The Sinner: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

might be more convenient for you. You can make up the bed in the guest room. I’ll probably be gone for a few hours.”
    His silence made her flush. Still not looking at him, she buttoned her coat. Suddenly anxious to escape, she opened the front door.
    And heard him say, “I’ll wait up for you.”
             
     
    Blue lights flashed through the gauze of falling snow. She pulled up right behind one of the cruisers and a patrolman approached, his face half hidden behind his raised collar, like a turtle retracted into its shell. She rolled down her window and squinted against the glare of his flashlight. Snow blew in, skittering across her dashboard.
    “Dr. Isles, M.E.’s office,” she said.
    “Okay, you can park right where you are, ma’am.”
    “Where’s the body?”
    “Inside.” He waved his flashlight toward a building across the street. “Front door’s padlocked—gotta go in the alley entrance. Electricity’s off, so watch your step. You’ll need your flashlight. All kinds of boxes and shit piled up in that alley.”
    She stepped out of the car, into a curtain of lacy white. Tonight she was fully prepared for the weather, and grateful that her feet were warm and dry inside Thinsulate boots. At least six inches of new snow layered the road, but the flakes were soft and feathery and offered not even a whisper of resistance as her boots cut a trough through the drifts.
    At the alley entrance, she turned on the flashlight, and saw a strand of sagging police tape, the yellow almost obscured by a coating of white. She stepped over it and dislodged a shower of flakes. The alley was obstructed by several amorphous piles obscured by snow. Her boot connected with something solid, and she heard the clatter of bottles. The alley had been used as a trash dump, and she wondered what distasteful items were hidden beneath this white blanket.
    She knocked on the door and called out: “Hello? Medical Examiner.”
    The door swung open, and a flashlight glared in her eyes. She could not see the man holding it, but she recognized Detective Darren Crowe’s voice.
    “Hey, Doc. Welcome to roach city.”
    “Would you mind shining that light somewhere else?”
    The flashlight beam dropped from her face and she saw his silhouette, broad-shouldered and vaguely threatening. He was one of the younger detectives in the Homicide Unit, and every time she worked a case with him, she felt she was walking onto the set of a TV show, and Crowe was the series star, a movie-star cop with blow-dried hair and the attitude to match, cocky and self-assured. The only thing that men like Crowe respected in a woman was icy professionalism, and that’s what she showed him. While the male M.E.s might banter with Crowe, she could not; the barriers had to be maintained, the lines drawn, or he would find a way to chip at her authority.
    She pulled on gloves and shoe-covers and stepped into the building. Shining her flashlight around the room, she saw metallic surfaces reflect back at her. A huge refrigerator and metal countertops. A commercial stove top and ovens.
    “This used to be Mama Cortina’s Italian restaurant,” said Crowe. “Until Mama went out of business and filed for bankruptcy. Building got condemned two years ago, and the entrances were both padlocked. Alley door looks like it was broken open some time ago. All this kitchen equipment’s up for auction, but I don’t know who’d want it. It’s filthy.” He shone his flashlight at the gas burners, where years of accumulated grease had thickened to a black crust. Roaches scurried away from the light. “The place is crawling with ’em. All this yummy grease to feed on.”
    “Who found the body?”
    “One of our boys from the narcotics division. They had a drug bust going down, about a block from here. The suspect bolted, and they thought he came down this alley. They noticed the door had been pried open. Came inside looking for their perp, and got quite a surprise.” He pointed his flashlight at the floor. “Some scrape marks across the dust here. Like the perp dragged the victim across this room.” He waved the light toward the other end of the kitchen. “Body’s that way. We gotta go through the dining room.”
    “You’ve already videotaped in here?”
    “Yeah. Had to lug in two battery packs to get enough light. Already ran’em both down. So it’s gonna be a little dim in there.”
    She followed him toward the kitchen doorway, holding her arms close