Vanish: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

dead.”
    She stared at him. “You’re starting to scare me. You’re making me wonder . . .”
    A sudden knock on the door made her jump. Heart pounding, she turned to see Angela Rizzoli poke her head into the room.
    “Janie, you’re up? Can we come in and visit?”
    “Oh.” Jane gave a startled laugh. “Hi, Mom.”
    “She’s beautiful, just beautiful! We saw her through the window.” Angela bustled into the room, carrying her old Revere Ware stockpot, and in wafted what Jane would always consider the world’s best perfume: the aroma of her mother’s kitchen. Trailing behind his wife, Frank Rizzoli came in holding a bouquet so huge that he looked like an explorer peering through dense jungle.
    “So how’s my girl?” said Frank.
    “I’m feeling great, Dad.”
    “The kid’s bawling up a storm in the nursery. Got a set of lungs on her.”
    “Mikey’s coming by to see you after work,” said Angela. “Look, I brought lamb spaghetti. You don’t have to tell me what hospital food’s like. What’d they bring you for breakfast, anyway?” She went to the tray and lifted the cover. “My god, look at these eggs, Frank! Like rubber! Do they
try
to make the food this bad?”
    “Nothing wrong with a baby girl, no sir,” Frank said. “Daughters are great, hey Gabe? You gotta watch ’em, though. When she turns sixteen, you be sure to keep those boys away.”
    “Sixteen?” Jane snorted. “Dad, by then the horse has left the barn.”
    “What’re you saying? Don’t tell me that when
you
were sixteen—”
    “—so what’re you going to call her, hon? I can’t believe you haven’t chosen a name yet.”
    “We’re still thinking about it.”
    “What’s to think about? Name her after your grandma Regina.”
    “She’s got another grandma, you know,” said Frank.
    “Who’d call a girl Ignatia?”
    “It was good enough for my mom.”
    Jane looked across the room at Gabriel, and saw that his gaze had strayed back to the window.
He’s still thinking about Joseph Roke. Still wondering about his death.
    There was a knock on the door, and yet another familiar head popped into the room. “Hey, Rizzoli!” said Vince Korsak. “You skinny again?” He stepped in, clutching the ribbons of three Mylar balloons bobbing overhead. “How’re you doing, Mrs. Rizzoli, Mr. Rizzoli? Congrats on being new grandparents!”
    “Detective Korsak,” said Angela. “Are you hungry? I brought Jane’s favorite spaghetti. And we have paper plates here.”
    “Well, I’m sort of on a diet, ma’am.”
    “It’s lamb spaghetti.”
    “Ooh. You’re a naughty woman, tempting a man off his diet.” Korsak wagged one fat finger at her and Angela gave a high, girlish laugh.
    My god, thought Jane. Korsak is flirting with my mom. I don’t think I want to watch this.
    “Frank, can you take out those paper plates? They’re in the sack.”
    “It’s only ten A.M. It’s not even lunchtime.”
    “Detective Korsak is hungry.”
    “He just told you he’s on a diet. Why don’t you listen to him?”
    There was yet another knock on the door. This time a nurse walked in, wheeling a bassinet. Rolling it over to Jane’s bed, she announced: “Time to visit with Mommy,” and lifted out the swaddled newborn. She placed it in Jane’s arms.
    Angela swooped in like a bird of prey. “Ooh, look at her, Frank! Oh god, she’s so precious! Look at that little face!”
    “How can I get a look? You’re all over her.”
    “She’s got my mother’s mouth—”
    “Well,
that’s
something to brag about.”
    “Janie, you should try feeding her now. You need to get practice before your milk comes in.”
    Jane looked around the room at the audience crowded around her bed. “Ma, I’m not really comfortable with—” She paused, glancing down at the baby as it suddenly gave a howl.
Now what do I do?
    “Maybe she’s got gas,” said Frank. “Babies always get gas.”
    “Or she’s hungry,” Korsak suggested. He would.
    The baby only cried harder.
    “Let me take her,” said Angela.
    “Who’s the mommy here?” Frank said. “She needs the practice.”
    “You don’t want a baby to keep crying.”
    “Maybe if you put your finger in her mouth,” said Frank. “That’s what we used to do with you, Janie. Like this—”
    “Wait!” said Angela. “Did you wash your hands, Frank?”
    The sound of Gabriel’s ringing cell phone was almost lost in the bedlam. Jane glanced at her husband as he answered it and saw him