“I told Frost about it,” said Jane.
Maura said nothing, just kept her gaze focused straight ahead.
“He needed to know. He’s already spoken to Father Brophy.”
“You should have let me talk to Daniel first.”
“Why?”
“So he wouldn’t be completely taken by surprise.”
“That we know about you two?”
“Don’t sound so damn judgmental.”
“I wasn’t aware that I did.”
“I can hear it in your voice. I don’t need this.”
“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t hear what Frost had to say about it.”
“You think this doesn’t happen all the time? People fall in love, Jane. They make mistakes.”
“But not you!” Jane sounded almost angry, betrayed. “I always thought you were smarter than this.”
“No one’s that smart.”
“This can’t go anywhere and you know it. If you ever expect him to marry you-”
“I’ve already tried marriage, remember? That was a rousing success.”
“And what do you think you’re going to get out of this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I do. First there’ll be all the whispers. Your neighbors wondering why that priest’s car is always parked outside your house. Then you’ll have to sneak out of town just to spend time with each other. But eventually, someone’s going to see you two together. And then the gossip starts. It’ll just get more and more awkward. Embarrassing. How long are you going to be able to keep that up? How long before he’s forced to make a choice?”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“You think he’ll choose you?”
“Cut it out, Jane.”
“Well, do you?” The question was unnecessarily brutal, and for a moment Maura considered getting out at the next town, calling for a rental car, and driving home by herself.
“I’m old enough to make my own choices,” she said.
“But what’s his choice going to be?”
Maura turned her head to stare out the window at snowy fields, at toppling fence posts half-buried in drifts. If he doesn’t choose me, will I really be all that surprised? He can tell me again and again how much he loves me. But will he ever leave his church for me?
Jane sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s my life, not yours.”
“Yeah, you’re right. It’s your life.” Jane shook her head and laughed. “Man, the whole world’s gone totally bonkers. I can’t count on anything anymore. Not a single goddamn thing.” She drove for a moment in silence, squinting at the setting sun. “I didn’t tell you about my own wonderful news.”
“What news?”
“My parents have split up.”
At last Maura looked at her. “When did this happen?”
“Right after Christmas. Thirty-seven years of marriage, and my dad suddenly goes sniffing after some blondie from work.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Then this thing with you and Brophy-it’s like everyone’s gone sex crazy. You. My idiot dad. Even my mom.” She paused. “Vince Korsak asked her out on a date. That’s how weird everything’s gotten.” Suddenly Jane gave a groan. “Oh, Christ. I just thought about it. Do you realize that he could end up being my stepdad?”
“The world hasn’t gone that crazy.”
“It could happen.” Jane shuddered. “It gives me the creeps just thinking about the two of them.”
“Then don’t think about it.”
Jane gritted her teeth. “I’m trying not to.”
And I’ll try not to think of Daniel.
But as they continued driving west toward the setting sun, through the city of Springfield and into the rolling Berkshire Hills, all she could think about was him. She breathed in and could still smell his scent, crossed her arms and could still feel his touch, as though the memories were engraved on her skin. And she wondered: Is it the same for you, Daniel? When you stood before your congregation this morning and looked around at the faces watching you, waiting for your words, was it my face you sought, my face you thought about?
By the time they crossed the state line into New York, night had fallen. Her cell phone rang, and in the dark car it took her a moment to find it among the jumbled contents of her purse. “Dr. Isles,” she answered.
“Maura, it’s me.”
At the sound of Daniel’s voice, she felt her cheeks flame and was glad that darkness masked her face from Jane’s gaze.
“Detective Frost came to see me,” he said.
“I had to tell them.”
“Of course you had to. But I wish you’d called me about it. You should have told me.”
“I’m sorry. It must have been so embarrassing, to hear it from him first.”
“No, I mean about the writing on your door. I had no idea. I would have been there for you in an instant. You shouldn’t have had to face that alone.”
She paused, acutely aware that Jane was listening to every word. And would no doubt express her disapproval the instant the call ended.
“I went by your house a little while ago,” he said. “I was hoping to find you at home.”
“I’m going to be away tonight.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the car with Jane. We just passed through Albany a while ago.”
“You’re in New York? Why?”
“They’ve found another victim. We think…” Jane’s hand suddenly closed around Maura’s arm, an unmistakable warning that the less revealed, the better. Jane didn’t trust him anymore, now that he’d proven himself to be all too human. “I can’t talk about it,” she said.
There was a silence on the line. Then, a quiet “I understand.”
“There are details we have to keep confidential.”
“You don’t need to explain. I know how it works.”
“Can I call you back later?” When there isn’t another pair of ears listening.
“You don’t have to, Maura.”
“I want to.” I need to.
She hung up and stared at a night pierced only by the beams of their headlights. They had left the turnpike behind them, and their route now took them southwest, on a road that cut through snow-covered fields. Here, the only lights they saw came from the occasional passing car or the glow of a distant farmhouse.
“You’re not going to talk to him about the case, are you?” asked Jane.
“Even if I did, he’s perfectly discreet. I’ve always trusted him.”
“Well, so did I.”
“Meaning you don’t anymore?”
“You’re in lust, Doc. That’s not the best time to trust your judgment.”
“We both know this man.”
“And I never thought-”
“What, that he’d sleep with me?”
“I’m just saying, you may think you know someone. And then they surprise you. They do something you never expected, and you realize you’re in the dark about everyone. Everyone. If you told me a few months ago that my dad would leave my mom for some bimbo, I’d have said you were nuts. I’m telling you, people are a goddamn mystery. Even the people we love.”
“And now you don’t trust Daniel.”
“Not when it comes to that vow of chastity.”
“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about this investigation. About telling him details that concern both of us.”
“He’s not a cop. He doesn’t have to hear a thing.”
“He was with me last night. The writing on my door was directed at him, too.”
“You mean, I have sinned?”
Heat flooded Maura’s face. “Yes,” she said.
For a moment they drove without speaking. The only sounds were the tires on the road, the hiss of the car heater.
“I respected Brophy, okay?” said Jane. “He’s been good to Boston PD. When we need a priest on the scene, he comes right over, any time of night. I liked him.”
“Then why have you turned against him?”
Jane looked at her. “Because I happen to like you, too.”
“You certainly don’t give me that impression.”
“Yeah? Well, when you do something unexpected like this, something so self-destructive, it makes me wonder.”
“What?”
“If I really know you, either.”
It was after eight when they finally pulled into the parking lot of Lourdes Hospital in Binghamton. Maura was not inclined to make small talk as she stepped out of the car, her muscles stiff from the long journey. They had stopped only briefly for a silent dinner at a rest stop McDonald’s, and her stomach was unsettled by Jane’s driving, by the hastily devoured meal, but most of all by the tension between them, now spun so tight that one more twist could snap it. She has no right to judge me, Maura thought as they trudged past drifts of plowed snow. Jane was married and happy and so fucking morally superior. What did she know about Maura’s life, about the nights she spent alone watching old movies or playing the piano to an empty house? The gap between their lives yawned too wide to be bridged by real friendship. And what do I have in common, anyway, with this blunt and uncompromising bitch? Not a thing.