Maura sighed. “I came straight here.”
“You didn’t notice anyone following you?”
“Why would I bother to look? I have too many things on my mind.”
They regarded each other for a moment, neither one speaking, the tension about her visit to O’Donnell still hanging between them.
“Did you know your security camera’s broken?” Rizzoli said. “The one here in your parking lot.”
Maura gave a laugh. A shrug. “Do you know how much our budget’s been cut this year? That camera’s been broken for months. You can almost see the wires hanging out.”
“My point is, that camera would have scared off most vandals.”
“Unfortunately, it didn’t.”
“Who else knows that camera’s broken? Everyone who works in this office, right?”
Maura felt a stab of dismay. “I don’t like what you’re implying. A lot of people have noticed it’s broken. Cops. Mortuary drivers. Anyone who’s ever delivered a body here. You just have to look up and see it.”
“You said there were two cars parked here when you arrived. Dr. Costas’s and Yoshima’s.”
“Yes.”
“And when you came out of the building, around eight, those cars were gone.”
“They left before I did.”
“Do you get along with both of them?”
Maura gave a disbelieving laugh. “You’re kidding, right? Because these are ridiculous questions.”
“I’m not crazy about having to ask them.”
“Then why are you? You know Dr. Costas, Jane. And you know Yoshima. You can’t treat them like suspects.”
“They both walked through that parking lot. Right past your car. Dr. Costas left first, around six forty-five. Yoshima left sometime after that, maybe around seven fifteen.”
“You’ve spoken to them?”
“They both told me they didn’t see any scratches on your car. You’d think they would have seen it. Certainly Yoshima would, since he was parked right beside you.”
“We’ve worked together for almost two years. I know him. So do you.”
“We think we do.”
Don’t, Jane, she thought. Don’t make me afraid of my own colleagues.
“He’s worked in this building eighteen years,” said Rizzoli.
“Abe’s been here nearly as long. Louise has, too.”
“Did you know Yoshima lives alone?”
“So do I.”
“He’s forty-eight years old, never married, and he lives by himself. Comes to work every day, and here you are, up close and personal. Both of you working with corpses. Dealing with some pretty grim stuff. That’s got to forge a bond between you two. All the terrible things that only you and he have seen.”
Maura thought of the hours that she and Yoshima had shared in that room with its steel tables and sharp instruments. He always seemed to anticipate her needs even before she did. Yes, there was a bond, of course there was, because they were a team. But after they stripped off the gowns and peeled off the shoe covers, they each walked out the door into their separate lives. They did not socialize; they’d never even shared a drink together after work. We’re alike that way, she thought. Two solitary people who only meet over corpses.
“Look,” said Rizzoli with a sigh, “I like Yoshima. I hate even bringing up the possibility. But it’s something I have to consider, or I wouldn’t be doing my job.”
“Which is what? To make me paranoid? I’m scared enough as it is, Jane. Don’t make me afraid of the very people I need to trust.” Maura swept up the papers from her desk. “Have you finished with my car? I’d like to go home.”
“Yeah, we’re done with it. But I’m not so sure you should go home.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“There are other options. You could go to a hotel. You can sleep on my couch. I just spoke to Detective Ballard, and he mentioned he has a spare room.”
“Why are you talking to Ballard?”
“He’s been checking in with me every day about the case. Called about an hour ago, and I told him what happened to your car. He came right over to look at it.”
“He’s in the parking lot now?”
“Got here a little while ago. He’s concerned, Doc. I am, too.” Rizzoli paused. “So what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know…”
“Well you’ve got a few minutes to think about it.” Rizzoli heaved herself to her feet. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out.”
Now here was an absurd moment, thought Maura as they headed down the hallway together. I’m being protected by a woman who can barely push herself out of a chair. But Rizzoli made it clear that she was the one in charge, the one who’d assumed the role of guardian. She was the one who opened the door and stepped out first.
Maura followed her across the parking lot, to the Lexus, where Frost and Ballard were standing.
“Are you all right, Maura?” Ballard asked. The glow of the streetlamp cast his eyes in shadow; she looked up into a face whose expression she could not read.
“I’m fine.”
“This could have turned out a lot worse.” He looked at Rizzoli. “You told her what we think?”
“I told her she might not want to go home tonight.”
Maura looked at her car. The three scratches stood out, even uglier than she’d remembered, like wounds left by a predator’s claws. Anna’s killer is talking to me. And I never knew how close he came.
Frost said, “CSU noticed a little ding on the driver’s door.”
“That’s old. Someone bumped me in a parking lot a few months ago.”
“Okay, so it’s just the scratches. They pulled off a few fingerprints. They’ll need yours, Doc. As soon as you can get a set over to the lab.”
“Of course.” She thought of all the fingers they’d inked in the morgue, all the cold flesh that was routinely pressed to cards. They’ll be getting mine ahead of the game. While I’m still alive. She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling chilled despite the warm night. She thought of walking into her empty house, locking herself into her bedroom. Even with all those barricades, it was still just a house, not a fortress. A house with windows that were easily shattered, screens that could be cut with only a knife.
“You said it was Charles Cassell who scratched Anna’s car.” Maura looked at Rizzoli. “Cassell wouldn’t have done this. Not to mine.”
“No, he’d have no reason to. This is clearly meant as a warning to you.” Rizzoli said, quietly: “Maybe Anna was a mistake.”
I’m the one. I’m the one who should have died.
“Where do you want to go, Doc?” asked Rizzoli.
“I don’t know,” Maura said. “I don’t know what to do…”
“Well, may I suggest you not stand around out here?” said Ballard. “Where everyone can watch you?”
Maura glanced at the sidewalk. Saw the silhouettes of people who’d been drawn by the flashing lights of the police cruiser. People whose faces she could not see because they were in shadow, while she stood here, lit like the star performer beneath the streetlamp’s glare.
Ballard said, “I have a spare bedroom.”
She did not look at him, but kept her gaze focused, instead, on those faceless shadows. Thinking: This is happening too fast. Too many decisions are being made on the spur of the moment. Choices I may come to regret.
“Doc?” said Rizzoli. “What do you think?”
At last Maura looked at Ballard. And she felt, once again, that disturbing tug of attraction. “I don’t know where else to go,” she said.
He drove right behind her, so close that his headlights glared in her rearview mirror, as though he was afraid she might pull away, might try to lose him in the dense tangle of traffic. He stayed close even as they headed into the quieter suburb of Newton, even as she circled his block twice, the way he had instructed, to confirm no car was following them. When at last she came to a stop in front of his house, he was almost immediately standing at her window, tapping on the glass.
“Pull into my garage,” he said.
“I’ll be taking your space.”