The Sinner: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

nice to see you, too,” said Detective Crowe. “I guess this must be where all the action is.”
    “I could’ve blown off your fucking head,” said Rizzoli. “You should have warned us you were coming in . . .” Her voice trailed off. She went very still as another silhouette appeared. A tall man moved with catlike grace past Crowe, and into the circle of Rizzoli’s flashlight beam. The light suddenly wavered, her hand shaking too much to hold it steady.
    “Hello Jane,” said Gabriel Dean.
    The darkness only seemed to magnify the long silence.
    When Rizzoli finally managed to respond, her tone was strangely flat. Businesslike.
    “I didn’t know you were in town.”
    “I just flew in this morning.”
    She reholstered her weapon. Drew herself up straight. “What are you doing here?”
    “The same thing you are. Detective Crowe is walking me through the scene.”
    “The FBI’s coming in on this? Why?”
    Dean glanced around their shadowy surroundings. “We should talk about this somewhere else. Somewhere warm, at least. I’d like to hear how your case intersects with this one, Jane.”
    “If we talk, the info has to go both ways,” said Rizzoli.
    “Of course.”
    “All cards on the table.”
    Dean nodded. “You’ll know everything that I know.”
    “Look,” said Crowe, “Let me finish walking Agent Dean through here. We’ll meet you back at the conference room. At least we’ll have enough light to see each other. And we won’t be standing around, freezing our asses off.”
    Rizzoli nodded. “The conference room, two o’clock. We’ll see you there.”

F OURTEEN
     
    R IZZOLI FUMBLED for her car keys and dropped them in the snow. Cursed as she squatted down to retrieve them.
    “Are you okay?” asked Maura.
    “He took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting . . .” She stood up and huffed out a cloud of steam. “Jesus, what is he doing here? What the
hell
is he doing here?”
    “His job, I imagine.”
    “I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready to work with him again.”
    “You may not have a choice.”
    “I know. And that’s what pisses me off, that I don’t have a choice.” Rizzoli unlocked her car and they both slid inside, onto icy seats.
    “Are you going to tell him?”asked Maura.
    Grimly Rizzoli started the engine. “No.”
    “He’d want to know.”
    “I’m not sure he would. I’m not sure any man would.”
    “So you’re just writing off the happy ending? Not even giving it a chance?”
    Rizzoli sighed. “Maybe, if we were different people, there would be a chance.”
    “The affair didn’t happen to other people. It happened to you two.”
    “Right. What a surprise, huh?”
    “Why?”
    For a moment Rizzoli was silent, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. “You know what my two brothers used to call me when we were growing up?” she said softly. “The frog. They said no prince would ever want to kiss a frog. Much less marry me.”
    “Brothers can be cruel.”
    “But sometimes they just tell you the brutal truth.”
    “When Agent Dean looks at you, I don’t think he sees a frog.”
    Rizzoli shrugged. “Who knows what he sees?”
    “An intelligent woman?”
    “Yeah, that’s really sexy.”
    “To some men, it is.”
    “Or so they claim. But you know what? I have a hard time believing it. Given the choice, men always go for the tits and ass.”
    Rizzoli focused with angry intensity on the road as they drove down streets where dirty snow crusted sidewalks and the windows of parked cars were frosted white.
    “He saw
something
in you, Jane. Enough to want you.”
    “It was the case we were working. The excitement of the hunt. It makes you feel alive, you know? When you start to close in, the adrenaline gets pumping and everything looks different, feels different. You’re working with someone around the clock, working so close to him that you know his scent. You know how he drinks his coffee and how he ties his tie. Then the case turns hairy, you get angry together and scared together. And pretty soon it starts to feel like love. But it isn’t. It’s just two people, working in a situation so intense that they can’t tell the difference between lust and the thrill of the chase. That’s what I think happened. We met over a few dead bodies. And after a while, even I started to look good to him.”
    “Is that all he was to you? Someone who started to look good?”
    “Well, shit. He
does
look good.”
    “Because if you don’t love him—if you