The Sinner: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

“Faith is stronger than evidence.”
    Faith in what? Maura wondered. A young woman’s virtue? Was there any house of cards more rickety than the belief in human chastity?
    They fell silent as the body bag was carried away. There was no need to bring a stretcher through the snow; the attendant had scooped the bag into his arms as tenderly as though he was lifting his own child, and now he walked with grim purpose across the windy field, toward the abbey.
    Maura’s cell phone rang, violating the mournful silence. She flipped it open and answered quietly: “Dr. Isles.”
    “I’m sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye this morning.”
    She felt her face flush and her heartbeat go into double time. “Victor.”
    “I had to get to my meeting in Cambridge. I didn’t want to wake you. I hope you didn’t think I was running out on you.”
    “Actually, I did.”
    “Can we meet later, for dinner?”
    She paused, suddenly aware that Rizzoli was watching her. Aware, too, of her own physical reaction to Victor’s voice. The quickened pulse, the happy anticipation. Already he’s worked his way back into my life, she thought. Already, I’m thinking of the possibilities.
    She turned from Rizzoli’s gaze, and her voice dropped to a murmur. “I don’t know when I’ll be free. There’s so much going on right now.”
    “You can tell me all about your day over dinner.”
    “It’s already turning into a doozy.”
    “You have to eat sometime, Maura. Can I take you out? Your favorite restaurant?”
    She answered too quickly, too eagerly. “No, I’ll meet you at my house. I’ll try to be home by seven.”
    “I don’t expect you to cook for me.”
    “Then I’ll let you do the cooking.”
    He laughed. “Brave woman.”
    “If I’m late, you can get in through the side door to the garage. You probably know where the key is.”
    “Don’t tell me you’re still hiding it in that old shoe.”
    “No one’s found it yet. I’ll see you tonight.”
    She hung up, and turned to find that now both Rizzoli and Frost were watching her.
    “Hot date?” asked Rizzoli.
    “At my age, I’m lucky to have any date,” she said, and slipped the phone in her purse. “I’ll see you both in the morgue.”
    As she tramped back across the field, following the trail of broken snow, she felt their gazes on her back. It was a relief to finally push through the rear gate and retreat behind abbey walls. But only a few steps into the courtyard, she heard her name called.
    She turned to see Father Brophy emerge from a doorway. He walked toward her, a solemn figure in black. Against the gray and dreary sky, his eyes were a startling shade of blue.
    “Mother Mary Clement would like to speak to you,” he said.
    “Detective Rizzoli is the person she should probably talk to.”
    “She’d prefer to speak to you.”
    “Why?”
    “Because you’re not a policeman. At least you seem willing to listen to her concerns. To understand.”
    “Understand what, Father?”
    He paused. The wind flapped their coats and stung their faces.
    “That faith isn’t something to be ridiculed,” he said.
    And that was why Mary Clement did not want to talk to Rizzoli, who could not hide her skepticism, her disdain toward the church. Something as deeply personal as faith should not be subjected to another person’s contempt.
    “This is important to her,” said Father Brophy. “Please.”
    She followed him into the building, down the dim and drafty hallway, to the Abbess’s office. Mary Clement was seated behind her desk. She looked up as they walked in, and the eyes staring through those thick lenses were clearly angry.
    “Sit down, Dr. Isles.”
    Although Holy Innocents Academy was years behind Maura, the sight of an irate nun could still rattle her, and she quietly complied, sinking into the chair like a guilty schoolgirl. Father Brophy stood off to the side, a silent observer of this coming ordeal.
    “We were never told the reason for this search,” said Mary Clement. “You’ve disrupted our lives. Violated our privacy. From the beginning, we’ve cooperated in every way, yet you’ve treated us as though we’re the enemy. You owed us the courtesy of at least telling us what you were searching for.”
    “I do think that Detective Rizzoli is the one you should speak to about this.”
    “But you’re the one who initiated the search.”
    “I only told them what I found on autopsy. That Sister Camille recently gave birth. It was