The Silent Girl

punished, would you do any less? No matter how many years went by?”
    A moment passed, the two women staring at each other. Jane imagined herself waking up every morning in this shabby home, imagined living with unspeakable grief, obsessing over happiness lost. Searching for reasons, for any explanation for her ruined life. Sitting in this room, on this threadbare armchair, she felt despair settle on her shoulders, dragging her down, smothering all joy. This is not even my world, she thought. I can go home and kiss my husband. I can hug my daughter and tuck her into bed. But Iris will still be trapped here.
    “It’s been nineteen years, Mrs. Fang,” said Jane. “I understand it’s not easy to move on. But the other families want to. Patrick Dion, Mark Mallory—they have no doubt that Wu Weimin was the killer. Maybe it’s time for you to accept what they accepted long ago.”
    Iris’s chin lifted and her eyes were hard as flint. “I won’t accept anything less than the truth.”
    “How do you know it’s
not
true? According to the police report, the evidence against Wu Weimin was overwhelming.”
    “The police did not know him.”
    “Can you be sure you did?”
    “Yes, completely. And this is my final chance to make things right.”
    Jane frowned at her. “What do you mean, your final chance?”
    Iris drew a breath and lifted her head. The look she gave Jane was both dignified and calm. “I am sick.”
    The room went silent. That simple statement had stunned them all. Iris sat perfectly composed, staring back at Jane as if daring her to offer any pity.
    “I have a chronic form of leukemia,” said Iris. “The doctor tells me I could live another ten years. Or perhaps even twenty years. Some days I feel perfectly well. Other days, I’m so tired I can scarcely lift my head off the pillow. One day, this illness will probably kill me, but I’m not afraid. I merely refuse to die without knowing the truth. Without seeing justice done.” She paused, and the first note of fear slipped into her voice. “I feel time running through my fingers.”
    Frost moved behind Iris and placed his hand on her shoulder. It was simply a gesture of sympathy, something anyone might do, but Jane was troubled by that touch, and by the stricken look she saw in his eyes.
    “She can’t stay here alone tonight,” Frost said. “It’s not safe.”
    Tam said, “I just got off the phone with Bella Li. Mrs. Fang can spend the night with her while CSU processes the scene.”
    Frost said, “I’ll drive her there.”
    “No,” Jane said. “Tam will take her. Mrs. Fang, why don’t you pack a bag?” She rose from the chair. “Detective Frost, can you step outside with me? We need to check the perimeter.”
    “But—”
    “Frost.”
    He glanced back and forth between Iris and Jane, and finally followed Jane out the front door, into a night that was filmy with mist.
    The instant the door swung shut, she said: “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
    “I wish I could. Obviously someone’s trying to scare her. Trying to stop her from asking questions.”
    “No, I’m talking about
you
. How you ended up taking her to dinner. Turning into her white knight.”
    “I came to ask about what happened to her daughter. You know that.”
    “How did an interview turn into dinner?”
    “We were hungry. It just happened.”
    “Accidents just happen. But going out to dinner with a subject you’re questioning? That’s something else entirely.”
    “She’s not a suspect.”
    “We don’t know that.”
    “For God’s sake, Rizzoli, she’s a victim. She lost her husband in a shooting and now all she wants is justice.”
    “We don’t know what she really wants. Frankly, I can’t figure out what you want, either.”
    The glow of the yellow porch light, diffused by mist, framed his head like a spectral halo. Saint Barry, the Boy Scout, she thought. The cop you could always count on to do the right thing. Now he stood before her, avoiding her gaze, looking as guilty as a man could look.
    “I feel sorry for her,” he said.
    “Is that all you feel?”
    “And I just wish …” He sighed. “It’s been nineteen years since her husband died, and she still loves him. She still carries a torch for him. Alice couldn’t even make it ten years before she walked out on me. I look at Iris and I think, Why the hell didn’t I marry someone like her?”
    “The woman’s almost old enough to be your