The Sinner: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

child, and he couldn’t believe she left him.”
    “What about Camille’s birth mother, Mrs. Maginnes? You told me on the phone that she was dead.”
    “Camille was only eight years old when it happened.”
    “When what happened?”
    “Well, they called it an accidental overdose, but are any of those really accidents? Randall had already been widowed several years when I met him. I guess you could call us a reconstituted family. I have two sons from my first marriage, and Randall had Camille.”
    “How long have you and Randall been married?”
    “Almost seven years now.” She looked at her husband. Added, with a note of resignation, “For better or for worse.”
    “Were you and your stepdaughter close? Did she share much with you?”
    “Camille?” Lauren shook her head. “I have to be perfectly honest. We never really bonded, if that’s what you’re asking. She was already thirteen when I met Randall, and you know what kids are like at that age. They want nothing to do with adults. It’s not that she treated me like her evil stepmother or anything. We just didn’t, well,
connect,
I guess. I made the effort, I really did, but she was always so . . .” Lauren suddenly stopped, as though afraid she’d say something she shouldn’t.
    “What’s the word you’re looking for, Mrs. Maginnes?”
    Lauren thought about it. “Strange,” she said finally. “Camille was strange.” She looked at her husband, who was staring at her, and quickly said, “I’m sorry, Randall. I know it’s awful for me to say that, but these are policemen. They want to hear the truth.”
    “What do you mean by strange?” asked Frost.
    “You know how, when you walk into a party, you sometimes spot someone who’s standing all alone?” said Lauren. “Someone who won’t look you in the eye? She was always off by herself in a corner, or hiding out in her room. It never occurred to us what she was doing up there. Praying! Down on her knees and praying. Reading those books she got from one of the Catholic girls at school. We’re not even Catholic, we’re Presbyterians. But there she was, locked in her room. Whipping herself with a belt, can you believe it? To make herself pure. Where do they get such ideas?”
    Outside, the wind sprayed sea salt on the windows. Randall Maginnes gave a soft moan. Rizzoli noticed that he was looking straight at her. She gazed back at him, wondering how much of this conversation he understood. Full comprehension would be the greater curse, she thought. To know everything that was going on around you. To know your daughter, your only natural child, is dead. To know your wife feels burdened by your care. To know that the terrible odor you’re forced to inhale is your own.
    She heard footsteps and turned to see two young men walk into the room. Clearly they were Lauren’s sons, with the same reddish-brown hair, the same handsome features stamped on their faces. Though both were dressed casually in jeans and crew-neck sweaters, they managed, like their mother, to project stylish confidence. Thoroughbreds, thought Rizzoli.
    She reached out to shake their hands. Did it firmly, establishing her authority. “I’m Detective Rizzoli,” she said.
    “My sons, Blake and Justin,” said Lauren. “They’re home from college for the holidays.”
    My sons, she had said. Not our sons. In this family, reconstitution had not completely blended the lines of love. Even after seven years of marriage, her sons were still hers, and Randall’s daughter was his.
    “These are our two budding lawyers in the family,” said Lauren. “With all the arguments they have around the dinner table, they’ve had plenty of practice for the courtroom.”
    “Discussions, Mom,” said Blake. “We call them discussions.”
    “Sometimes I can’t tell the difference.”
    The boys sat down with the easy grace of athletes, and looked at Rizzoli, as though expecting the entertainment to begin.
    “In college, huh?” she said. “Where do you boys go?”
    “I’m at Amherst,” said Blake. “And Justin’s at Bowdoin.”
    Both within easy driving distance to Boston.
    “And you want to be lawyers? Both of you?”
    “I’ve already got my application in to law schools,” said Blake. “I’m thinking of entertainment law. Maybe work out in California. I’m getting a minor in film studies, so I think I’m laying a pretty good foundation for it.”
    “Yeah, and he wants to hang out with cute actresses, too,” said