She did not hear Joyce O’Donnell take her last breath.

A hand grasped her shoulder. In sudden panic she flailed, fighting for her life, swinging blindly at her attacker.

“Maura, stop. Maura!”

Her hands now trapped in his, she managed only a few weak struggles. Then her vision cleared and she saw Sansone staring at her. She heard other voices and glimpsed the metallic sheen of a stretcher. Turning, she focused on two paramedics who were crouched over Joyce O’Donnell’s body.

“I’m not getting a pulse. No respirations.”

“This IV’s wide open.”

“Jesus, look at all the blood.”

“How’s the other lady doing?” The paramedic looked at Maura.

Sansone said, “She seems okay. I think she just fainted.”

“No,” whispered Maura. She grabbed his arm. “He was here.”

“What?”

“He was still here. In the room!”

Suddenly he realized what she was saying, and he reared back with a look of shock and scrambled to his feet.

“No-wait for the police!”

But Sansone was already out the door.

She struggled to sit up and swayed, her vision watery and threatening to go gray. When at last the room brightened, she saw two paramedics kneeling in Joyce O’Donnell’s blood, their equipment and discarded packaging splayed out around them. An EKG traced across the oscilloscope.

It was a flat line.

Jane slid into the backseat of the cruiser beside Maura and pulled the door shut. That one brief whoosh of cold air swept all the heat from the vehicle and Maura began to shake again.

“You sure you’re feeling okay?” said Jane. “Maybe we should take you to the ER.”

“I want to go home,” said Maura. “Can’t I go home now?”

“Is there anything else you remember? Any other details that are coming back to you?”

“I told you, I didn’t see a face.”

“Just his black clothes.”

“Black something.”

“Something? Are we talking man or beast here?”

“It all happened so fast.”

“Anthony Sansone’s wearing black.”

“It wasn’t him. He left the room. He went down to meet the ambulance.”

“Yeah, that’s what he says, too.”

Jane’s face was silhouetted against the lights of the cruisers parked across the street. The usual convoy of official vehicles had arrived, and crime-scene tape now fluttered between stakes planted in the front yard. Maura had sat in this vehicle for so long, the blood on her coat had dried, turning the fabric stiff as parchment. She would have to throw out this coat; she never wanted to wear it again.

She looked at the house, where all the lights were now blazing. “The doors were locked when we got here. How did he get in?”

“There’s no sign of forced entry. Just that broken kitchen window.”

“We had to break it. We saw blood in the sink.”

“And Sansone was with you the whole time?”

“We were together all evening, Jane.”

“Except when he gave chase. He claims he didn’t see anyone outside. And he churned up the snow pretty good when he went searching around outside the house. Screwed up any shoe prints we might have been able to use.”

“He’s not a suspect in this.”

“I’m not saying he is.”

Maura paused, suddenly thinking of something Jane had just told her. No sign of forced entry. “Joyce O’Donnell let him in.” She looked at Jane. “She let the killer into her own house.”

“Or she forgot to lock the door.”

“Of course she’d lock her door. She wasn’t stupid.”

“She didn’t exactly play it safe, either. When you work with monsters, you never know which one will follow you home. These killings have always been about her, Doc. With the very first kill, he draws her attention by calling her. The second kill is right outside the home where she’s having dinner. It was all leading up to this. To the main event.”

“Why would she let him into her home?”

“Maybe because she thought she could control him. Think about how many prisons she’s walked into, how many people like Warren Hoyt and Amalthea Lank she’s interviewed. She gets up close and personal with them all.”

At the mention of her mother, Maura flinched but said nothing.

“She’s like one of those circus lion tamers. You work with the animals every day, and you start to think you’re the one in control. You expect that every time you crack the whip, they’ll jump like good little kitties. Maybe you even think they love you. Then one day you turn your back, and they’re sinking their teeth in your neck.”

“I know you never liked her,” said Maura. “But if you’d been there-if you’d watched her die”-she looked at Jane-“she was terrified.”

“Just because she’s dead, I’m not going to start liking her. She’s a victim now, so I owe her my best effort. But I can’t help feeling that she brought this on herself.”

There was a rap on the glass and Jane rolled down the window. A cop peered in at them and said, “Mr. Sansone wants to know if you’re done questioning him.”

“No, we’re not. Tell him to wait.”

“And the ME’s packing up. You got any last questions?”

“I’ll call him if I do.”

Through the window, Maura saw her colleague, Dr. Abe Bristol, emerge from the house. Abe would be doing O’Donnell’s autopsy. If what he’d just seen inside had upset him, he did not show it. He paused on the porch, calmly buttoning his coat and pulling on warm gloves as he chatted with a cop. Abe didn’t have to watch her die, thought Maura. He isn’t wearing her blood on his coat.

Jane pushed open the car door, and a fresh blast of cold air whooshed in. “C’mon, Doc,” she said, climbing out. “We’ll get you home.”

“My car’s still parked on Beacon Hill.”

“You can worry about your car later. I’ve got you a ride.” Jane turned and called out, “Father Brophy, She’s ready to leave.”

Only then did Maura notice him, standing in the shadows across the street. He walked toward them, a tall silhouette whose face took on flickering features only as he moved into the cruisers’ dancing lights. “Are you sure you’re feeling well enough?” he asked as he helped her out of the car. “You don’t want to go to the hospital?”

“Please, just drive me home.”

Although he offered his arm for support, she didn’t take it, but kept her hands in her pockets as they walked to his car. She could feel the gazes of police officers watching them. There go Dr. Isles and that priest, together again. Was there anyone who hadn’t noticed, hadn’t wondered about them?

There’s not a damn thing worth wondering about.

She slid into his front seat and stared straight ahead as he started the engine. “Thank you,” she said.

“You know I’d do this for you in a heartbeat.”

“Did Jane call you?”

“I’m glad she did. You need a friend to drive you home tonight. Not some cop you hardly know.” He pulled away from the curb and the garish lights of emergency vehicles faded behind them. “You came too close tonight,” he said softly.

“Believe me, I wasn’t trying to.”

“You shouldn’t have gone into that house. You should have called the police.”

“Can we not talk about it?”

“Is there anything we can still talk about, Maura? Or is this how it’s going to be from now on? You won’t visit me, you won’t answer my calls?”

She finally looked at him. “I’m not getting younger, Daniel. I’m forty-one, my only marriage was a spectacular disaster, and I have a knack for getting into hopeless affairs. I want to be married. I want to be happy. I can’t afford to waste time on relationships that go nowhere.”

“Even if the friendship, the feelings, are real?”

“Friendships are broken all the time. So are hearts.”

“Yes,” he said, and sighed. “That’s true.” They drove for a moment in silence. Then he said, “I never meant to break your heart.”

“You haven’t.”

“But I have hurt you. I know that.”