“At the time this was recorded, he already had his escape planned,” said Dean. “Remember, he was the one who contacted O’Donnell. He knew she’d talk to him. She couldn’t resist the offer. She was an open microphone, recording everything he said, everything he wanted people to hear. You, in particular. Then he set loose a logical sequence of events, leading right to this moment, with you watching that videotape.”
“Is anyone that brilliant?”
“Isn’t Warren Hoyt?” he asked. It was another arrow launched to pierce her defenses. To drive home the obvious.
“He’s spent a year behind bars. He had a year to nurse his fantasies,” said Dean. “And they were all about you.”
“No, it was Catherine Cordell he wanted. It’s always been Cordell-”
“That’s not what he told O’Donnell.”
“Then he was lying.”
“Why?”
“To get at me. To rattle me-”
“Then you do agree. This tape was meant to end up in your hands. It’s a message directed at you.”
She stared at the blank TV. The ghost of Hoyt’s face still seemed to be staring at her. Everything he’d done was aimed at rattling her universe, destroying her peace of mind. It’s what he’d done to Cordell before he’d moved in for the kill. He wanted his victims terrified, broken down by exhaustion, and he harvested his prey only after they’d been thoroughly ripened by fear. She had no denials left to offer, no defense against the obvious.
Dean sat down and faced her across the table. “I think you should withdraw from this investigation,” he said quietly.
Startled, she stared at him. “Withdraw?”
“It’s become personal.”
“Between me and a perp, it’s always personal.”
“Not to this degree. He wants you on this case, so he can play his little games. Insinuate himself into every aspect of your life. As lead detective, you’re visible and accessible. Fully immersed in the hunt. And now he’s starting to stage the crime scenes for your benefit. To communicate with you.”
“All the more reason for me to stay on.”
“No. All the more reason for you to walk away. To put some distance between you and Hoyt.”
“I never walk away from anything, Agent Dean,” she shot back.
After a pause, he said dryly: “No. I can’t imagine you ever do.”
She was the one leaning forward now, in an attitude of confrontation. “What’s your problem with me, anyway? You’ve had it in for me from the start. You talked to Marquette behind my back. You raised doubts about me-”
“I never questioned your competence.”
“Then what is your problem with me?”
He responded to her anger in a voice that was calm and reasoned. “Consider who we’re dealing with. A man you once tracked down. A man who blames you for his capture. He’s still thinking about what he’d like to do to you. And you’ve spent the same year trying to forget what he did. He’s hungry for a second act, Jane. He’s laying the foundation, drawing you right in where he wants you. It’s not a safe place to be.”
“Is it really my safety you’re concerned about?”
“Are you implying I have another agenda?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t figured you out yet.”
He stood and went to the VCR. Ejected the tape and slid it back in the envelope. He was stalling for time, trying to come up with a believable answer.
He sat down again and looked at her. “The truth is,” he said, “I haven’t figured you out, either.”
She laughed. “Me? What you see is what you get.”
“All you’ll let me see is the cop. What about Jane Rizzoli, the woman?”
“They’re one and the same.”
“You know that’s not true. You just won’t let anyone see past the badge.”
“What am I supposed to let them see? That I’m missing that precious Y chromosome? My badge is the only thing I want them to see.”
He leaned forward, his face close enough to invade personal space. “This is about your vulnerability as a target. It’s about a perp who already knows how to turn the screws on you. A man who’s managed to get within striking distance. And you never even knew he was there.”
“Next time I will know.”
“Will you?”
They stared at each other, their faces as close as two lovers. The dart of sexual desire that shot through her was so sudden and unexpected it felt like both pain and pleasure at once. Abruptly she pulled back, her face hot, and even though her gaze met his from a safer distance, she still felt exposed. She was not good at hiding her emotions, and she’d always felt hopelessly inadequate when it came to flirting or engaging in all the other small dishonesties that play out between men and women. She strove to keep her expression unchanged but found she could not keep looking at him without feeling transparent to his gaze.
“You do understand there’ll be a next time,” he said. “It’s not just Hoyt now. There are two of them. If that doesn’t scare the hell out of you, it should.”
She looked down at the envelope containing the videotape, which Hoyt had meant her to see. The game was just beginning, advantage Hoyt, and yes, she was scared.
In silence she gathered up her papers.
“Jane?”
“I heard everything you said.”
“It doesn’t make a difference to you. Does it?”
She looked at him. “You know what? A bus could hit me when I cross the street outside. Or I could keel over at my desk from a stroke. But I don’t think about those things. I can’t let them take over. I almost did, you know. The nightmares-they just about wore me down. But now I’ve got my second wind. Or maybe I’ve just gone numb and I can’t feel anything anymore. So the best I can do is put one foot in front of the other and keep on marching. That’s how to get through this, just keep on marching. That’s all any of us can do.”
She was almost relieved when her beeper went off. It gave her a reason to break eye contact, to look down at the digital readout on her pager. She felt him watching her as she crossed to the conference room phone and dialed.
“Hair and Fiber. Volchko,” a voice answered.
“Rizzoli. You paged.”
“It’s about those green nylon fibers. The ones lifted from Gail Yeager’s skin. We found identical fibers on Karenna Ghent’s skin as well.”
“So he’s using the same fabric to wrap all his victims. No surprises there.”
“Oh, but I do have one little surprise for you.”
“What’s that?”
“I know which fabric he used.”
Erin pointed to the microscope. “The slides are all ready for you. Take a look.”
Rizzoli and Dean sat down facing each other, eyes pressed to the microscope’s double teaching head. Through the lenses, they saw the same view: two strands, laid side by side for comparison.
“The fiber on the left was lifted from Gail Yeager. The one on the right from Karenna Ghent,” said Erin. “What do you think?”
“They look identical,” said Rizzoli.
“They are. They’re both DuPont nylon type six, six, drab green. The filaments are thirty-denier, extremely fine.” Erin reached into a folder and took out two graphs, which she laid on the countertop. “And here’s the ATR spectra again. Number one is from Yeager, number two from Ghent.” She glanced at Dean. “You’re familiar with Attenuated Total Reflection techniques, Agent Dean?”
“It’s an infrared mode, isn’t it?”
“Right. We use it to distinguish surface treatments from the fiber itself. To detect any chemicals that have been applied to the fabric after weaving.”
“And were there any?”
“Yes, a silicone rub. Last week, Detective Rizzoli and I went over the possible reasons for such a surface treatment. We didn’t know what this fabric was designed for. What we did know was that these fibers are heat- and light-resistant. And that the threads are so fine that, if woven together, they’d be watertight.”