The Sinner: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

off.” Rizzoli swallowed. “And the face . . .”
    “It’s all part of the same birth defect. The brain develops from a sheath of cells called the neural tube. If the top of the tube fails to close the way it’s supposed to, the baby will be born missing a major part of the brain, the skull, even the scalp. That’s what
anencephalic
means. Without a head.”
    “You ever seen one like that before?”
    “Only in a medical museum. But it’s not that rare. It happens in about one in a thousand births.”
    “Why?”
    “No one knows.”
    “Then it could—it could happen to any baby?”
    “That’s right.” Maura tied off the last stitch and snipped the excess suture. “This child was born gravely malformed. If it wasn’t already dead at birth, then it almost certainly died soon after.”
    “So Camille didn’t drown it.”
    “I’ll check the kidneys for diatoms. That would tell us if the child died by drowning. But I don’t think this is a case of infanticide. I think the baby died a natural death.”
    “Thank god,” Rizzoli said softly. “If that thing had lived . . .”
    “It wouldn’t have.” Maura finished taping a bandage to the wound and stripped off her gloves. “All done, Detective. The stitches need to come out in five days. You can drop by here and I’ll snip them for you. But I still think you need to see a doctor.”
    “You
are
a doctor.”
    “I work on dead people. Remember?”
    “You just sewed me up fine.”
    “I’m not talking about putting in a few stitches. I’m concerned about what else is going on.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Maura leaned forward, her gaze tight on Rizzoli’s. “You fainted, remember?”
    “I didn’t eat lunch. And that thing—the baby—it shocked me.”
    “It shocked us all. But you’re the one who keeled over.”
    “I’ve just never seen anything like it.”
    “Jane, you’ve seen all sorts of terrible things in that autopsy room. We’ve seen them together, smelled them together. You’ve always had a strong stomach. The boy cops, I have to keep an eye on them, because they’ll drop like rocks. But you’ve always managed to hang in there. Until now.”
    “Maybe I’m not as tough as you thought.”
    “No, I think there’s something wrong. Isn’t there?”
    “Like what?”
    “You got light-headed a few days ago.”
    Rizzoli shrugged. “I’ve gotta start eating breakfast.”
    “Why haven’t you? Is it nausea? And I’ve noticed you’re in the bathroom practically every ten minutes. You went in there twice, just while I was setting up the lab.”
    “What the hell is this, anyway? An interrogation?”
    “You need to see a doctor. You need a complete physical and a blood count to rule out anemia, at the very least.”
    “I just need to get some fresh air.” Rizzoli sat up, then quickly dropped her head in her hands. “God, this is some friggin’ headache.”
    “You whacked your head pretty hard on the floor.”
    “It’s been whacked before.”
    “But I’m more concerned about why you fainted. Why you’ve been so tired.”
    Rizzoli lifted her head and looked at her. In that instant, Maura had her answer. She had already suspected it, and now she saw it confirmed in the other woman’s eyes.
    “My life is
so
fucked up,” Rizzoli whispered.
    The tears startled Maura. She had never seen Rizzoli cry, had thought this woman was too strong, too stubborn, to ever break down, yet tears were now trickling down her cheeks, and Maura was so taken aback she could only watch in silence.
    The knock on the door startled them both.
    Frost stuck his head into the office. “How’re we doing in here . . .” His voice trailed off when he saw his partner’s damp face. “Hey. Hey, are you okay?”
    Rizzoli gave an angry swipe at her tears. “I’m fine.”
    “What’s going on?”
    “I said I’m
fine
!”
    “Detective Frost,” said Maura, “We need time alone. Could you give us some privacy, please?”
    Frost flushed. “Sorry,” he murmured, and withdrew, softly closing the door.
    “I shouldn’t have yelled at him,” said Rizzoli. “But sometimes, he’s so goddamn dense.”
    “He’s just concerned about you.”
    “Yeah, I know. I know. At least he’s one of the good guys.” Her voice broke. Fighting not to cry, she balled her hands into fists, but the tears came anyway, and then the sobs. Choked, embarrassed sobs that she could not hold back. It disturbed Maura to witness the disintegration of a woman whose