I don't own anything... I'm going to have to ask everyone to bear with me again. I'm uploading this chapter and the next at the same time, so everyone just trust me. I don't normally do this, and I don't like doing this, but I'm feeling nervous about this chapter.
Also, if you haven't been listening to the music that's totally cool. But I'm gonna say, you're really going to want to listen to this track while reading this one. It enhances the experience.
Mad World - Gary Jules with Michael Andrews
"Our two souls therfore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery thinness beat.
If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two;
They soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th' other do.
And though it in the center sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun."
- excerpt from John Donne's "A Valediction Forbidding Mourning"
They found Jane Rizzoli's body on the couch of an average middle class family's home, not far from Fenway Park. The children were away at some sort of summer school and the parents had used the much needed alone time for a drink. They came home in the early morning, just as the sun was rising. They hadn't been home in days. They had stayed at a friend's place. That night, they hit at least two bars, three clubs, and some chain restaurant that was selling a large bucket of chicken for three dollars.
They came home to a body. And blood. The blood stained the soft white carpeting they had installed a month ago. The mother had spent half a year deciding on what kind of carpeting she wanted. She was deciding between the blue material – the one with the shorter hairs – and the one that adorned their floor when they walked in. Severely rattled and in a heavy state of shock, all she could think about was how she wished she had chosen the blue carpeting instead of the white.
Her husband frantically called the police.
A body, yes. In our living room. Please. Please come… No, no one is here right now, except for us…. We're safe. Our kids are away… Please come. The blood is everywhere. My wife is afraid.
The dispatcher sent an alert, and the first responder arrived on the scene. The moment he saw the badge hanging around the stripped bones, he ran to his radio, desperately waving his partner over to look at the body and the Boston Police Department badge.
He yelled the address into the radio. We got a dead cop here. A detective. A dead cop.
He wondered if the detective was someone he knew. He wondered if he had seen the detective walking around in the precinct. He had only been out on the beat for three months. Being first responder to a dead cop in his first three months. It was too much. Fuck.
When Frost had caught wind of the news, he called Jane. She didn't answer. He called a second time. Still no answer. On the third call, he left a message. It was Jane's night off. But all hands would be on deck for a dead cop case. He called Korsak next. All hands on deck.
Cavanaugh arrived half an hour before Frost and Korsak.
Where's Rizzoli? Fine. So you called. Call again. Did you call Doctor Isles? Well, she should be here too. Call her first.
They still didn't know to whom the bones belonged to, to which detective. Cavanaugh was tempted to do a roll call. They needed ID. Now. The body had been stripped to the bone. No fingerprints, no hair, no nothing. There was only the blood that stained the white, white carpets.
Frankie arrived on the scene, helping the other beat cops keep the growing number of bystanders away. From the corner of his eye he saw his partner put a blanket around the shivering mother. He found Cavanaugh and respectfully asked to see the body. Cavanaugh let him. Frankie's Rizzoli's little sister. He sent him in, to check. Rizzoli wasn't answering his phone. But as much as he wanted an ID… He sure as hell didn't want it to be Rizzoli lying in the room.
They made him wear gloves before he stepped into the house. Frankie walked in closer to the body. The skeleton looked like some corny Halloween decoration. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the small medallion hanging around the body's neck, next to the badge.
No one but him would've noticed it. No one but him and ma.
Frankie wanted to vomit. He felt tears rise up into his eyes. He wanted to punch something. Someone. Anyone. But he wanted to vomit first. He grabbed the back of the couch and was glad he wore the gloves like he was asked. He felt his face go pale. Frost looked over.
You okay, Frankie?
Janie. That's Janie… Fuck, that's Janie, man. That's Janie lying there!
He stepped away from the body, unable to believe his ears. He could see Frankie trembling. Korsak was beginning to notice the commotion. Cavanaugh was outside talking to Maura Isles, who had just arrived on the scene. Her hair was uncharacteristically messy, and she looked like shit.
Frankie was crying.
Ma gave us both these necklaces, see? See?
Frankie pulled his out. St. Christopher's image was emblazoned onto the metal.
She gave them too us both! St. Christopher's head… We used to joke about it. We used to… We…
Frost brought his finger to the necklace. St. Christopher, it said, pray for us. The angel's head seemed to have been forgotten. He jerked his hand away, like the metal had stung him. He felt like vomiting, too. He thought he could deal with the bones. He was proud. He imagined the joke Jane would've come up with, had she been there.
Cavanaugh led Maura into the room.
It's not in your expertise but… Our bone expert isn't getting here until later. Just give us the basics, doc… Yes… Well… Can you just give us an estimate?... It's a cop in there, doc.
But Cavanaugh's heart sunk when he saw Frankie bolt out of the room. He heard retching outside.
Maura Isles was to fazed to notice anything, to notice Frankie's devastated face, or Cavanaugh's defeated expression. She didn't notice Frost, still frozen where he stood. Korsak looked over at Maura with sad eyes. He hadn't said a word since Frankie had spoken. He was waiting for confirmation. From her. Maura.
Maura examined the bones with her usual professionalism.
Woman… Tall…
A feeling began to sink in her gut. The details began to fit together. Frankie. Frost.
Caucasian…
She thought she was done crying. She thought she had exhausted her supply of tears. She could still feel the trails they had left only hours before. It had left her dehydrated and with a headache. She thought she was done crying.
Frost picked up the phone that was lying next to the body. It still had a bar of battery left. One new voice mail. His voice caught in his throat when he heard his voice, informing her of the dead cop some family had found near Fenway.
Caucasian… Of Italian descent…
Doctor Maura Isles fell to the ground. And that was all the confirmation they needed.
Maura, Frankie, and Frost wouldn't be on the case. Cavanaugh stressed that as much as he could, doing his best to beat the concept into their heads. He could tell they weren't listening. He could tell they couldn't even begin to hear a single word. They were grieving. For a friend. A sister. A partner. For Jane Rizzoli.
As they left, to complete the second most dreaded task of the day, Cavanaugh silently grieved, too. Rizzoli was one of the best. One of his best. She was one of his men, and he was responsible for her. And she died on his watch… Like that young private in his squad when he and Korsak chewed dirt in Kuwait. Yes, Korsak would lead this investigation. He knew Jane well and wasn't a legal liability. This was going to be done right.
Maura refused to leave the back of the black car, so only Frankie and Frost went up to knock on the door. Frankie let Frost knock. He couldn't bear to knock on the door of his own home.
But Angela had already seen the black car drive up, and she had already seen one uniformed officer and a man in civilian clothes walk up the small steps, a somber expression glued to their faces. She already saw Frankie, refusing to look at the door.
Frankie's voice was hoarse.
Ma. Janie… She's…
Frost put a hand on Frankie's shoulder. But his voice was hoarse too. Quiet. Soft.
I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am.
Maura watched as Angela collapsed into Frankie's arms, desperately sobbing. Angela had guessed. Angela had known. She had heard about the dead cop – the dead detective – on the police radio that she had secretly swiped, unbeknownst to her children. And when she saw the two of them walk out of the car… But she had hoped, with all her heart, that they were only coming to tell her that her little Janie, her little baby girl, was alive and fine.
Frank, checking to see what exactly was going on, caught glimpse of his wife. When he saw Frankie's face, he knew. It was about Janie. Had the news been about Frankie, or Tommy, Frank would've done for his sons what any other father would've done. He would've let the tears touch his eyes but then he would make them go away. He would be strong.
Janie was her little girl. Daddy's girl. His mind flashed back to memories of a small little female Rizzoli crossing her arms and refusing to apologize to their neighbor's son. She had punched him, and he was crying. He called me a name first, she had exclaimed, feisty.
From the back of the car, Maura could see the three of them together, and Frost. She remembered sitting with Frank, Frankie, and Jane, at the Dirty Robber, trying to fix the pipes. Jane had gotten her to throw nuts at the two, male Rizzoli's.
She remembered Jane's voice, telling Maura that she needed her, from behind her apartment door when Ian would let go. She remembered Jane walking away, telling her not to worry.
I won't do nothing stupid, she had said.
Maura felt the tears fall from her eyes again.
Funeral. It isn't cliché; there is no rain pouring out from the sky. It isn't anti-climatic; there's hardly any sun or birds or bugs. It's plain. There's a drizzle, here and there. Clouds cover the sky and the sun is hard to see but it's still bright and now it's only cool, not humid. Maura expected the sky to have come up with something dramatic. Like thunder. No thunder today. Plain.
Ian had insisted on taking her to the funeral. Maura had refused.
No… Yes, I am sorry…. You have to understand… I have to do this alone. I have to go alone… Please, Ian… Just leave.
The guns are fired. Blanks. They still make Maura flinch. Boom. Boom. Boom.
An officer plays Taps. The song breaks Maura's heart.
The detectives won't tell Maura anything about the case. Korsak let it slip that the blood was Jane's. All of it. Maura had measured the amount at the scene. So much blood… Too much blood. Too much blood to lose in one sitting… Without dying.
Police officers gather around the casket and remove the flag. They fold it and one officer kneels in front of Angela Rizzoli, handing her the flag that had just slept over the wood. He leaves and another officer arrives. He kneels before Frank and does the same. The man's jaw tenses as he takes it.
The priest shares a few words.
Jane Rizzoli. Good cop. Hero. Citizen. Friend. Cared too much. Loved. Driven. Driven to protect. Good cop.
Maura remembers Jane's words, the last words that Jane had said to her. The last words that Maura heard from Jane. The last words that Maura would ever hear from Jane.
I'm just a dumb cop, and there isn't any use fighting for me.
Dumb cop… No use… Jane's words.
There's a line. People are saying final goodbyes to Jane. Maura joins the line. She doesn't want to. The line means goodbye. Maura doesn't want to say goodbye. Not to Jane. Not ever. She wants Jane to come back, to walk out from behind the tree and laugh that Jane Rizzoli laugh and tell everyone that it's just a bad joke. A really bad joke. A really, really bad joke. But a joke.
She walks up to the casket and puts her hand on it. She predicts where Jane's hand would be.
What you said, it's not true. You deserve so much. You deserve the world.
Maura chokes back a sob and walks away from the casket, unable to bear anymore. She senses someone coming up behind her to check on her, so she pretends not to notice and walks away.
She wants Jane. She misses Jane.
She feels like fainting but doesn't. Jane's here, she thinks. Jane's watching. Jane doesn't like it when you find. She doesn't like it when you cry. Don't cry, Maura. Don't cry.
She closes her eyes and holds on to a memory of a happier Jane, desperately clutching it, terrified that if, in the days to come, she did not, the memory would disappear, leaving her only with the more bitter memory of Jane's last moments with her.
The smell of the grass at the cemetery made Maura's stomach turn.