The Silent Girl

a mountain temple. They got famous for their combat skills after they defended the emperor against an uprising. But the art of wushu goes back long before those monks. It’s thousands of years old, so old that no one really knows its true history. And with every century that goes by, the tales get more and more outlandish. That’s how you end up with people thinking that wushu warriors are like ghosts. Impossible to kill.”
    “After last night, I’d almost believe it’s true,” said Jane.
    “Come on.”
    “You weren’t there. You didn’t see it.”
    “I’d almost believe it’s a ghost, too,” Frost said as he studied another video on the screen. “I pulled footage from cameras all over that neighborhood, and so far I haven’t caught a glimpse. It managed to slip through blind spots everywhere.” He pointed to the monitor. “This camera is mounted right across the street from Donohue’s warehouse. It was recording the whole time, yet nothing shows up.”
    “If it’s flesh and blood, it’s going to turn up somewhere,” said Jane.
    Frost switched to a different video. “Okay, now this camera’s about a block away, almost to Summer Street.” He hit Play, and a view of an alley appeared, a chain-link fence blocking the far end. Minutes passed and nothing moved, nothing changed. “Again, nothing.”
    Jane gave Frost a sympathetic pat on the back and finally stood up. “Happy viewing. Call me if you spot anything.”
    “Yeah, yeah.”
    She was almost out the door when she heard Frost suck in a sharp breath. She turned. “What?”
    “It went by so fast!”
    “I didn’t see a thing,” said Tam.
    Jane moved back to the monitor and watched as Frost rewound and hit Play again. The same static image reappeared. The same dimly lit alley with the chain-link fence at the far end.
    “There.”
said Frost.
    The figure seemed to materialize out of darkness, its back to the camera as it moved in a blur down the alley. In one swift leap it launched itself up and over the fence and landed in a crouch on the other side. There it paused and straightened to its full height.
    Frost froze the image.
    It was garbed head-to-toe in black. They could not see a face, but the figure clearly stood out in silhouette, revealing a slender waist and the unmistakable curve of hips.
    “It’s a woman,” said Frost.
    B ELLA L I STRODE into Boston PD’s Schroeder Plaza wearing low-slung blue jeans, tall boots, and a black leather jacket. Before stepping through the metal detector, she made a grand show of peeling off that jacket, a strip tease for all the cops who were watching, and revealed a skintight T-shirt that hugged every curve of her braless breasts. She returned their stares with a lethal smile and swaggered through security to meet Jane, who was waiting for her on the other side.
    “Didn’t know I’d have to pass inspection,” Bella said.
    “Everyone does. Even the mayor.” Jane waved her toward the elevator. “We’re going upstairs.”
    As they rode up to the second floor, Bella stood with hip cocked, leather jacket slung over her shoulder. Her short hair stood up even spikier than usual, like the fur of a cat that’s been riled and is ready to fight. And this is one gal who could probably take me down, Jane thought. Bella might not be big, but she was all muscle and as lithe as a panther. Staring at her, Jane wondered: Are you the creature I saw perched on the rooftop? Are you the one who saved my life in that alley?
    On the second floor, Jane escorted Bella to the interview room.“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll let Detective Frost know you’re here,” she said, and left the young woman alone.
    In the adjoining room, Jane joined Frost, who was watching Bella through the one-way mirror. Their guest appeared not in the least nervous, and was leaning back in her chair, boots propped up on the table. Head tipped back, Bella stared at the ceiling, looking bored.
    “Did she say anything interesting on the way up?” asked Frost.
    Jane shook her head. “Never even asked why we called her in.”
    “That’s interesting. You think she knows that we know?”
    “I think she’s trying to show us that she doesn’t give a damn.”
    In the next room, Bella looked straight at the mirror and arched one eyebrow, her expression unmistakable:
Can we get this over with?
    “Okay.” Jane sighed. “Let’s go rattle her cage.”
    As Jane and Frost walked into the interview room, Bella dropped her feet from