The Silent Girl

the link.
I
was the reason they were chosen.” Her voice broke and she sank into the chair again. “Here I’ve been living with my little girl, safe and secure in Maine. I never knew there were other victims. If only I’d been braver, I could have stopped this a long time ago.”
    “It
has
been stopped, Susan. And you
did
have a role in it.”
    She looked at Jane, her eyes glistening. “Only a minor role. Detective Ingersoll died for it. And you’re the one who finished it.”
    But not alone, thought Jane. I had help.
    “Mom?” The girl’s voice drifted in from the shadows outside. Samantha stood beyond the screen, her slim figure silhouetted against the reflected light from the lake behind her. “Dad said to come get you. He’s not sure if it’s time to take the pie out of the oven.”
    “I’m coming, sweetheart.” Susan rose to her feet. As she swung open the screen door, she glanced back and smiled at Jane. “Dinner’s ready. Come when you get hungry,” she said, and she stepped out, letting the door squeal shut behind her.
    From the porch, Jane watched Susan take Samantha’s hand. Together, mother and daughter walked away along the water’s edge and faded into the twilight. They held hands the whole way.

THREE MONTHS LATER
FUJIAN PROVINCE, CHINA
    T HE SWEET SCENT OF INCENSE WAFTS ACROSS THE COURTYARD where Bella and I stand before the tomb of her father’s ancestors. It is an ancient cemetery. For at least a thousand years, generations of the Wu family have been interred here, and now Wu Weimin’s ashes lie joined with his forefathers. No longer does his tormented soul wander the spirit world, crying out for justice. Here he will finally lie, for an eternity, in peace.
    As the shadows deepen to night, Bella and I light candles and bow to her father’s memory. Suddenly I sense the presence of someone else, and I turn to see a figure step through the courtyard gate. Although I cannot see his face in the gloom, I know by his silent approach, by the easy grace with which he moves, that it is Wu Weimin’s son by his first wife, the son who has never forgotten him and has continued to honor him. As the man moves into the glow of candlelight, Bella nods to her half brother and he returns the greeting witha sad smile. They are so alike, these two, both as unyielding as the stone that entombs their father’s ashes. Now that their duty has been fulfilled, I wonder what will become of them. When you have devoted half your young life to a single goal, and you finally reach it, what is left to be accomplished?
    He gives me a respectful bow. “
Sifu
, I am sorry to be late. My flight from Shanghai was delayed because of weather.”
    I study his face in the candlelight and I see more than fatigue in the worry lines around his eyes. “Are there problems in Boston?”
    “I believe she knows. I feel her watching and probing. I sense her suspicion every time she looks at me.”
    “What will happen now?”
    He gives a long sigh and stares at the burning candles. “I think—I hope—that she understands. She wrote me a glowing commendation. And she wants me to work with her on another Chinatown investigation.”
    I smile at Johnny Tam. “Detective Rizzoli is not so different from us. She may not agree with the way we accomplished our objective, but I believe she understands why we did it. And she approves.”
    I touch a match to the courtyard fire pit, lighting the tinder. Flames leap up like ravenous teeth, and we feed them joss papers of spirit money. The fire consumes them, and as the smoke lifts, it carries comfort and fortune to the ghosts of those we love.
    There is one final item we must burn.
    As I pull the mask from its sack, the silvery hair reflects firelight and suddenly seems alive, as if the spirit of Sun Wukong himself has sprung from the shadows. But the mask hangs limp in my grasp, merely a dead object made of leather and monkey fur, a moldering prop that I bought years ago from a Chinese opera company. All three of us have worn the mask. All three of us have shared the role. I, while defending myself on the rooftop against a woman assassin. Bella, while saving a policewoman’s life. And Johnny last of all, when he fired the bullet into Patrick Dion’s head, completing the circle of death.
    I drop the mask into the flames. Instantly the hairs catch fire and I smell sizzling fur and charred leather. In one bright flare, the mask is consumed, returning Sun Wukong to the spirit