Vanish: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

snapped the receiver back to her ear.
    “Is anyone there?” the man said, sounding impatient.
    “Hello?” Jane said. “Who is this?”
    “Well, who’s
this
? You’re the one calling.”
    “I’m sorry. I, uh, was given this number, but I didn’t get a name.”
    “Well, there’s no name on this line,” the man said. “It’s a public pay phone.”
    “Where are you?”
    “Faneuil Hall. I was just walking by when I heard it ringing. So if you’re looking for someone in particular, I can’t help you. Bye.” He hung up.
    She stared down again at the ad. At those four words.
    The Die Is Cast.
    Once again, she reached for the phone and dialed.
    “Weekly Confidential,”
a woman answered. “Classifieds.”
    “Hello,” said Jane. “I’d like to place an ad.”
     
    “You should have talked to me first,” said Gabriel. “I can’t believe you just did this on your own.”
    “There was no time to call you,” said Jane. “Their deadline for ads was five P.M. today. I had to make a decision right then and there.”
    “You don’t know who’s going to respond. And now your cell phone number will be in print.”
    “The worst that can happen is I’ll get a few crank calls, that’s all.”
    “Or you get sucked into something a lot more dangerous than we realize.” Gabriel tossed the tabloid down on the kitchen table. “We have to set this up through Moore. Boston PD can screen and monitor the calls. This needs to be thought out first.” He looked at her. “Cancel it, Jane.”
    “I can’t. I told you, it’s too late.”
    “Jesus. I run over to the field office for two hours, and come home to find my wife’s playing
dialing for danger
in our kitchen.”
    “Gabriel, it’s only a two-line ad in the personals. Either someone calls me back, or no one takes the bait.”
    “What if someone does?”
    “Then I’ll let Moore handle it.”
    “You’ll
let
him?” Gabriel gave a laugh. “This is his job, not yours. You’re on maternity leave, remember?”
    As if to emphasize the point, a loud wail suddenly erupted from the nursery. Jane went to retrieve her daughter, and found Regina had, as usual, kicked her way free of the blanket and was flailing her fists, outraged that her demands were not being instantly met. No one’s happy with me today, thought Jane as she lifted Regina from the crib. She directed the baby’s hungry mouth to her breast and winced as little gums clamped down. I’m trying to be a good mom, she thought, I really am, but I’m tired of smelling like sour milk and talcum powder. I’m tired of being tired.
    I used to chase bad guys, you know.
    She carried her baby into the kitchen and stood rocking from leg to leg, trying to keep Regina content, even as her own temper was about to combust.
    “Even if I could, I wouldn’t cancel the ad anyway,” she said defiantly. She watched as Gabriel crossed to the phone. “Who are you calling?”
    “Moore. He takes over from here.”
    “It’s my cell phone. My idea.”
    “It’s not your investigation.”
    “I’m not saying I need to run the show. I gave them a specific time and date. How about we all sit together that night and wait to see who calls? You, me, and Moore. I just want to
be
there when it rings.”
    “You need to back off on this, Jane.”
    “I’m already part of this.”
    “You have Regina. You’re a mother.”
    “But I’m not dead. Are you listening to me? I’m. Not.
Dead.
”
    Her words seemed to hang in the air, her fury still reverberating like a clash of cymbals. Regina suddenly stopped suckling and opened her eyes to stare at her mother in astonishment. The refrigerator gave a rattle and went still.
    “I never said you were,” Gabriel said quietly.
    “But I might as well be, the way you talk.
Oh, you have Regina. You have a more important job now. You need to stay home and make milk and let your brain rot.
I’m a cop, and I need to go back to work. I
miss
it. I miss having my goddamn beeper go off.” She took a breath and sat down at the kitchen table, her breath escaping in a sob of frustration. “I’m a cop,” she whispered.
    He sat down across from her. “I know you are.”
    “I don’t think you do.” She wiped a hand across her face. “You don’t get who I am at all. You think you married someone else. Mrs. Perfect Mommy.”
    “I know exactly who I married.”
    “Reality’s a bitch, ain’t it? And so am I.”
    “Well.” He nodded. “Sometimes.”
    “It’s not like I