-16-

The car didn't get any further than the old water house. Unmown grass grew between rutted gutters. Stones as big as fists stuck out of the ground.

"Got anything?" inquired Jane of Nina, who was still in BRIC. She awkwardly fumbled with the Bluetooth button in her ear that allowed her to speak freely.

"Hold on. I need a little time, Jane," it came, and the rich sound of the millimeter-sized speaker surprised her.

"We have everything but this," the detective gasped.

"Yes, yes. I've got two signals. A mile away from you."

"Where to?"

"Jane -"

"Where to, Nina?"

Nina paused before saying, "A clearing or so. Relatively due east. Are you on a path right now?"

Jane confirmed that she was. Nina told her to follow Singer's signal to the edge of the forest. Then keep to the right. The detective reached for her service weapon to make sure it was where it was supposed to be. Then the outline of the treetops came into view. If she had complained countless nights about the piercing moonlight, today she thanked God she was without her telltale flashlight.

She strode forward strained, a sudden incline slowing her down. She had calculated in her head how long it would take her to cover the distance. Ten to fifteen minutes tops. "Am I getting close?" she inquired with a bated breath.

"Definitely," Nina confirmed. "Singer's standing as still as a mouse. Which is saying nothing. So exactly -"

"Never mind," the detective retorted. Ahead of her, the trail forked; there were neither trail signs nor directional signs. Between the forks, a sort of trail led straight ahead into the denser overgrowth. Where should she go? Protectively, she raised her hand in front of her face to direct her muffled voice into the microphone. "Nina? Which way?"

"To the right."

"There's a path straight ahead. Isn't that shorter?"

"Not on my screen. Wait." There was a clacking in the background. "Yes, try it. There should be a clearing coming up and then the right path again. Should save you quite a bit."

Well then. Jane checked the fit of her weapon again before climbing into the thicket in a crouched position. She regretted it after only a few yards. Branches lay everywhere, overhanging the narrow, well-worn strip. She stumbled again and again, which was also due to the fact that the moonlight was strongly dimmed by the treetops. Again and again, it crackled, and the rusting of dry wood seemed as loud as gunshots in the silence of the forest.

Great job, Rizzoli!

Then she heard a voice.

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Frankie sat down at the counter of the Dirty Robbers while waiting for his order and watched with furled brows as his sister-in-law sat at the table laughing with her ex-lover. "Jane's not going to like this at all," he muttered.

"Ethan Connolly is a fine fellow," Korsak replied as he eyed the two as well. "Jane knows she has nothing to fear from him or she wouldn't have brought him into the case so much, besides Jane and Connolly knew each other before Maura had even been in the picture."

Frankie looked at the old man in surprise. "Honestly? She never mentioned him. What happened?"

Korsak pulled the corners of his mouth down, then picked up the tray of drinks. "Nothing happened. Jane went to Homicide and Connolly went to Cold Case. End of story. There's not always a tragedy behind a past, Frankie."

"And why did Jane act like she didn't like Connolly?"

Korsak nodded unremarkably at the blonde. "Isn't that obvious?"

Frankie looked at Maura and chuckled briefly, remembering that Maura had once been a flame of his, too. "Good point."

Korsak chuckled before the two men walked over to the table. Then he looked at them both in wonder. "Where's Jane, anyway? She's never passed up free beer before."

Connolly took a beer from the tray and gave the old man a long look. "She and Nina are tracking Axel Singer's cell phone signal."

"She's doing what?" gasped Maura, looking at Frankie and Korsak in horror.

"What? I thought you guys knew about this."

"So stubborn," Korsak growled, fishing out his cell phone.

Frankie was already on the cell phone, frowning deeply. "Jane doesn't answer her phone."

"I didn't know you didn't know about this," Connolly said shrilly, and Maura stood up with a snort. She wasn't angry that her ex hadn't said anything, but that her wife had once again planned on doing this on her own.

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Jane tasted iron under her tongue. Apparently, she had bitten down on it. She couldn't remember a hook to the chin. What had happened?

Again and again, she thought she saw a person scurrying by, but she didn't know if it was a dream or reality. A figure without the typical ears and nose tip. A person under a tight-fitting stocking mask.

Only slowly did the images arrange themselves into a painful memory. Precipitation.

"Get up!"

Jane didn't know how to accomplish this. Kneeling. With her hands behind her back and duct tape over her face. Her tongue pressed against the bitter-tasting glue. It was one of those images that haunted her in her sleep every now and then. Darkness. Pressure on her chest. And the desperate feeling of just sucking breath through a tight straw. Images of Hoyt flashed before her eyes.

"Go!"

Something hard hit her on the shoulder. That voice. Jane lifted her head. Still, the figure wore a mask. Shame rose in the detective. In front of her lay Axel Singer, whom she had thought for far too long was the moonlight killer. Apparently dead. And she wondered at that second if the other accusations ...

A hand grabbed her by the ponytail and jerked her head back. With a twinge in all her leg muscles, Jane stood. Staggered briefly, then received another jolt. With her wrist, she felt at her hip for the whereabouts of her service weapon, even though it could be of little use to her at the moment. The weapon was gone. Seconds later she felt the upper body of the masked figure. Soft breasts pressed against her back, urging her in a certain direction. Definitely a woman.

Shit.

A moment later, Jane found herself leaning against a tree trunk, her legs stretched out. She wanted to kick, but she was far too dazed to do so. Already her joints were wrapped in tape, and nimble hands snaked a few more lengths around her knees.

"You get to see everything," she murmured from under the mask, "you've earned it." The figure raised her shoulders, and it almost seemed as if she was pulling a sad face under the fabric. "I'm afraid that's the best I can do for you."

The moon had reached a high position, bathing the forest in a ghostly bright glow.

And then she perceived the woman lying motionless on a flowered blanket. No matter how hard she tried, Jane couldn't make out the face. It lay hidden behind a gnarled tree trunk. Breasts bared, skin pale. No panties. Was she unconscious or dead?

Still dazed, the detective registered a rustling sound. It came from behind the trunk, then the black body in a crouched posture entered her field of vision. Were they walking on four legs? Were they hissing?

No. Her breathing was compressed, strained, and she was walking backward. Hands dragged something heavy, probably the body of Axel Singer. He was as naked as the woman next to whom he was pulled. As the two bodies lay side by side, the figure paused.

A memory rose in Jane's mind. The hands. Next, the masked figure would interlock the two hands of the dead.

She wondered if it had been like this back when George Scully committed his murders. Maybe right here, in the same spot.

When a childish voice entered her ear, the detective listened.

"You shouldn't! Why did you hurt her?"

There was no child to be seen for miles around. Rather, the figure crouched on the man's body with clenched fists. Jane squinted her eyes.

What was she doing? Her hips quivered, but it was nothing sexual. No riding, no rubbing against the genital. Rather, a tension she was apparently trying to break free from by crying out and drumming her fists on his sternum.

"I'm scared! Alone. In the dark." A tear-stained whimper. "I didn't want to be alone! Why did you leave me alone?" Then she sank down and hugged him. "All broken ... All broken -" A soft cry, finally she chuckled contentedly. "I made everything beautiful again." With those words she reached forward, Jane stretched, but she couldn't see what exactly she was doing there. Was she grabbing Singer's face? Was she stroking him?

Slowly, the figure withdrew her hand. Paused for a few seconds, then climbed between them. Where the flowers of the blanket peeked out from under the woman. Where the hands of the two lying motionless. She grabbed them and placed them inside each other. "Daddy had to do it," she murmured, shaking her head. The voice sounded far more adult now. "You cheated on him. I never understood that. Hated him for it. But you started it. You." She pressed their hands together and gently placed them in front of her. Stroked them, at least it gave the impression because Jane could only guess at that, too. "But I forgive you. I'm not angry with you anymore." A soft giggle, then the child returned to her voice. "Everything's all right now. All right. All right." And she pulled, completely unexpected, the mask from her head and shook her hair, which shone silvery in the moonlight. She laughed maliciously and glanced briefly in Jane's direction.

The detective's breath caught in her throat. Even though she had suspected it, something inside her still didn't want to believe it.

To Jane, there was no doubt. She was going to shoot the woman, just as had happened to all the victims before. She had to intervene. Just now she had raised the gun, and the next thing she knew, the barrel would be shoved into the unconscious woman's mouth.

"Stop it!" the detective groaned. The gag hindered her. She pressed her tongue against the tape. A crack appeared, she shouted again. Were the words also washed out, the woman responded. Her upper body slowly turned in the direction of the detective. And with the upper body also the right forearm, which was bent forward. Until the muzzle pointed in Jane's direction.

If there was a trace of regret in her face, Jane didn't recognize it. Was it just because a veil had slipped in front of the moon? Panicked, Jane's gaze switched back and forth between the muzzle and the woman's eyes. She didn't want to die. Not today, not here. Not now that she finally had Maura to herself. Not now that she was about to start a family of her own with her wife.

Eyes.

Muzzle.

Eyes.

The moonlight returned. And with the realization that the woman was an ice-cold killer, in whom there was no longer a timid, childlike streak. Who didn't care if one life more or less was on her list?

What had Scully said? People are worth nothing.

Jane wanted to say something, but her tongue was paralyzed.

A prayer. She wanted a prayer ...

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Maura stood between Frankie and Korsak.

Glaring spotlights lent the woods something surreal, moths and smaller insects buzzing around in the cones of light. The undertakers had placed the body bags on the ground and were hoisting Axel Singer's body into one.

"Sorry," Korsak muttered somberly, and Maura looked at him with a deep frown. She knew what he was trying to say. They had been too late, even though he knew they couldn't be blamed for that. How many times had she pointed out to the detectives that a DNA analysis was not a matter of a few hours. That a genetic fingerprint would take far more time than a classic set of fingerprints, even if television kept suggesting otherwise.

"It's not your fault," she murmured in a strained voice.

What would the neighbors think? Would they, even if the press would report the right thing a hundred times, still think about how he had been led handcuffed out of the murder house? How they suspected him, staked out his house, and searched his property, only to find a body in his backyard at the end?

A sick soul. That's how people would remember him. That's what people would think when they walked by his tombstone. And basically, they wouldn't even be wrong. He had always been a poor soul.

"If only I had been here earlier -" Korsak swallowed hard. If. It could be one less body bag.

If he'd listened to his former partner.

If he'd called Jane, as he'd intended to do before driving to his bar.

If he had loaded her into his car when she had scurried past him in BPD.

There were just too many ifs not to feel guilty.

The glare of the lights nearly drove her out of her mind. Finally, someone else seemed to recognize the need to turn off the blue light.

"Thank you," she wanted to say, but she could barely get anything out. Feeling a plastic bottle in her hand, she took a few sips, then cleared her throat.

Jane found herself sitting at the side door of an ambulance. A large band-aid on her temple, she reportedly had a laceration at the site. She couldn't remember the blow to her head or whether she had received stitches. If she was honest with herself, she couldn't even tell how long she had been in the woods.

She could barely remember Ethan Connolly bursting out of the bushes with his service weapon. Just a second after the gunshot exploded. And just another second before Linda Marx's body jerked up, only to topple forward the next instant.

"Jane," she heard a familiar voice say from far away. She recognized Maura; it felt infinitely good to see her.

Jane nodded and tried to get up, but her knees were too wobbly.

Maura caught her and sat the detective back down, taking her in her arms and pressing her head tightly against her stomach. "What are you doing?" whispered Maura in an emotionally charged voice.

"I'm sorry," Jane whispered back, no less emotionally. And while the two of them were there like that, with so many thought-fests whirling around in her head that she had to be dizzy even without a concussion, Jane thought of only one thing. That she would never abandon her wife and child. "I'm really sorry, Maura," she said, finally looking up into hazel eyes and furrowing her brows. "Maura, I'm really sorry. I know that soon it won't be just about the two of us and ... that I ... that I can't make such a flippant decision anymore when I -" She paused when she saw the astonished faces of the three men and would have liked to slap herself when she realized that Frankie, Korsak, and Connolly had overheard the conversation. Intentionally or not, she couldn't tell. "Damn it," she growled.

Frankie cleared his throat and looked at the other two men. "We ... didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"Yeah, right," Jane muttered with a roll of her eyes, instantly regretting that decision, and Maura grinned broadly.

"Is there something you two want to share with us?" echoed Korsak. Now his curiosity was piqued as well.

Jane closed her eyes briefly. "Sorry, Maura."

Maura smiled broadly and turned to the three men, looked at them closely, and made a decision. "I'm two months pregnant."

Korsak's jaw dropped for a second before he held Maura in his arms. "Congratulations", he whispered.

Maura smiled broadly and returned the hug before it was Frankie's turn to give her a big kiss on the temple. Jane recognized his next intention and raised her index finger in warning, but that didn't stop him from giving her a careful kiss on the cheek.

Connolly hugged Maura and congratulated her before congratulating Jane with a firm handshake.

Jane took a deep breath and took Maura's hand in hers, knowing full well that this child would never feel lonely.