The Apprentice: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

and look.
    Her apartment intercom buzzed. She snapped straight, pulse galloping, alarms lighting up every nerve. She was not expecting visitors, nor did she want any.
    The buzzer rang again, the sound like steel wool against raw nerve endings.
    She rose and went into the living room to press the intercom button. “Yes?”
    “It’s Gabriel Dean. May I come up?”
    Of all people, his was the last voice she’d expected to hear. She was so startled that for a moment she didn’t respond. “Detective Rizzoli?” he said.
    “What is this about, Agent Dean?”
    “The autopsy. There are issues we need to talk about.”
    She pressed the lock release and almost immediately wished she hadn’t. She didn’t trust Dean, yet she was about to let him into the safe haven of her apartment. With the careless press of a button, the decision had been made, and now she could not change her mind.
    She’d barely had time to pull on a cotton bathrobe when he knocked. Through the fish-eye lens of the door’s peephole his sharp features appeared distorted. Ominous. By the time she’d unfastened all the various locks, that grotesquely distorted image had solidified in her mind. Reality was far less threatening. The man who stood in her doorway had tired eyes and a face that registered the strain of having witnessed too many horrors on too little sleep.
    Yet his first question was about her: “Are you holding up all right?”
    She understood the implication of that question: That she was
not
all right. That she was in need of checking up on, an unstable cop about to fracture into brittle shards.
    “I’m perfectly fine,” she said.
    “You left so soon after the autopsy. Before we had the chance to talk.”
    “About what?”
    “Warren Hoyt.”
    “What do you want to know about him?”
    “Everything.”
    “I’m afraid that would take all night. And I’m tired.” She tugged her bathrobe tighter, suddenly self-conscious. It had always been important to her to appear professional, and she usually slipped on a blazer before heading to a crime scene. Now she stood before Dean in nothing more than her robe and underwear, and she did not like this feeling of vulnerability.
    She reached for the door, a gesture with an unmistakable message:
This conversation is over.
    He didn’t budge from her doorway. “Look, I admit I made a mistake. I should have listened to you from the start. You were the one who saw it first. I didn’t recognize the parallels with Hoyt.”
    “That’s because you never knew him.”
    “So tell me about him. We need to work together, Jane.”
    Her laughter was sharp as glass. “Now you’re interested in teamwork? This is new and different.”
    Resigned to the fact that he was not leaving, she turned and walked into the living room. He followed her, shutting the door behind him.
    “Talk to me about Hoyt.”
    “You can read his file.”
    “I already have.”
    “Then you’ve got everything you need.”
    “Not everything.”
    She turned to face him. “What else is there?”
    “I want to know what you know.” He stepped closer, and she felt a thrill of alarm because she was at such a disadvantage, standing before him in her bare feet, too exhausted to fend off his assault. It
felt
like an assault, all these demands he was making and the way his gaze seemed to penetrate what little clothing she wore.
    “There’s some sort of emotional bond between you two,” he said. “An attachment.”
    “Don’t call it a fucking
attachment.
”
    “What would you call it?”
    “He was the perp. I’m the one who cornered him. It’s as simple as that.”
    “Not so simple, from what I’ve heard. Whether or not you want to admit it, there
is
an attachment between you two. He’s purposefully stepped back into your life. That grave site where they left Karenna Ghent’s body was not chosen at random.”
    She said nothing. On that point she could not disagree.
    “He’s a hunter, just like you are,” said Dean. “You both hunt humans. That’s one bond between you. Common ground.”
    “There is no common ground.”
    “But you understand each other. No matter what your feelings are, you’re linked to him. You saw his influence on the Dominator before anyone else did. You were way ahead of us.”
    “And you thought I needed a shrink.”
    “Yes. At the time, I did.”
    “So now I’m not crazy. I’m brilliant.”
    “You’ve got the inside track into his mind. You can help us figure out what he’ll do