I love the early summer mornings in Boston.
They are not too hot and not too cold. That makes it more bearable to be at the harbor.
I like it to be at the harbor when I can't sleep at all.
If the unrest has affected me and leaves me shaking like a leave.
I am anything but a frightened woman.
I have more than once defied the threat and looked death in the eye.
It literally belongs to my everyday life.
I glance at my watch that sits around my right wrist and am proud of myself at the same time.
I already run since a three-quarter of an hour and still have no fatigue.
That rarely happens after I had covered such a distance.
But the burning sensation in the muscles in my legs feels good, makes me feel alive.
The effort makes my heart beat hard against my rib cage and my pants echoes in my ears.
Any thoughts are like wiped out.
The rising sun is reflecting on the surface of the ocean and a gull flies shrieking over my head.
A few spring clouds are at the blue sky. It's going to be a hot day and I'm glad, I dint have to be in the sauna room of an office, not until later.
Maybe I should have taken my dog Jo Friday with me. She loves the harbor ... And the seagulls.
I literally can see her tail wagging and hear her excited barking.
I stop and take a deep breath of the fresh sea air.
My name is Jane Rizzoli.
J am thirty-two years old, am single and have two brothers.
Frankie and Tommy.
Frankie is the middle child. He is three years younger than me and a police officer.
He is a raising star in the BPD, when he gets his impulsiveness under control.
Tommy is the younger.
He was pampered by our Ma. So didn't grew up very independent.
Basically he's a good guy. But he has his faults.
Tommy was in prison after he was accused and charged because of drunk driving and hit-and-run after he had run over a priest.
A priest we know.
Our mother, Angela Rizzoli, is a gracious woman.
She sees in everything and everyone only the best.
Sometimes she can't understand how people can do to each other such cruelty.
She is also very overprotective.
Especially to her children.
This sucks!

What should I tell about me?
Name: Jane C. Rizzoli.
Age: 32.
Family status: Single.
Profession: Detective of Homicide, Boston Police.
Hobbies: Ugh!
This is my CV in summary.
I'm Detective Jane Rizzoli, Boston Homicide.
It's my dream job, but it demands a lot.
I come from an Italian-American family.
I went to the police academy right my graduation.
My Ma almost got a heart attack.
But it didn't held me back.
Already as a child, I had a very strong protective instinct.
I never let anything come to my brothers.
No matter how big or strong the guy was, who wanted to beat Frankie or Tommy, he first had to pass me.
I was the last hurdle, and most of the time I won.
And that hasn't changed to this day.
Benefits of a girl slash woman.
I realized very early that I am different. That I don't fit in the cliché of a classic chick.
As a child, I played with Matchbox instead with Barbie.
In school, rather was playing basketball and softball instead of cheer from the sidelines as a cheerleader.
I stood up for the weak and humiliated the cool kids.
I humiliated not because it was fun or because I was able to, but to give understanding.
Unsuccessful.
School is still school.
I had my first girlfriend at thirteen.
I was embarrassed, after all we are Catholics and I went to a Catholic school.
Her name was Annette.
She was cute. Had blonde hair and light blue eyes.
Ma caught us as we made out when she just came into my room.
Although the door was closed!
As a result, Annette became from my could seven to my worst nightmare.
She denied me and broke my heart for the very first time.
Because of that I put up the first layer of my protective wall.
That was one of many reasons over the years.
Of course, Ma was horrified that I made out with another girl, but she composed herself pretty fast and reassured me, kissed and assured that ever thing was totally fine.
No exorcism was needed or performed on me.
My father, Frank, was initially outraged.
Hah, my father.
The biggest of all storyteller.
He reproached and lectured me about being a good Catholic while he cheated on my Ma with one of Tommy's girlfriends.

I know one thing for sure, Catholic or not: if I really love someone, then I don't cheat on them.
This is a principle rule.
This is how I live.
Unconditional loyalty, trust.
In romantic relationships, such as in friendships.
Maybe therefore I'm still single.
It's not because I'm unattractive, in the contrary.
It's because that I don't immediately trust everybody that crosses my way.
I slowly stretch my arms over my head and enjoy the lurk warm sun rays on my skin.
I gasp as someone run against me and open my eyes again.
A beautiful blonde is in front of me and looks at me shocked.
She has her blonde hairs in a loose ponytail.
I learned early that I prefer blondes.
That they're my predator-prey system.
But this beauty in front of me is kinda other.
Her advance is not like my other victims, with whom I always just ... cuddle, and then never see them again.
Her advance is confident and at the same time she seems vulnerable.
The impact hasn't really done much to me, but she tumbles back two steps.
I react automatically and grab her at her elbows, so she don't sit down on her bottom. "Whoa, hold your horses." I laugh.
She blushes and shakes her head, "I'm sorry. I was lost in my thoughts and did not see you. I'm really sorry."
"It's all right. Nobody is injured, right?"
She wipes her hands at her breathable workout pants and stick her right hand out to me. "I am Maura Isles."
I shake the small hand, shake it and get lost in her indefinable eyes.
In them are the colors of brown, green and gold.
I've never seen such eyes before.
How does the saying go?
The eyes are the mirror of the soul.
And I can say,with certainty that Maura Isles is different.
Maura smiles and thrusts her chin to our locked hands. "Maybe ... I could get my hand back?"
I didn't even notice that I still hold her hand.
Now it's my turn to blush.
But I don't let her see my discomfort. "Only if I can have a coffee with you in return."
"I don't drink coffee with strangers." She retorts.
I make a face and smile coyly, "Jane Rizzoli."
She smiles and I feel as if the whole harbor side lights up more.
It is a cute smile and a dimple appears on her left cheek.
She licks her lips and raises her carefully-sculpted eyebrows. "Agree. How about now?"
I glance at my watch and think short.
It's only a quarter past six and my shift at the precinct starts at eight o'clock.
I have plenty of time to make a detour to Boston Joe's. I point over my left shoulder, "I know a good Café. Right over the street."
She nods, "Lead the way, Jane Rizzoli."
The way my name rolls off her tongue sends a shiver down my spine.
I walk over the street and smile to myself.
It's been a while since I have invited a good-looking woman with no ulterior motives than just a coffee.
Well, it's not a directly invitation.
Much more a compensation because Maura ran into me.
But first hell must be freezing before I let this angelic creature pay for the drinks.
Or a truck must run me over to keep me from taking the bill.
I hesitate briefly and look to the left and the right to make sure that God hasn't anything against this acquaintance.
And at the moment I feel like a fool.
"What are you looking for?" Maura laughs.
I clear my throat, "For nothing."
I open the glass door, that leads into the interior of Boston Joe's, and let first Maura enter the Café.
She smiles a little and enters the coffee shop. "Thank you, Jane." she whisper.
Again, I feel the trickling feeling in the pit of my belly when she says my name.
I'm not quite sure if she's doing it on purpose, or whether understands what she triggers in me by doing that.
But the smile on her lips tell me that Maura somehow is aware of it. "Why are you smiling?"
She raises an brow. "I thought you were more predatory."
"Is that so? What made you think so?"
"You're whole body language. It was aligned on flirting and ... um ... more."
"More?" I ask skeptically.
"You know."

"No."
Maura clears her throat and leans in a little. "Sexual intercourse." she whispers.
I wrinkle my nose, "Really? Sexual intercourse?"
She blushes again.
I smile and give her a nudge with my shoulder. "Is that why you ran into me? So we have sexual intercourse?"

She looks at me as if I had lost my mind.
We take one step forward as the line moves.
"Of course not." she says. "I only wanted to run my daily morning round." she looks at me from head to toe. "Although I have to admit that you're very attractive."
"You're not bad yourself." I say.
She laughs and pushes me.
"So your second thought was that we have sex?"
Maura opens and closes her mouth.
I must admit that the idea is tempting. But I think she deserves better.
I am known as a womanizer.
And I don't miss out anything when a woman is offering herself to me.
Maura is a classy lady, not one of those sex kitten.
I know how to treat a woman with class.
You take them for dinner to a fancy restaurant, go with them into the theater and let things run their way.
You don't rush.
And moreover I don't know if Maura likes women, too.
Perhaps I really have sent the wrong signals.
I mean ...
"You're not that kind of woman." I say to distract me from my own thoughts.
She looks up to me and can't hide her confusion, "I beg your pardon?"
I take another step forward, "You're not that type of woman, who is offering herself to foreign person, in the hope for sex. And also I don't think that you like women the way I do."
She's quiet for a moment, then stands closer to me. "You don't know me, Jane Rizzoli."
I swallow hard and place our orders.
I have an triple latte and Maura an nonfat latte, which doesn't surprise me.
We find a table near the windows.
I sit down on the chair with a sigh, Maura sits opposite me.
I sip my drink and frown, "You're not from here, are you? I mean, from Boston."
"I was born here," she answers.
"But?"
"When I was older, my parents sent me to a boarding school in France. Well, I rather went voluntarily to the boarding school."
"Who goes voluntarily to an boarding school?" I ask and she looks down into her cup.
I immediately regret my stupid question. "I'm sorry, Maura."
She looks at me and shakes her head with a sad smile. "I was a weird kid. I spent a lot of time alone. I was adopted and my father was a professor and my mother, she came from a wealthy family. I was an only child." she pauses and I keep my mouth shut. "There was a lot of benign neglect. It's not that they didn't love me. It's just I didn't ask for much. I don't think I really knew how. And the less that I would ask for, the less time they had for me. They were just very involved in their own lives and into each other and ..." she looks at me and I can hear my own heart break. "They sent me to boarding school when I was ten. I actually think that I sent away for the brochure myself. Which they were delighted. I was really lost."
I sit there and don't know what to say.
I know that I can give people the feeling that they can confidence in me, that it has no consequences.
That's why I am so good at my job.
I get a confession in no time if I want to.
However, Maura isn't a suspect or killer that I interrogate.
And normal human interactions outside of work is not my strongest strength.
Jeez, the woman in front of me opened up herself and I sit here and stare at her as if she have three heads.
You can't blame me.
I mean, I've met Maura about an hour ago and to me it seems like I already know her well-kept secret.
I purse my lips and raise my eyebrows, "Well ... I have two brothers and a helicopter mom. I can share them with you."
She has to laugh, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I've become a little sentimental."
I smile and sip my coffee, "I have on many people this effect."
"What do you do for a living, Jane?" she changes the topic and drinks from her coffee.
I pause.
There are not many people who comfortable with the fact that I am a cop.
My mother included.
"I'm doing this and that." I answer.
She brushes the scar on the back of my right hand with her fingertips. "Has this this and that caused this scar?"

I jerk my hand back. Not on purpose, it's a reflex.
I'm starting to knead my hands.
The witnesses of a terrible memory. "It was a kind of ... accident at work."
She presses her lips to a thin line.
Maura realizes that it's a touchy subject for me and takes a deep breath, "Sometimes I can be very direct. Then I'm acting like a bull in a Chain shop."
I smile at her and shake my head. "It's just a very sensitive topic. Maybe I tell you the story someday." I tell her. "So, Maura Isles, what are you doing for a living?"
She licks her lips again and raises an shoulder. "I'm a doctor."
"Let me guess. Pediatrician, neurosurgeon?"
She laughs, "Neither. I am a Medical Examiner."
I pause. I hadn't expected that at all.
A beautiful woman like Maura surrounded by dead bodies?
No, I wouldn't have thought of that.
I see how she starts to chew nervously on the inside of her cheek.
I'm sure that she get a lot of discardment because of her career choice. Just like me. "This is ... unexpected." I say. "A very unusual choice of career."
"You think I'm repulsive."
"Why do you think that?"
"This is the reaction I mostly get."
"I'm not repelled. Quite on the contrary. I'm impressed. This work must be done, right?"
She smiles and reaches out for my hand but stops, then she pulls her hand back.
At the same moment I hate myself for being so sensitive when it comes to my damn hands.
I am sure that her skin is as soft as it looks like.
I'd give anything to get a glimpse.
I sigh and glance at my watch.
The time has flew by in a heartbeat.
I gotta get back on my way to my apartment if I still want to take a shower.
I look apologetically at Maura. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. We have to repeat it." I say and get up. I look at her and smile. "I mean it."
She smiles and scribbles something on a paper napkin. She hands it to me.
I said scribble? Her handwriting is neat and I would have never thought that she's a doctor.
Under other circumstances, I would have said that I would like to be examined by Maura.
But ... I like my life.
Not that I am afraid that Maura is a serial killer.
But she is an ME.
Not that it is scaring me away.
Damn, I'm a Detective of Boston Homicide.
I hold Maura's phone number in my hand and grin.
She licks her lips once more and smiles mischievously. "Call me."
I hold the napkin up and start to walk. "Sure as rain." I say and I mean it.