Vanish: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

and his associate showed up in that hospital room for only one reason.” Gabriel looked at Conway. “You’re on the Senate Intelligence Committee. You have sources.”
    “But I’m totally out of the loop on this one,” said Conway, shaking his head. “If one of our agencies ordered a hit on that woman, that’s a serious scandal. An assassination on US soil?”
    “But this hit went very wrong,” said Gabriel. “Before they could finish it, Dr. Isles walked in on them. Not only did the target survive the hit, she took hostages. Now this is a huge media event. A black ops screwup that’s going to end up on the front pages. The facts are going to come out anyway, so if you know, you might as well tell me. Who is this woman, and why does our country want her dead?”
    “This is pure speculation,” said Silver. “You’re following a pretty thin thread, Agent Dean. Extrapolating from a tattoo and a bullet to a government-sponsored assassination.”
    “These people have my wife,” Gabriel said quietly. “I’m willing to follow any thread, however thin. I need to know how to make this end without someone getting killed. That’s all I want. That no one gets killed.”
    Silver nodded. “It’s what we all want.”

FIFTEEN
    Darkness had fallen by the time Maura turned onto the quiet Brookline street where she lived. She drove past familiar houses, familiar gardens. Saw the same redheaded boy heaving his basketball at the hoop over his garage. Missing it, as usual. Everything looked as it had yesterday, just another hot summer’s evening in suburbia. But tonight is different, she thought. Tonight, she wouldn’t be lingering over her glass of chilled wine or her latest issue of
Vanity Fair.
How could she enjoy her usual pleasures, knowing what Jane was enduring at that moment?
    If Jane was still alive.
    Maura pulled into her garage and walked into the house, grateful for the cool breath of central air-conditioning. She would not be staying long; she’d come home only to grab a quick supper, to shower, and change clothes. For even this brief respite, she felt guilty. I’ll bring back sandwiches for Gabriel, she thought. She doubted the thought of food had even crossed his mind.
    She had just stepped out of the shower when she heard her doorbell ring. Pulling on a robe, she hurried to answer it.
    Peter Lukas stood on her front porch. Only that morning, they had spoken, but judging by his wrinkled shirt and the tense lines around his eyes, the hours since then had taken a toll. “I’m sorry to just show up here,” he said. “I did try to call you a few minutes ago.”
    “I didn’t hear the phone. I was in the shower.”
    He gaze dropped, just for an instant, to her bathrobe. Then he looked past her, focusing on a spot over her shoulder, as though he was uncomfortable staring directly at an undressed woman. “Can we talk? I need your advice.”
    “Advice?”
    “About what the police are asking me to do.”
    “You’ve spoken to Captain Hayder?”
    “And that FBI guy. Agent Barsanti.”
    “Then you already know what the hostage takers want.”
    Lukas nodded. “That’s why I’m here. I need to know what you think about this whole crazy setup.”
    “You’re actually considering it?”
    “I need to know what you’d do, Dr. Isles. I trust your judgment.” His gaze finally met hers and she felt the heat rise in her face, found herself tugging her robe tighter.
    “Come inside,” she finally said. “Let me get dressed, and we’ll talk about it.”
    As he waited in the living room, she hunted in her closet for clean slacks and a blouse. Pausing before the mirror, she winced at the reflection of smeared eye makeup, tangled hair. He’s only a reporter, she thought. This isn’t a date. It doesn’t matter what the hell you look like.
    When she finally walked back into the living room, she found him standing at the window, gazing out at the dark street. “It’s gone national, you know,” he said, turning to look at her. “Right this minute, they’re watching it in LA.”
    “Is that why you’re thinking of doing this? A chance at fame? The fact you could get your name in the headlines?”
    “Oh yeah, I can see it now: ‘Reporter gets bullet in brain.’ I’m really crazy about
that
headline.”
    “So you do realize this is not a particularly wise move.”
    “I haven’t decided.”
    “If you want my advice—”
    “I want more than just your advice. I need information.”
    “What