There was no easy way from Charlestown to Back Bay. The potholes, the din of the siren, and the run-down houses that passed her tunnel vision gave Elizabeth a splitting headache and almost made her nauseous. The constant stop-and-go didn't make things any better. Boston motorists rarely formed lanes out of habit to let police or emergency vehicles through. Add in air conditioning and music turned up loud with the windows closed, and most drivers didn't even hear the sirens until they were right behind them. And even then, not always. Eventually, the traffic thinned. Elizabeth chased the car up over the road at more than 74 miles per hour, yet it didn't make Elizabeth's headache any better. Neither did the fear that the crime scene would be contaminated long before they finally arrived.
Nearly half an hour had passed when they jumped out of the unmarked car with Dolan, their fears fading. What reassured them was what wasn't there: no coroner's car, no forensics vehicle. Jane's orders had been followed to the letter. Only the garbage collection car was there, the two cops making sure no one got past their patrol car.
Apart from the blocked passage, no one seemed to care about the matter. If anyone asked questions, the cops answered what Jane had inculcated in them. "One water main we checked. No danger."
Elizabeth pushed the blazer aside to reveal her detective badge. It was the first time she'd been to a real crime scene in nearly a year, and though it was serious business, she had to suppress a grin. She was back on the street, and thus back in the game. She followed Jane and Dolan to the back of the garbage truck and peered into the cargo bin.
On top of a mountain of trash lay a large burlap sack. Human bones protruded from a crack on its side. It stank, but Elizabeth barely noticed. She had smelled many decomposing corpses over the years, and rotting garbage was a no-brainer for her.
Jane turned with a poker face to the patrol officers, all young, intimidated, and perhaps even frightened given Jane's high rank.
"Who was here first?" the captain asked.
Two of the uniformed officers raised their hands, and Jane beckoned them over. "Did you see what was in the garbage truck?"
"Yes, ma'am," said one of the cops, whose name tag identified him as Singh.
"Did anyone else see it? Besides the two garbage men?"
"No, captain," replied the other officer, whose name was Hammond. "We had orders not to let anyone near it. Not even the sergeant saw it."
"Did you fill out sixty-one?" asked Jane, referring to the number on the standard report form.
"We were told to wait for you," Officer Singh said.
Jane nodded in satisfaction as the officers followed her orders. "Here's what we're going to do," she said. "The garbage men reported what they thought they saw. You guys responded to the radio report and took a look for yourselves, and since you weren't sure what you were looking at, you seized the vehicle first. And on my orders, Sergeant Dolan is taking over here. Do we understand each other?"
"You said it, Captain," Officer Hammond replied, noticeably intimidated by the captain's presence. Jane pulled a notepad from her pocket. "I'm writing down your names and badge numbers," she said, already writing. "Do what I say, keep this thing to yourselves, and I'll personally make sure you're taken care of."
Both officers knew what that meant: if they followed the captain's orders, she would put them on her list for transfer to a detective unit. "So," Jane said in conclusion. "The garbage truck needs to be towed to the depot and the two workers need to be brought to my office. Tell your sergeant I've asked you to handle this, if he has any questions, he's welcome to contact me directly."
"The sergeant is a woman, but we'll tell her," Officer Singh replied, and the two gestured for the shocked garbage men to follow them to the patrol car. When they were out of earshot, Jane turned back to Dolan. "We'll have forensics come out in their civilian van and get the garbage can. Then have them meet us at the depot with the medical examiner and empty the garbage truck."
Elizabeth heard all of this as she looked around. Her unease grew with each passing second. "I don't get it," she said.
"What?" asked Jane.
"He could have scattered the bones out in this forest and it would have taken us weeks to find them if we ever did. Instead, he throws them in a trash can in broad daylight, in an area with more cameras than a bus full of Japanese tourists."
Jane immediately turned her head to look around at the cameras her daughter had been talking about, and three immediately caught her eye. "He's got a nerve, whoever this psycho is," the captain said. "The Medical Examiner's office needs to hurry up with the DNA."
"First they have to get DNA from the bones before they can process anything," Dolan said dejectedly. "It's going to be another month before we have a positive identification on these bones."
"We don't have a month," Jane returned. "We have time until word leaks out that these are Rosa Castillo's bones. Someone will remember the cases from over twenty years ago, the media will know, and people will panic that a serial killer is back that we didn't catch years ago." She turned to her daughter. "Until we positively identify those bones as Rosa Castillo's, not a word of this to your sister, you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," Elizabeth replied obediently.
"Good," Jane said, sounding almost absent-minded. "Escort the two garbage men to the BPD. You don't need to ask them any questions. Sergeant Dolan's people will take over from there."
"And that's it?" said Elizabeth, unable to hide her disappointment as she suddenly realized she was out of the game again.
But Jane was done with Elizabeth and turned back to Dolan. "We're going to treat this case as kidnapping with murder," she explained. "Pick five detectives you trust and put them in a vacant office. Have Danny Savarese take the lead. We need to contain the story as best we can." When she realized Elizabeth was still standing with them, her expression stiffened. "You have your orders," the captain growled. "And this time you'll follow them. I'll see you at your desk when I get back to the station."
Elizabeth moved away before saying anything else she would regret. She took a seat in the passenger seat of the patrol car. The two garbage men were already in the back seat. She didn't understand why her mother had to humiliate her in front of Dolan, but she knew very well why she had been dismissed so rudely. Jane valued loyalty and trust above all else, and this was Elizabeth's receipt for breaking the deal with the captain. The only problem was that Elizabeth Rizzoli basically finished a job she started. And as the patrol car weaved through traffic with its siren wailing, she vowed it would be no different this time. Even if she had to disobey her mother's direct orders again.
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Sitting at a table in the back of the diner, a stainless steel-lined structure that looked like an old food truck, Katherine impatiently drank her black coffee and promptly burned her tongue. Cursing silently, she looked out at the street, which now at eleven at night was barely busy, and wondered why Elizabeth hadn't answered the phone all day. Then, three hours ago, she had finally called back to say she couldn't talk right now, and they had arranged to meet at the diner. But after all those hours without a word, Katherine was downright panicked about Rosa's well-being.
She looked around the virtually empty diner, where a waitress was refilling the salt shakers and ketchup bottles for the next day. She thought back to her last visit here with Elizabeth and was glad that this time at least her own life wasn't in danger, even if she was beside herself with worry for Rosa.
She was reaching into her purse to pull out her cell phone when she heard the door open with a squeak. When she looked up, she saw her sister come in, with a face as she'd been through hell, and if that wasn't enough, she had Max, her companion dog, on a leash.
All at once, Katherine felt nothing but sympathy for this woman who had done so much for her and put her through so much, having survived her wife's suicide and an investigation into her suspected murder. "Over here," Katherine called out.
Elizabeth turned her head. Max came up to Katherine joyfully wagging his tail, recognizing her scent from her visit at Elizabeth's apartment. "Sorry I'm late," Elizabeth said wearily as she took a seat across from her sister, squinting at the brown china cup of black coffee Katherine had ordered for her at least ten minutes ago.
"You might want to get a fresh one," the doctor remarked.
Elizabeth lifted the cup and took a sip. "That's all right," she replied, "and I'm even more sorry I couldn't return your calls. I'm under strict orders not to say a word to you about all that happened today."
Katherine sat back, feeling exhausted. Was it all going to be for nothing?
But Elizabeth wasn't done yet. "Don't worry," she continued. "Just because I have this order, it doesn't mean I'm going to follow it."
That's the Liz Rizzoli I know, Katherine thought. She was more nervous than ever but grateful to know the truth. "What happened?"
"Not so fast. I've already made a thorough mess of things with Ma by breaking our agreement. If she finds out I disobeyed her again, I'll be out of a job."
"No one else ever has to know what you tell me."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, then took a deep breath. "Brace yourself, it's not pretty."
But Katherine was already prepared for the worst. "Rosa's dead," she said, and a tear fell from her right eye.
"We're pretty sure," Elizabeth replied, describing the day's madcap events, leaving out only the two murders twenty years ago. Katherine tried her best to take it all in as unemotionally as possible, but when she heard that Rosa's bones had been thrown in a trash can, new tears flowed.
"What about her family?" she asked, struggling to compose herself. "Her mother needs to know."
Elizabeth shook her head. "I can't do that right now. And you can't tell her or anyone else about this, or I'm screwed. I shouldn't even be on the case."
"So you want to make Rosa's mother wait and hope that her daughter is still alive," Katherine said. "That's just plain cruel."
"All we have are bones, Kate," her sister reminded her quietly but forcefully. "You only know all this because you're my little sister. In any other case, we'll wait for a positive identification before notifying next of kin. When the time comes, Sergeant Dolan will handle it."
"You're going to need a DNA sample from a family member."
A raucous group of close to a dozen loudly laughing, drunken men and women in their twenties suddenly came into the diner, annoying Elizabeth by sitting closer to them than she would have liked. Max had been lying on the floor at Elizabeth's feet and now sat up abruptly, ready to protect his owner. "I can't ask Rosa's mother to give us one," Elizabeth said, taking another sip of her lukewarm coffee. "Officially, I'm not involved. It's going to take a month to get DNA from these bones and determine, and until the results are in, they don't officially exist as far as the police are concerned."
Katherine knew her sister was hiding something. And it made her angry. "What aren't you telling me?" she asked, struggling to control herself. Her gaze followed Elizabeth's around the diner, and all at once, she realized what Elizabeth was trying to say. She wants to tell me, but there are too many people here.
As if reading her mind, the detective waved at the waitress for the check. "Outside," she said.
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They walked down the street. A fresh, cool breeze blew up from the Charles River, which was only a block away. It was a relief after the heat of the day.
Katherine saw scattered people walking.
Once Elizabeth was satisfied that they were alone, she began to narrate. "Fewer than ten people know what I'm about to tell you, and it has to stay that way," she emphasized, and then told about the two murders from over twenty years ago.
When she finished, Katherine looked at her as if stunned. "And you think the same person killed Rosa?"
"Why not?" retorted Elizabeth. "He was never caught and the victims were never identified."
„Well, if it's the same killer, he should be pretty old by now," Katherine replied, and her sister grunted in amusement. She rolled her eyes. "And you've never heard of a serial killer taking a break for almost forty years, have you?"
"But it's not impossible," the detective replied. "He could have done time for another crime and recently been released. The boys will have to check that out. On the other hand, it could be a copycat killer," Elizabeth concluded.
Katherine was skeptical. "Copycats usually emulate known criminals because they want to be like them or even better. And you have no idea who committed the original crime."
"Good point," Elizabeth admitted. "I can only hope our people search the evidence room for the bones of the first two women if they weren't buried in a pauper's grave years ago. If they find the bones and take their DNA, we might have a chance to identify the victims. And besides," she said suddenly, as an idea struck her, "who's to say there aren't more victims of this guy in shallow graves all over Greater Boston? The problem is that the two old cases were barely investigated at the time because of Charles Hoyt. We, I mean they," she corrected herself, "don't even know where to start."
"With Rosa Castillo, for example," Katherine replied as they waited for the traffic light at the corner. "And working their way backwards. But apparently, they don't want to do anything but cover it up so no one will know the mess they made twenty years ago."
The traffic light changed, and Katherine marched off to cross the street. At the same moment, Max yanked Elizabeth off the side of the road, causing her to stumble and grab Katherine's arm to keep from tripping.
"I'm sorry," the detective said.
"That's all right," the younger woman replied.
"It's not about politics," Elizabeth said now. "They're not trying to cover anything up. They just don't want a panic in the city, and I can't blame them. But they can only keep it quiet until Rosa is positively identified. So they have about a month."
"Not if I can help it," Katherine whispered.
The detective stopped abruptly. "What the hell does that mean?" asked Elizabeth, afraid her sister might leak the news.
"It means I'm going to try to identify her faster."
That worried the detective. "You can't even know she's dead. I'd hate to have to regret telling you."
Her sister was right, and Katherine appreciated the risk she was taking on her behalf. "Let me rephrase that," the doctor relented as an open-top double-decker bus passed by on its night tour. Tourists on board waved at them. "What would you say if I could possibly identify Rosa faster?"
"Do you have to break the law to do that?"
"Do you really want an answer to that?"
For the first time since their conversation began, Elizabeth smiled. "Of course not," she replied, and her tone made it clear that her sister had her unofficial blessing. "And if anyone asks me, we will never have had this conversation."
Katherine grinned broadly. "What conversation?"
Elizabeth grunted again and gave her little sister a long but meaningful look.
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"And you really think Liz will follow your orders?" asked Maura, who was already sitting up in bed and had turned her head toward the door of the bathroom, from which light was shining.
"Liz knows fully well that if she talks to anyone about this, it will end her career," Jane's voice rang out from Bath before she stepped out.
"We're still talking about the same woman, aren't we?" asked Maura, and the captain rolled her eyes when she saw Maura's grin. "You do realize that neither of them has kept secrets from each other since Lucas Cope. What makes you think our eldest daughter won't tell her little sister, who put her on this case in the first place, any of the things that have come to light today?"
Jane frowned deeply and exhaled loudly before turning off the bathroom light, and crawling under the covers. "Because I'm in hopes that Elizabeth will finally understand that just because she's my daughter, it doesn't mean she has fool's license. And that there are rules within the BPD that she too must abide by or face the consequences for her disobedience."
"Don't you think Liz already understands that?" asked Maura, turning to her wife. "She hasn't seen a real crime scene in almost a year."
"Maura," Jane growled, nearly jumping out of bed again.
This was not the first time the two women had this conversation, and it usually ended with one of them going to bed pissed off. "With all due respect, it's not your place to tell me how to run my unit. I don't tell you how to run your office either."
Maura sat back up and took a long, hard look at her wife. "I don't tell you how to run your unit or how to treat your detectives, Jane. But don't you think you've punished Liz long enough?"
"Any other of my detectives I would have kicked out on the spot after he or she went after a colleague in front of an assembled team and nearly put him in the hospital," Jane replied firmly, furrowing her brows. "I'm still far too lenient with Elizabeth. She's lucky that -"
"That what?" the lawyer interrupted her wife, sitting up bolt upright. "That she gets to do desk duty until she retires?" she asked, and Jane pressed her lips together. "Jane, you know she's going to wither away doing that. Liz isn't cut out to do paperwork. She's your best detective, and you know it."
Jane pressed her lips together and glanced briefly at the bedroom door, an escape route to get out of the way of this conversation before it degenerated into an argument, secretly, though, she agreed with the lawyer. Elizabeth was the best detective Homicide could come up with at the moment. Sometimes she even wondered if her daughter was even better than she was, and she hated that she had had to bench Elizabeth. In fact, had it not been for the incident with James Mason, she would have made Elizabeth her right-hand woman instead of Dolan. Dolan, while good and with years of experience, was not as good as her daughter, but after Elizabeth went after Mason, her detectives might have gotten the impression that she was favoring her daughter and also rewarding her for her inglorious behavior, so she had thought of a punishment that would not cause any misunderstanding. And for Elizabeth, desk duty was an even worse punishment than if she had had to turn in her badge and gun. "She's hotheaded and can't follow orders," she now growled.
Maura raised her eyebrows. "I wonder who Liz could have gotten that from."
"Not from me," the captain replied, pointing her fingers at her chest, alluding to the fact that Maura had, on more than one occasion, defied the orders of her superiors when they thought that Maura should rest her investigation.
"What are you implying?"
"That she didn't inherit that kind of stubbornness from me. I've always followed the orders of my superiors."
"Oh, yeah?"
Jane slumped her shoulders and furrowed her brows. "Yes, most of the time. Often." She looked and crawled back into bed. "Now and then."
Maura turned back to her wife and propped her head on her hand. "If I remember correctly, Frankie once told me that you had instructions at the time to stop looking for me and leave it to other detectives. Detectives who had been neutral."
Jane looked at her long and hard and sighed loudly. "That was different."
"Why?" whispered Maura, her eyes penetrating. "Why was it different?"
"I didn't beat anyone up."
"No, but you shot someone instead."
"To protect you."
"Liz wasn't doing much else, Jane." Maura ran her hand over the scar on Jane's shoulder, still a clear witness to what had happened years ago. "That's exactly what Liz was trying to do, protect, defend our family and her own."
Jane took a long look at her and gritted her teeth. She was still plagued by dreams in which she had to tell her young daughters that she hadn't been able to find Maura. Or dreams in which she hadn't been able to find Maura in time and Cope killed her. She was still haunted by the images as Elizabeth sat in front of her, bleeding, with a gunshot wound in her leg, asking about her mom. "Do you think our daughters' lives would have been different if -"
"If we weren't so screwed up?" asked Maura as her wife fell silent, and Jane now looked her in the eye. "I don't think it would have made much difference if Cope hadn't tried to kill us or kidnap us and sell us off to a child molester." She paused and gulped at the thought that Lucas Cope had tried to trap her youngest daughter in the basest way possible. I'm not entirely sure Kate would have become a psychiatrist, I would have guessed much more like a surgeon or a priest, but I know Liz would have followed your lead and become a cop, even without the influence of Cope and Wilkinson."
"Why?"
"Isn't it obvious?" asked Maura, and Jane shook her head gently. "Because she admires you, Jane always has. To her, you've always been the cool Ma and I've always been the buzzkill."
Jane looked at her with a grin and chuckled when suddenly her wife's hand was over her mouth.
"Don't you say it," Maura warned her with a big grin.
"I just wanted to say that I don't think you're a buzzkill and that I love you," Jane said, muffled but laughing.
Maura grinned incredulously and dropped her hand again. "Yeah, right."
"I really do love you."
Maura looked warningly and turned her back to the other woman. "I love you too," she said smiling as an arm wrapped around her middle.
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Katherine walked quickly down the hall to her office, but not so quickly as to attract attention from the building cleaners who were mopping the floor here and there. It was after midnight, the hospital wing with the doctors' offices was empty, and although her sneakers barely made a sound, Katherine felt vulnerable and alone in the glare of the overhead lights. Her goal was to identify Rosa and let her family know. That she did it late at night was no accident. The building teemed with patients and doctors during the day. But at that hour, it was much less likely that she would be caught. And there was no way that could happen, because what she was about to do could cost her her license to practice medicine, for which she had worked so tirelessly, not to mention that she personally and the hospital would face a most unpleasant lawsuit.
Stopping in front of her office, she unlocked it quietly with lights turned off. She entered, pulled the door shut, and stood in the dark. She cursed herself for lowering the blinds on the window during the day as she made her way to the desk. When she stubbed her toe on the foot of the couch, she winced in pain and thought henceforth of her late fiancé.
Reaching the desk, she finally turned on the lamp, the glow of which would be less noticeable in the crack under the door than the overhead light. She chided herself for being so worried that someone might see her. Any doctor could come up with a plausible explanation for why they were working late. But she would have to save her explanation for the next step. That would be the most dangerous part of her nighttime mission, and it would go over in another part of the hospital.
But only if she was right.
Katherine unlocked her desk. The click of the lock echoed through the room, reminding her that she had one last chance to turn back. But the memory of Rosa was too strong, driving her forward. She opened the bottom left drawer, pulled out a thick folder, and flipped through it until she came to the section she was looking for and found confirmation that her memory had not deceived her. She made a few notes, tore the slip of paper from the pad, and stuffed it into her purse. Then she turned off the lamp and made it to the door without another mishap. She was convinced she was doing the right thing. And she knew it had to be done whether she succeeded or not.