Freaks: A Rizzoli & Isles Short Story

Chapter Nine

Four Boston PD cruisers were parked in front of St. Anthony’s, rack lights flashing as Jane and Frost scrambled out of their car and ran toward the church.

“He’s got the boy inside,” a patrolman reported. “We have all the entrances covered, and we’ve been trying to talk him out, but he’s not cooperating.”

“Let me talk to him,” said Jane, pulling on a Kevlar vest.

“Ma’am, he’s already fired off a few rounds. That’s how we got the call, when someone in the neighborhood reported gunfire.”

“Is the boy okay?”

“He was able to answer us. Other than that, I don’t know.” The patrolman looked her up and down, as though questioning her ability to deal with the situation. “There’s a team on the way. I don’t think you should—”

“I know Rayner. I’m the one who should do this.” Jane started toward the church entrance. “Mr. Rayner!” she yelled through the door. “It’s Detective Rizzoli. I want to talk to you!”

From inside came Rayner’s shout: “Don’t bother! It won’t make a difference!”

At least he wasn’t issuing threats. “I’m opening the door now,” she announced. “I’m coming in alone.” There was no answer. She took a breath and stepped over the threshold.

It was gloomy inside, lit only by the distant flicker of a burning candle. She could not see Rayner or Lucas, but she could hear the boy’s terrified whimpers somewhere in the shadows. Bat wings flapped overhead.

“He’s crazy!” Lucas sobbed. “He broke in here while I was sleeping. Says he’s going to kill me.”

Jane’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she could see them now. Lucas sat huddled against a pew, and Rayner stood over him, his weapon pointed at the boy’s head.

“Let him go,” said Jane. “This doesn’t help anyone.”

“It’s justice,” said Rayner. “That’s worth something.”

“Is it worth your own life?”

“Someone has to pay. We both know he killed her.”

“I didn’t!” wailed Lucas. “I keep telling you that!”

Jane said, “If the boy’s guilty, let the courts prove it.”

“They won’t,” said Rayner. “You said last night there’s no proof. There’ll never be enough proof. My girl’s gone, and he’ll walk away free and clear.”

Even in the gloom, Jane could see Rayner’s arm straighten as his hand tightened around the grip. As she drew her own weapon, her cell phone rang. All three of them froze, caught on the threshold of violence. She let the phone keep ringing as she kept her gaze on Rayner.

“If Lucas killed her,” Jane said, “I swear I’ll find a way to prove it. And he will go to prison.”

She and Rayner stared at each other in the gloom. Now another phone began to ring, but this time it wasn’t hers—it was Rayner’s. Without breaking eye contact, he answered it. “Hello?” There was a long silence, then he bent down and slid the phone across the floor toward Jane. “It’s for you.”

Baffled, Jane picked it up. “Rizzoli.”

Maura answered. “Jane, I’m standing right outside. The boy didn’t do it!”

“Then who did?”

“The killer’s inside that church. With you.”