The Sinner: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

implied.
    “You weren’t afraid? All by yourself?”
    “Why?”
    Why indeed? thought Maura. This little girl was fearless, intimidated by neither the dark nor the police. She sat with her gaze perfectly steady on her questioner, as though she, not Rizzoli, was directing this conversation. But self-possessed as she appeared, she was very much a child, and a ragged one at that. Her hair was a tangle of curls, powdery with attic dust. Her pink sweatshirt looked like a well-worn hand-me-down. It was a few sizes too large, and the rolled-back cuffs were soiled. Only her shoes looked new—brand new Keds with Velcro flaps. Her feet did not quite touch the floor, and she kept swinging them back and forth in a monotonous rhythm. A metronome of excess energy.
    Grace said, “Believe me, I didn’t know she was up there. I can’t go chasing after her all the time. I have to get the meals on the table, and then I have to clean up afterwards. We don’t get out of here until nine o’clock, and I can’t get her into bed until ten.” Grace looked at Noni. “That’s part of the problem, you know. She’s tired and cranky all the time, so everything turns into an argument. Last year, she gave me an ulcer. Made me so stressed out my stomach started digesting itself. I could be doubled over in pain, and she wouldn’t care. She still puts up a fuss about going to bed, or taking a bath. No concern for anyone else. But that’s the way children are, completely selfish. The whole world revolves around
her
.”
    While Grace vented her frustration, Maura was watching Noni’s reaction. The girl had gone perfectly still, her legs no longer swinging, her jaw clamped tight in an obstinate square. But the dark eyes briefly glistened with tears. Just as quickly, the tears were gone, erased by the furtive swipe of a dirty cuff. She’s not deaf and dumb, thought Maura. She hears the anger in her mother’s voice. Every day, in a dozen different ways, Grace surely conveys her disgust for this child. And the child understands. No wonder Noni is difficult; no wonder she makes Grace angry. It’s the only emotion she can wrest from her mother, the only proof that any feeling at all exists between them. Just seven years old, and already she knows she’s lost her futile bid for love. She knows more than adults realize, and what she sees and hears is surely painful.
    Rizzoli had been crouched too long at the child’s level. Now she rose and stretched her legs. It was already eight o’clock, they had skipped supper, and Rizzoli’s energy appeared to be wearing thin. She stood eyeing the girl, both of them with equally disheveled hair, equally determined faces.
    Rizzoli said, with weary patience, “So, Noni, have you been going up to the attic a lot?”
    The dusty mop of curls bounced in a nod.
    “What do you do up there?”
    “Nothing.”
    “You just said you play with your dolls.”
    “I already told you
that
.”
    “What else do you do?”
    The girl shrugged.
    Rizzoli pressed harder.”Come on, it’s gotta be boring up there. I can’t imagine why you’d want to hang around in that attic unless there’s something interesting to see.”
    Noni’s gaze dropped to her lap.
    “You ever peek at the sisters? You know, just sort of watch what they’re doing?”
    “I see them all the time.”
    “How about when they’re in their rooms?”
    “I’m not allowed to go up there.”
    “But do you ever watch them when they’re not looking? When they don’t know it?”
    Noni’s head was still bent. She said, into her sweatshirt, “That’s
peeping
.”
    “And you know better than to do that,” said Grace. “It’s an invasion of privacy. I’ve told you that.”
    Noni crossed her arms and declared in a stentorian voice: “ ’vasion of
privacy
.” It sounded like a mocking of her mother. Grace reddened and moved toward her daughter, as though to strike her.
    Rizzoli halted Grace with a swift gesture. “Would you and Mother Mary Clement mind stepping out of the room for a minute, Mrs. Otis?”
    “You said I could stay,” said Grace.
    “I think Noni might need a little extra police persuasion. It will work better if you’re not in the room.”
    “Oh.” Grace nodded, an unpleasant gleam in her eye. “Of course.” Rizzoli had read this woman correctly; Grace was not interested in protecting her daughter; rather, she wanted to see Noni disciplined. Cowed. Grace shot Noni a
now you’re in for it
look, and walked out of the