Jane's pants are too tight. She shifts uncomfortably in the passenger seat, trying to get comfortable. The fact that she is putting on weight is not something that she wants to be confronted with. For the entirety of her adult life, she has always been a size six. Now she can feel herself hovering on the border of an eight, and she fights against it with all her might, as if the admission that she has gone up a size is also an admission of middle age. An admission of the fact that she might be slowing down, just a little bit.
"What's wrong?" Maura asks from the driver's seat, with a glance at her wife.
"Nothing," Jane says grumpily. "It's four in the morning and my pants don't fit. Pants I shouldn't even be wearing, mind you, because, as I previously stated, it is four in the morning." Jane glances at Maura's mildly confused face. She sighs heavily. "Everything's peachy."
Maura seems to consider responding for a moment, almost deciding against it. "If you laid your clothes out the night before," she says finally, and when Jane makes a disgruntled noise, she looks like she wishes she'd kept silent.
"I've gone up a size in the past year," Jane says, hoping this confession will also serve as a peace offering. She doesn't want to bicker. She wants to go back to sleep.
"That's not irregular," Maura says carefully. "And you're still amazingly attractive."
Jane tries not to grin. Even driving, Maura doesn't miss the opportunity. "And strong," she adds with a smile. "And sexy…"
"Okay, okay," Jane says, slumping back in her seat, letting her hand wander over to take Maura's on the gear shift. "You win, doctor."
Maura smiles. "I always do."
…
They are met at the crime scene by a groggy looking Frost, holding a tray of coffees.
"My hero," Maura says, pulling one of the cups free of its holder. "What do we have?"
"It's pretty gross," Frost says. "I hate being on call."
Jane sees Maura roll her eyes over the lid of her coffee cup. "Honestly," she says. "The two of you could be twins."
They make their way towards the herd of technicians and uniforms, and as they near the body, Frost hangs back, reluctant to go any closer than he has to. Three more steps and Jane understands why.
The body lies on the concrete twisted at such an awkward position, it's as though he doesn't have any bones. Though he appears to be lying face down, both his palms face upwards, towards the sky, and Jane sees the red raw of flesh and the stark white of bone before she understands that the skin of his hands has been flayed away. Her stomach gives a nasty kick, but she is professional enough not to let it show on her face. She glances at Maura, who is looking down at the body impassively.
"Dr. Isles," the lead technician approaches them, and Jane notices that the man's techie jacket is inside out. It seems everyone has left in a hurry this morning. "We were waiting for your direction," he says, and Maura frowns slightly.
"You're all well trained in vital data collection," she says quickly. "While a bit gruesome, I don't see why this instance should necessitate my sign off."
Jane always marvels at the way her wife can switch hats so easily.
"Well, Doctor," the young man says nervously. "We usually collect information to expedite the identification, and take pictures of the face and any distinguishing features, but in this case…" he trails off, looking a little woozy.
"Go on," Maura prompts.
"The victim has no face," the technician finishes, and Jane feels another kick to her stomach that she is less successful in stifling. Maura's face does not change, but Jane's intake of breath makes her glance around for a second.
"I see," she says, turning to look at the body. The technician turns with her, but Jane does not. She doesn't want to until she has to. "No skin on the hands, and no face," Maura says, more to herself than to the technician.
"That's not all, Doctor," the man says heavily.
"Oh no?"
"He also has no feet."
This time, Jane does turn around to face the body, though only to confirm her memory. "But he's wearing shoes," she says, before Maura can speak.
"Uh, no, Detective," the technician says. "They're just…there."
Behind them, Frost gags, having overheard. Although it will not be apparent to the technician or anyone else who looks, Jane can tell that Maura looks a little unsettled as well.
"Okay," she says. "Give us a moment. I will call you in when I'm ready for transport."
The technician stands a little straighter, he looks please with himself for delivering the information in a way that his boss has found suitable. "Yes, ma'am…Doctor. Yes, Doctor." He turns and heads back towards the morgue van, and when he arrives, one of his buddies tugs the back of his jacket, indicating that it is inside out. In the glare from the temporary lights, Jane sees him turn bright red and smack himself on the forehead.
"Jane," Maura says, pulling her focus. Jane turns and sees that Maura has crouched down next to the body. She wrinkles her nose. There's something about the corpse that makes Jane want to pull the medical examiner away from it.
"No feet?" she asks, though she can't imagine why anyone would lie about that.
Maura snaps a glove into place and reaches forward to grasp one of the work boots positioned at the end of the man's legs.
"No," she says, before she has even moved her hand. She pulls back slightly, and the boot comes without protest, revealing empty, blood soaked space at the end of the pant leg. "No feet."
Behind her, she hears Frost moan quietly. "Jesus," she says.
Maura inclines her head, using one finger to hook the end of the jeans and pull back slowly. Jane looks until she feels like her coffee is going to make a return appearance. "Jesus, Maura, is that bone?" she asks, raising her eyes to look up at the night sky.
"Yes," Maura says calmly. "That normally happens when someone removes a limb." She pauses for a moment. "We're not looking for a professional. See how they hacked at the flesh before even attempting to go through the bone…In fact, I'd say we're not even looking for someone who's ever dismembered anything before."
"What makes you say that?" Jane asks, still looking up.
"Maybe not even a sociopath," Maura continues. "The number of hesitation marks suggest that this person might not have wanted to amputate the victim's feet."
"Someone was forcing them?" Jane is careful to only look at her wife's face. "Is that what you're saying?"
"No," Maura says firmly. "I'm saying that the number of hesitation marks is unusual for this level of brutality." She leans closer, and Jane has to look away again. "And the way the person who did this sawed at the bone…there are hesitation marks there too. Like he stopped, and then started again in a different place. It's rushed. Sloppy."
The note of disdain in the doctor's voice always makes Jane prickle with a mixture of pride and unease.
"Remind me never to cross you," she murmurs, and Maura, with her bat like hearing, smiles without looking around.
"An appreciation of clean and professional work is quite different than homicidal fantasies, Detective," she says, standing up and gesturing to the technicians. They hurry towards her, and Jane notices that the boy from earlier has his jacket right side out this time. He avoids eye contact with Maura.
"So there's no possible way to ID," Jane says, sighing.
"Not a forensic one, no," Maura agrees. "I can put the call in for a facial reconstruction based on the skull."
"Yeah," Jane says, turning around and waving to Frost. "How long will that take, do you think?"
"A week? Ten days, if I had to estimate."
"Can you expedite it?"
"Is there a need?"
Frost joins them as Jane purses her lips, thinking. "I don't know. I'll run it by Korsak. If it's an isolated event, and the killer just wants to get away with, like, revenge, then no. Let it take a week if no one else is in danger. But if there's a serial killer out there honing his skill…"
Maura doesn't answer, but Jane doesn't expect her to. It's speculation, and Maura does not deal in anything but facts. That has not changed.
"Well," she says, as they head back towards their cars, "Levi was right tonight. It was a pretty gruesome one."
Maura takes Jane's hand.
…
…
She parts with Maura at the entrance to the precinct, and heads towards the bullpen with Frost. He's already had a full cup of coffee, and he's well into his second, but his eyes are still heavy with exhaustion.
"What's up?" she asks, when he pauses to refill his cup from the pot by the door. "You're drinking precinct sludge. Are you sick?"
He looks at her, like he's sizing her up. "Nah," he says. "Just haven't gotten a lot of sleep lately."
"Yeah?" she asks casually. "Can't sleep?"
Frost sighs, resigning himself to something. "Alissa and I are trying," he says finally, voice low.
For a moment, Jane has no idea what he's talking about. But then, the meaning trickles into her sleep deprived brain, and she squawks loudly. Several other people in the bullpen turn to look at them.
"Shut up!" Frost says, "I'm not supposed to tell anyone…something about it being bad luck. You've got to keep your giant mouth shut."
Immediately, she wants to make a dirty joke, lighten the mood and get him to smile, but something stops her. He looks more than tired. He looks sad.
Something occurs to her. "How long has this been going on?" she asks.
"Couple months," he says, shrugging. "We're on a schedule now…I know she's getting impatient."
Jane tries to push her discomfort away. This is her best friend, and her partner. She can be supportive without sarcasm. "Couple months is nothing," she says. "It took us six to get the twins…and we had scientists scheduling our…stuff."
Frost nods absently. "We had this big fight," he says, lowering his voice even more, so that Jane has to lean in a bit to hear him. "She thinks I'm not…doing my best-" he gives her a significant look, and she feels herself go red as she catches his meaning, "because of all the long hours and midnight calls. This was yesterday. And then today…"
"We get called out," Jane finishes. She wonders, not for the first time, how many of her colleagues make their relationships work. She cannot imagine a life where her partner does not understand or share her passion for the job.
"Rough," she says, because she doesn't know what else to say.
Frost looks like she's impressed him. "Yeah," he says after a moment. "Thanks, Jay."
She shrugs and resists the urge to shove him. "Yeah. Let me know if I can do anything…you know?"
He grins again, "I will."
She sits down at her desk and rubs her hand across her face, trying to really wake up. She hates days that start with on call cases, especially when they can't get an ID right away. Her phone buzzes and unlocks it. A message from Maura pops up.
Heading home to get the kids off to the bus. I will be back in the Morgue by 9:30
Jane texts back an okay, and a bunch of exes, and Maura responds with a smiley face.
"Maura ran home to get the kids off," Jane says as Frost sits down across from her. He nods. "Korsak should be in in a couple. You gonna ask him to expedite the facial reconstruction?"
Jane presses the power button on her computer and leans back in her chair, thinking. "I don't know…did you hear what Maura said? About the hesitation marks?"
Frost nods, doing his best not to look ill. "So you think it's a one off?"
Jane nods. "I want to…unless we're looking at a newbie."
"Whatever we're looking at," Frost says, "He didn't want anyone to know his victim. He murders this guy, waits until dark and then drags him into the park, where he-" Frost takes a breath, "-chops off any identifying part of this guy. I wonder why he took the feet."
"Birthmark?" Jane ventures. "Something identifying."
They sit in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, then Jane leans forward. "Look, Barry, if you want to go home to your girlfriend, I'll understand."
Frost gives her a grateful look. "Thanks, Jane, but you know I'm not gonna bail once we catch a case."
"If we had anything more than a dismembered, unidentified man in an empty morgue, then yeah, I'd call it bailing. But as it is, we've got nothing. Maura won't be back in until 9:30, and I can take Frankie with me to canvass." She raises her eyebrows expectantly. Frost still hesitates.
"You'll score major points if you grab some flowers on the way," Jane prods. "I promise to text you the moment I know anything."
Frost rubs his hand over his hair, and then moves to stand up. "Okay," he says finally. "I guess I should. She is ovulating."
Jane gags. "No!" she says firmly, the way she would to Jo Friday. "Too much! Yelch." She picks up the stress ball from her desk and hurls it at him. He lets it hit him in the chest, his penance for crossing the line.
"My bad," he says with a chuckle. "I'll talk to your wife about it later."
"Damn straight you will," Jane responds, laughing too. "Get out of here."
"Thanks, Jane. Text me if you have anything."
"Go!"
She watches him jog from the bullpen, shaking her head.
…
…
Graves misses two check ins with his parole officer before Cal Warren puts in the call to Jane.
"Two?" she says, sitting up in her desk chair. "Seriously, two, Cal? He could be anywhere by now."
The week, which started with the late night call to a dismembered body did not improve as it wore on, and now it seems that it will close with more bad news. She is tired of coming up short everywhere, and now, to hear that Graves is in the wind makes her feel warm with anger and shame.
Cal grunts, sounding unapologetic. And why should he? It's not technically her business."I didn't get the call 'til twenty minutes ago, Rizzoli, and you're the first one on my call list. There's nothing either of us can do about it now."
"You said a week ago he was on the move. Making the usual rounds he used to during a pick up: groceries, toys, video tape. Why the hell didn't his PO up the check ins."
"The landlord said he didn't see no one but Graves in or out, Rizzoli. There was no reason to. Leary's got 25 other parolees, and most of them's fully dangerous."
Jane takes a couple of deep breaths so she only thinks most of the swear words that she wants to say.
"Did he have a travel plan?" she asks finally. She hears Cal hesitate, and she grits her teeth, ignoring the ache in her jaw from the frequency of the action. "Calvin," she growls.
"Revere," he says finally, sounding like the information is being wrenched from him against his will. "But Jane, don't go doing anything stupid. This isn't your fight. Not yet."
Jane tightens her grip on the phone. She is an adult. She should be able to resist the urge to do something just because she's been warned against it. She takes a breath.
"That sick fuck steps one foot inside of my district and he'll wish I'd killed him the first time I saw him," she growls, and she slams the phone down hard enough to make the receiver ring.
A couple of rookies standing near the door to the bullpen look over at her nervously, but she doesn't pay them any mind. It is late in the day, and she should be on her way to Noah's soccer game by now. Maura had texted a half hour ago to say she was heading to get the snacks, and pick up the girls, and hidden underneath those mundane words, she'd heard her wife's demand that she leave the office and reenter a civilian life. At least for the afternoon.
She sighs, and stands up from her desk, stretching her arms above her head. She is just about to reach for her jacket, when her phone rings again, she grabs it up hastily, assuming it is Cal Warren calling back.
"What?" she growls. "Did you make a mistake?"
There is silence on the other end, not even the sound of breathing.
"Hello?" Jane says.
"Detective Rizzoli?" The voice is small and young, like one of her children. Jane sucks in a breath, trying to calm the sandpaper edges of her voice.
"McKenzie?"
McKenzie lets out a little puff of air, like she is relieved that she's reached the right number, and that she has been recognized. "I'm sorry to…to bother you at work," she says.
Jane shakes her head. She hasn't seen McKenzie since tucking her in the morning of the murder. She hasn't been at their dinner table in four days. "No problem, kiddo, what's up?"
"Um…well…I was wondering if…I was wondering if I could, like…if…" Jane lets this stammering go on a little longer before intervening gently.
"Hey, Kenz?" she says softly, and the voice on the other end stops abruptly. "Look, Noah's got a soccer game tonight. The whole family's gonna be there. Why don't I come grab you, and we can head there. Dinner's included, of course, and if on the way, you wanna talk to me about something, or you want to talk to Maura, or just hang out with Bella and Sofia…well, all of that is fine. Okay?"
McKenzie pauses for a second before saying, "Okay."
"Okay," Jane says, reaching for her jacket again. "Do you need me to pick you up?"
"Yes, please."
"Are you at your house?"
Another pause. "No."
Jane waits, but McKenzie doesn't elaborate. "Okay," she says after a second. "I am a detective, but I'm not that good, honey. Where are you?"
McKenzie gives a street crossing, and Jane realizes that she's in Roxbury, calling from one of the last payphones in the city. She's calling from a payphone that Jane used to frequent, calling Maura from outside the YMCA near her house while she waited for her brothers to finish their games.
"I know where that is," she says softly. "You stay right by that phone, McKenzie. I'll be there in ten, okay?"
She waits for McKenzie to say okay before hanging up, and then she grabs her jacket and heads for the door.
…
McKenzie is dirty. Jane has to get out, and open the door for her, and still the girl looks unsure about Jane's motives for picking her up.
She'd texted Maura to say that she was bringing McKenzie with her to the game, but now she contemplates just taking the teenager home, offering her a shower and some of her daughter's pajamas. But she deems this idea inappropriate, as McKenzie buckles her seatbelt and leans back against the seat, shoulders falling.
"Thank you," she says, as they pull away from the curb. Jane feels like she's having an out of body experience. Like she's watching herself drive her younger self away. Like she's rescuing her shadow.
"It's good to see you," Jane says, making sure her voice is neither too loud nor too enthusiastic.
McKenzie blinks at the road in front of them. "It is?"
Jane chuckles, "Yeah," she replies, grinning when McKenzie turns to look at her. "Got used to your face at the table. I know Belle's been missing you."
McKenzie is silent for the rest of the trip, and Jane does not push her. But as they pull up next to Maura's car in the parking lot by the soccer fields, Sofia and Isabelle turn to look at the car, and McKenzie's face cracks into a giddy little smile.
"I missed her too," she says. And Jane doesn't have to urge her out of the car.
Maura covers her alarm very quickly, but Sofia is less successful. Blunt like her mother, she waits until Isabelle and McKenzie are done hugging and then touches her sister's girlfriend on the shoulder.
"You're dirty," she says honestly.
Jane rolls her eyes, pinching the back of Sofia's neck gently before moving to stand with her wife.
"Shut up, Fia," Isabelle hisses. She smiles at McKenzie and grips her hand tightly. "I don't care," she says lowly. "You're staying for dinner?"
McKenzie glances towards Jane and Maura. "If it's okay with your moms," she says quietly.
"Of course it is," Sofia says, trying to make up for her misstep earlier.
Jane puts her arm around Maura's waist, leaning to kiss just below her ear. "Hi beautiful," she murmurs.
Maura smiles. "You're late," she says, not even trying to sound stern.
Jane glances around. "Levi's MIA," she says.
Maura sighs, nodding. "He's chasing a new girl," she says. "And even though I explained to him that her genetic predisposition means that she would find his devotion to his younger brother attractive because it speaks to his suitable nature as a mate…"
Jane laughs out loud. Maura chuckles too, watching her. "It's good to see you smile, Jane Rizzoli. It has been too long."
Jane nods, scanning the soccer field for her son. "It's been a long week," she says, spotting him and waving when he looks towards the sidelines. "It's been a long week of nothing."
"I spoke to Barry this afternoon," she says.
"Oh yeah? I told him to bring his ovulation problems to you."
"He was very grateful to you for not poking fun at him."
Jane shrugs her shoulders, trying to play it off. "I was tired. I'll get him later"
Maura cannot be fooled. "You understood how important it is to him."
Out on the field, a bigger boy pushes Noah down in an attempt to get to the ball. Jane throws her hands up, yelling indistinctly, and a half second later, the whistle blows, signaling that her son's team will receive a free kick. Any of her other children, even Isabelle, would look disgruntled after being bowled over, but Noah climbs to his feet with a cheerful little grin and turns to his mom as the ref places the ball in front of him.
"Free kick!" he mouths at his mothers, pointing at the ball.
Jane gives him a thumbs up, and Maura waves. When the whistle blows , Noah takes four determined steps back and then runs up, kicking the ball with all his might.
"Goodness," Maura says, watching as players from both teams converge on the spot where Noah's ball has landed. "It does not get easier to watch them play at this age."
Jane chuckles. "Watching Isabelle was a treat, and Sofia and Levi were passable…" she trails off, watching as Noah stops by the sideline, squatting down to look at something in the grass. "Oh Lord," she sighs.
Noah straightens up, waving his hand at Maura. "Mommy look!" he calls across the field. "Yrrharctia Isabella!"
"NOAH!" the coach bellows. "Get your head in the game, you wimp!"
"HEY!" Jane yells back, pointing at the coach. "HE FOUND A ARACTICA ISABELLA. THEY'RE NINE. YOU CALL HIM ANOTHER NAME, I'LL MAKE YOU EAT THAT CLIPBOARD!"
Maura puts her hand on Jane's arm, even though a couple of the other parents nearby make sounds of agreement. "Yrrharctia Isabella," she corrects.
Jane rolls her eyes. "Which means…"
"It's one of those woolly caterpillars. The red and black ones?"
Jane shakes her head, smiling. "Your son."
"He wants to play because his siblings play," Maura says, sighing fondly. "But I will talk to him this weekend." She looks up at Jane, but Jane's attention has been diverted to McKenzie and the twins. Sofia and Isabelle are standing on either side of McKenzie, and both are holding her hand. Isabelle is closer, her head close to McKenzie's and she is speaking softly to her.
McKenzie is crying.
Maura follows Jane's line of vision, and lets out a little gasp. She starts forward, but Jane grabs her and pulls her back.
"Leave it," Jane says lowly.
Maura looks at her like she's crazy. "Its been four days," she says. "She's filthy, Jane."
Jane puts her finger to her lips, and turns Maura deliberately away from the trio. "She's here," she whispers.
She is going to say more, going to stand with her wife for the rest of the game and make a plan, but out on the field, Noah gets a break away with the soccer ball, and she watches him run towards the wrong goal, the hand with the caterpillar held carefully above his head.
Both she and Maura are distracted from the girls, waving frantically at their son to turn around and go in the opposite direction.
At the end of the game, however, they can no longer say that their youngest son is the only Rizzoli-Isles to never score a goal.
…
…
McKenzie has a night terror at 4:44am. Her scream throws Jane to her feet before she is even half awake, and Maura sits bolt upright on her side of the bed with her own cry of fear.
Jane meets a still sleeping, still screaming McKenzie in the hallway, and when she wraps her arms around her, McKenzie fights in her sleep, still screaming.
"Stop!" Jane says, tightening her hold as she wakes fully. She is afraid that the teenager will tumble, still sleeping, down the stairs, or run, unseeing, into a door. She doesn't let go.
"McKenzie, honey, stop." Jane pushes the girl's sweaty hair out of her eyes. "You're okay. You're okay."
She feels the change as McKenzie goes from asleep to awake, and she loosens her hold at once, pulling back to look into wide, sentient eyes.
"It's okay," she says again, "It was a dream."
McKenzie's chest is still heaving, but she leans against Jane, murmuring. Jane dips her head to listen.
"Not my brother," McKenzie says over and over again. "No...that's...no. Not my brother."
There's a movement in the detective's periphery, and she looks around to see Maura standing in Noah's doorway, her arm around the little boy.
"I..I'm sorry," McKenzie chokes. "I don't - I don't know…"
"Shh," Jane says, "It was a dream. It's okay."
"I-" McKenzie looks up at Jane, her eyes wide and searching. "She…" she starts, but she can't go on. Jane nods. She knows. She knows that look exactly.
She pulls back a little, and McKenzie leans forward, which is enough of an invitation for Jane to put her arms back around the girl. "You're at our house," she says, low enough that Noah and Maura can't hear, "and you're safe. No one will hurt you here."
McKenzie shudders.
"Do you know how I know?"
A head shake.
Jane gives the girl a squeeze. "Because Maura made a safe space for me, when I was your age. And she helped me make a safe space for our kids. And you. are. safe. here."
McKenzie's eyes well up with tears. "She...She's"
Jane knows. "Oh, honey," she says. "You're safe here."
McKenzie drops all of her weight against Jane's chest and starts to cry.
…
She doesn't remember falling asleep, but the next thing she knows, someone is kissing her gently on the cheek, saying her name.
Jane opens her eyes, to see Maura's face inches from hers in the dim light from the hallway. She starts to move and then realizes that she is pinned down by the dead weight of her daughter's girlfriend, still fast asleep in her arms.
"What time is it?" she whispers, rolling her shoulders, stiff and tingly from her night in the hall.
"7:15," Maura whispers back, but even in such a low voice, Jane doesn't miss her tone.
"What is it?" she asks, searching the doctor's expression. Her first thought is that McKenzie's mother has come looking for her, and her second thought is that she will be damned if that bitch sets foot in her house. But then Maura holds her phone up, so Jane can see, and she says,
"Facial reconstruction came in," and Jane is looking into a face that she recognizes. She look up at Maura, who nods solemnly in confirmation.
But even without the doctor's agreement, Jane would be sure. This face has been burned into her brain for years, has been cropping up at least hourly in the past week.
The unidentified, dismembered body in the morgue is Graves.
Graves is dead.