The Sinner (13 page)

“It’s a boy,” Rizzoli said, and her voice suddenly
cracked.

Maura looked up and saw that Rizzoli had paled even more, that she
was now leaning against the table, as though to steady herself.

“Do you need to step out?”

Rizzoli swallowed. “It’s just . . .”

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“These are hard to take, I know. Kids are always hard. If you
want to sit down—”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

The worst was yet to come.

Maura eased the pillowcase up over the chest, gently extending
first
one arm and then the other so they would not be snagged by the wet fabric. The
hands
were perfectly formed, tiny fingers designed to reach for a mother’s face,
to
grasp a mother’s lock of hair. Next to the face, it is the hands that are
most
recognizably human, and it was almost painful to look at them.

Maura reached inside the pillowcase to support the back of the
head
as she pulled off the last of the fabric.

Instantly, she knew something was wrong.

Her hand was cradling a skull that did not feel normal, did not
feel
human. She paused, her throat suddenly dry. With a sense of dread, she peeled
off
the fabric, and the infant’s head emerged.

Rizzoli gasped and jerked away from the table.

“Jesus,” said Frost. “What the hell happened to
it?”

Too stunned to speak, Maura could only gaze down in horror at the
skull,
gaping open, the brain exposed. At the face, folded in like a squashed rubber
mask.

A metal tray suddenly toppled and crashed.

Maura looked up just in time to see Jane Rizzoli, her face drained
white, slowly crumple to the floor.

T
EN

“I
DON
’
T WANT TO GO
to the
ER”

Maura wiped away the last of the blood and frowned at the
inch-long
laceration on Rizzoli’s forehead. “I’m not a plastic surgeon. I
can
stitch this up, but I can’t guarantee there won’t be a scar.”

“Just do it, okay? I don’t want to sit for hours in some
hospital waiting room. They’d probably just sic a medical student on me,
anyway.”

Maura wiped the skin with Betadine, then reached for a vial of
Xylocaine
and a syringe. “I’m going to numb your skin first. It’ll sting a
little
bit, but after that, you shouldn’t feel a thing.”

Rizzoli lay perfectly still on the couch, her eyes focused on the
ceiling.
Though she didn’t flinch as the needle pierced her skin, she closed her
hand
into a fist and kept it tightly balled as the local anesthetic was injected. Not
a word of complaint, not a whimper escaped her lips. Already she’d been
humiliated
by the fall in the lab. Humiliated even further when she’d been too dizzy
to
walk, and Frost had carried her like a bride into Maura’s office. Now she
lay
with her jaw squared, grimly determined not to show any weakness.

As Maura pierced the edges of the laceration with the curved
suture
needle, Rizzoli asked, in a perfectly calm voice: “Are you going to tell me
what happened to that baby?”

“Nothing happened to it.”

“It’s not exactly normal. Jesus, it’s missing half
its
head.”

“It was born that way,” Maura said, snipping off suture
and
tying a knot. Sewing skin was like stitching a living fabric, and she was simply
a tailor, bringing the edges together, knotting the thread. “The baby is
anencephalic.”

“What does that mean?”

“Its brain never developed.”

“There’s more wrong with it than just a missing brain.
It
looked like the whole top of his head was chopped off.” Rizzoli swallowed.
“And
the face . . .”

“It’s all part of the same birth defect. The brain
develops
from a sheath of cells called the neural tube. If the top of the tube fails to
close
the way it’s supposed to, the baby will be born missing a major part of the
brain, the skull, even the scalp. That’s what
anencephalic
means.
Without
a head.”

“You ever seen one like that before?”

“Only in a medical museum. But it’s not that rare. It
happens
in about one in a thousand births.”

“Why?”

“No one knows.”

“Then it could—it could happen to any baby?”

“That’s right.” Maura tied off the last stitch and
snipped
the excess suture. “This child was born gravely malformed. If it
wasn’t
already dead at birth, then it almost certainly died soon after.”

“So Camille didn’t drown it.”

“I’ll check the kidneys for diatoms. That would tell us
if
the child died by drowning. But I don’t think this is a case of
infanticide.
I think the baby died a natural death.”

“Thank god,” Rizzoli said softly. “If that thing
had
lived . . .”

“It wouldn’t have.” Maura finished taping a bandage
to the wound and stripped off her gloves. “All done, Detective. The
stitches
need to come out in five days. You can drop by here and I’ll snip them for
you.
But I still think you need to see a doctor.”

“You
are
a doctor.”

“I work on dead people. Remember?”

“You just sewed me up fine.”

“I’m not talking about putting in a few stitches.
I’m
concerned about what else is going on.”

“What do you mean?”

Maura leaned forward, her gaze tight on Rizzoli’s. “You
fainted,
remember?”

“I didn’t eat lunch. And that thing—the
baby—it
shocked me.”

“It shocked us all. But you’re the one who keeled
over.”

“I’ve just never seen anything like it.”

“Jane, you’ve seen all sorts of terrible things in that
autopsy
room. We’ve seen them together, smelled them together. You’ve always
had
a strong stomach. The boy cops, I have to keep an eye on them, because
they’ll
drop like rocks. But you’ve always managed to hang in there. Until
now.”

“Maybe I’m not as tough as you thought.”

“No, I think there’s something wrong. Isn’t
there?”

“Like what?”

“You got light-headed a few days ago.”

Rizzoli shrugged. “I’ve gotta start eating
breakfast.”

“Why haven’t you? Is it nausea? And I’ve noticed
you’re
in the bathroom practically every ten minutes. You went in there twice, just
while
I was setting up the lab.”

“What the hell is this, anyway? An interrogation?”

“You need to see a doctor. You need a complete physical and a
blood count to rule out anemia, at the very least.”

“I just need to get some fresh air.” Rizzoli sat up,
then
quickly dropped her head in her hands. “God, this is some friggin’
headache.”

“You whacked your head pretty hard on the floor.”

“It’s been whacked before.”

“But I’m more concerned about why you fainted. Why
you’ve
been so tired.”

Rizzoli lifted her head and looked at her. In that instant, Maura
had
her answer. She had already suspected it, and now she saw it confirmed in the
other
woman’s eyes.

“My life is
so
fucked up,” Rizzoli whispered.

The tears startled Maura. She had never seen Rizzoli cry, had
thought
this woman was too strong, too stubborn, to ever break down, yet tears were now
trickling
down her cheeks, and Maura was so taken aback she could only watch in silence.

The knock on the door startled them both.

Frost stuck his head into the office. “How’re we doing
in
here . . .” His voice trailed off when he saw his partner’s damp face.
“Hey. Hey, are you okay?”

Rizzoli gave an angry swipe at her tears. “I’m
fine.”

“What’s going on?”

“I said I’m
fine
!”

“Detective Frost,” said Maura, “We need time alone.
Could you give us some privacy, please?”

Frost flushed. “Sorry,” he murmured, and withdrew,
softly
closing the door.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at him,” said Rizzoli.
“But
sometimes, he’s so goddamn dense.”

“He’s just concerned about you.”

“Yeah, I know. I know. At least he’s one of the good
guys.”
Her voice broke. Fighting not to cry, she balled her hands into fists, but the
tears
came anyway, and then the sobs. Choked, embarrassed sobs that she could not hold
back. It disturbed Maura to witness the disintegration of a woman whose strength
had always impressed her. If Jane Rizzoli could fall apart, then anyone could.

Rizzoli suddenly slapped her fists on her knees and took a few
deep
breaths. When at last she raised her head, the tears were still there, but pride
had set her face in a rigid mask.

“It’s the goddamn hormones. They’re screwing around
with my head.”

“How long have you known?”

“I don’t know. A while, I guess. I finally did a home
pregnancy
test this morning. But I’ve sort of known for weeks. I could feel the
difference.
And I didn’t get my period.”

“How late are you?”

Rizzoli shrugged. “At least a month.”

Maura leaned back in her chair. Now that Rizzoli had her emotions
under
control, Maura could retreat into her role of clinician. The cool-headed doctor,
ready with practical advice. “You have plenty of time to decide.”

Rizzoli gave a snort and wiped her hand across her face.
“There’s
nothing to decide.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I can’t have it. You know I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Rizzoli gave her a look reserved for imbeciles. “What would I
do with a baby?”

“What everyone else does.”

“Can you see me being a mother?” Rizzoli laughed.
“I’d
be lousy at it. The kid wouldn’t survive a month in my care.”

“Children are amazingly resilient.”

“Yeah, well, I’m no good with them.”

“You were very good with that little girl Noni.”

“Right.”

“You were, Jane. And she responded to you. She ignored me,
and
she shrinks from her own mother. But you two were like instant pals.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m the mommy type. Babies freak
me
out. I don’t know what to do with ’em, except to hand ’em over to
someone else, quick.” She released a sharp breath, as though that was that.
Issue settled. “I can’t do it. I just can’t.” She rose from
the
chair and crossed to the door.

“Have you told Agent Dean?”

Rizzoli halted, her hand on the knob.

“Jane?”

“No, I haven’t told him.”

“Why not?”

“It’s kind of hard to have a conversation when we hardly
see each other.”

“Washington’s not the other end of the earth. It’s
even
in the same time zone. You could try picking up the phone. He’d want to
know.”

“Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe it’s just one of those
complications
he’d rather not hear about.”

Maura sighed. “Okay, I admit it, I don’t know him very
well.
But in the short time we all worked together, he struck me as someone who takes
his
responsibilities seriously.”

“Responsibilities?” Rizzoli finally turned and looked at
her. “Oh, right. That’s what I am. That’s what this baby is. And
he’s
just enough of a Boy Scout to do his
duty
.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“But you’re absolutely right. Gabriel
would
do his
duty. Well, to hell with that. I don’t want to be some man’s problem,
some
man’s responsibility. Besides, it’s not his decision. It’s mine.
I’m
the one who’d have to raise it.”

“You haven’t even given him a chance.”

“A chance to what? Get down on his knee and propose to
me?”
Rizzoli laughed.

“Why is that so far-fetched? I’ve seen you two together.
I’ve seen how he looks at you. There’s more going on than just a
one-night
stand.”

“Yeah. It was a two-week stand.”

“That’s all it was to you?”

“What else could we manage? He’s in Washington and
I’m
here.” She shook her head in amazement. “Jesus, I can’t believe I
got caught. This is only supposed to happen to dumb chicks.” She stopped.
Laughed.
“Right. So what does that make me?”

“Definitely not dumb.”

“Unlucky. And too goddamn fertile.”

“When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“Last week. He called me.”

“You didn’t think to tell him then?”

“I wasn’t sure then.”

“But you are now.”

“And I’m still not going to tell him. I have to choose
what’s
right for me, not for anyone else.”

“What are you afraid he’ll say?”

“That he’ll talk me into screwing up my life. That
he’ll
tell me to keep it.”

“Is that really what you’re afraid of? Or are you more
afraid
that he won’t want it? That he’ll reject you before you get the chance
to reject him?”

Rizzoli looked at Maura. “You know what, Doc?”

“What?”

“Sometimes, you don’t know what the hell you’re
talking
about.”

And sometimes, thought Maura as she watched Rizzoli walk out of
the
office, I hit the bull’s-eye.

Rizzoli and Frost sat in the car, the heater blowing cold air,
snowflakes
fluttering onto the windshield. The gray skies matched her mood. She sat
shivering
in the claustrophobic gloom of the car, and every snowflake that fell on the
window
was another opaque chip cutting off her view. Closing her in, burying her.

Frost said, “You feeling better?”

“Got a headache. That’s all.”

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you to the
ER?”

“I just need to pick up some Tylenol.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He put the car into gear, then changed his
mind and shifted back into park. He looked at her. “Rizzoli?”

“What?”

“You ever want to talk about anything—anything at all, I
don’t mind listening.”

She didn’t respond, just turned her gaze to the windshield.
To
the snowflakes forming a white filigree on the glass.

“We’ve been together what, two years now? Seems to me,
you
don’t tell me a lot about what’s going on in your life,” he said.
“I think I probably talk your ear off about me and Alice. Every fight we
have,
you hear about it, whether you want to or not. You never tell me to shut up, so
I
figure you don’t mind. But you know, I just realized something. You do a
lot
of listening, but you hardly ever talk about yourself.”

“There’s nothing much to say.”

He thought this over for a moment. Then he said, sounding almost
embarrassed:
“I’ve never seen you cry before.”

She shrugged. “Okay. Now you have.”

“Look, we haven’t always gotten along great—”

“You don’t think so?”

Frost flushed, as he always did when caught in an awkward moment.
The
guy had a face like a stoplight, turning red at the first hint of embarrassment.
“What I mean is, we’re not, like,
buddies.
”

“What, you want to be buddies now?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay, we’re buddies,” she said brusquely.
“Come
on, let’s get going.”

“Rizzoli?”

“What?”

“I’m here, okay? That’s all I want you to
know.”

She blinked, and turned to her side window, so he wouldn’t
see
the effect his words had on her. For the second time in an hour, she felt tears
coming.
Goddamn hormones. She didn’t know why Frost’s words should make her
cry.
Maybe it was just the fact he was showing such kindness to her. In truth, he had
always been kind to her, but she was exquisitely sensitive to it now, and a
small
part of her wished that Frost was as thick as a plank and unaware of her
turmoil.
His words made her feel vulnerable and exposed, and that was not the way she
wanted
to be regarded. It was not the way you earned a partner’s respect.