeager.”
    “More navy-blue carpet?” asked Rizzoli.
    “No. To be honest, I’m not sure what these are.”
    Erin did not often admit that she was baffled. That alone piqued Rizzoli’s interest in the slide now under the microscope. Through the lens, she saw a single dark strand.
    “We’re looking at a synthetic fiber, whose color I’d characterize as drab green. Based on its refractive indices, this is our old friend DuPont nylon, type six, six.”
    “Just like the navy-blue carpet fibers.”
    “Yes. Nylon six, six is a very popular fiber due to its strength and resilience. You’ll find it in a large variety of fabrics.”
    “You said this was lifted off Gail Yeager’s skin?”
    “These fibers were found clinging to her hips, her breasts, and a shoulder.”
    Rizzoli frowned. “A sheet? Something he used to wrap her body?”
    “Yes, but not a sheet. Nylon wouldn’t be appropriate for that use, due to its low moisture absorbency. Also, these particular threads are made up of extremely fine thirty-denier filaments, ten filaments to a thread. And the thread’s finer than a human hair. This kind of fiber would produce a finished product that’s very tight. Maybe weatherproof.”
    “A tent? A tarp?”
    “Possible. That’s the kind of fabric one might use to wrap a body.”
    Rizzoli had a bizarre