“In Wyoming, I believe.”
“Yes.”
“Where you had something of a traumatic experience. You were assaulted by a rogue police officer.”
Aguilar shot to her feet. “Objection! Not relevant!”
“Overruled,” the judge said.
Whaley smiled, his path now cleared to ask the questions that Maura dreaded. “Is that correct, Dr. Isles?” Whaley asked. “Were you attacked by a police officer?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I’m afraid I didn’t hear that.”
“Yes,” she repeated, louder.
“And how did you survive that attack?”
The room was dead silent, waiting for her story. A story she didn’t even want to think about, because it still gave her nightmares. She remembered the lonely hilltop in Wyoming. She remembered the thud of the deputy’s vehicle door as it closed, trapping her in the backseat behind the prisoner gate. She remembered her panic as she’d futilely battered her hands against the window, trying to escape from a man she knew was about to kill her.
“Dr. Isles, how did you survive? Who came to your aid?”
She swallowed. “A boy.”
“Julian Perkins, age sixteen, I believe. A young man who shot and killed that police officer.”
“He had no choice!”
Whaley cocked his head. “You’re defending a boy who killed a cop?”
“A bad cop!”
“And then you came home to Boston. And declared Mr. Dixon’s death a homicide.”
“Because it was.”
“Or was it merely a tragic accident? The unavoidable consequence after a violent prisoner fights back and has to be subdued?”
“You saw the morgue photos. The police used far more force than was necessary.”
“So did that boy in Wyoming, Julian Perkins. He shot and killed a sheriff’s deputy. Do you consider that justifiable force?”
“Objection,” said Aguilar. “Dr. Isles isn’t the one on trial here.”
Whaley barreled ahead with the next question, his gaze fixed on Maura. “What happened out there in Wyoming, Dr. Isles? While you were fighting for your life, was there an epiphany? A sudden realization that cops are the enemy?”
“Objection!”
“Or have cops always been the enemy? Members of your own family seem to think so.”
The gavel banged down. “Mr. Whaley, you will approach the bench now.”
Maura sat stunned as both attorneys huddled with the judge. So it had come to this, the dredging up of her family. Every cop in Boston probably knew about her mother, Amalthea, now serving a life sentence in a women’s prison in Framingham. The monster who gave birth to me, she thought. Everyone who looks at me must wonder if the same evil has seeped into my blood as well. She saw that the defendant, Officer Graff, was staring at her. Their gazes locked, and a smile curled his lips. Welcome to the consequences, she read in his eyes. This is what happens when you betray the thin blue line.
“The court will take a recess,” the judge announced. “We’ll resume at two this afternoon.”
As the jury filed out, Maura sagged back against the chair and didn’t notice that Aguilar was standing beside her.
“That was dirty pool,” said Aguilar. “It should never have been allowed.”
“He made it all about me,” said Maura.
“Yeah, well, that’s all he has. Because the autopsy photos are pretty damn convincing.” Aguilar looked hard at her. “Is there anything else I should know about you, Dr. Isles?”
“Other than the fact that my mother’s a convicted murderer and I torture kittens for fun?”
“I’m not laughing.”
“You said it earlier. I’m not the one on trial.”
“No, but they’ll try to make it about you. Whether you hate cops. Whether you have a hidden agenda. We could lose this case if that jury thinks you’re not on the level. So tell me if there’s anything else they might bring up. Any secrets that you haven’t mentioned to me.”
Maura considered the private embarrassments that she guarded. The illicit affair that she’d just ended. Her family’s history of violence. “Everyone has secrets,” she said. “Mine aren’t relevant.”
“Let’s hope not,” said Aguilar.
RIZZOLI & ISLES
“We Don’t Need Another Hero”
Written By Janet Tamaro
Directed By Michael Zinberg
All rights reserved. ©2011 Warner Horizon Television Inc. This script is the property of Horizon Scripted Television Inc. No portion of this script may be performed, reproduced or used by any means, or disclosed to, quoted or published in any medium without the prior written consent of Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.
INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - HALLWAY OUTSIDE APT. -NIGHT 1 6
TIGHT ON Maura as she KNOCKS.
DOOR IS FLUNG OPEN TO REVEAL -
JANE RIZZOLI. It’s been three months since she nearly died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. She’s in sweats and T-shirt she’s had on for days, eats chocolate cereal. Maura steps past her.
MAURA
You look terrible.
JANE
Thank you.
Jane’s living room gives away what she’s been doing: nothing. Well, watching TV, surfing the Web. Dead flower arrangements, dead fruit baskets, deflated “Get Well!” balloons and cards. BOXES of shit from shopping channels.
MAURA
You’re making everybody late.
JANE
Even you would look terrible if a bullet had gone through you.
MAURA
Hmmm … laceration to your peritoneum and small bowel could explain your jaundiced color -
JANE
Hey — you may not casually discuss my privates, okay?
MAURA
“Casual” is occurring by chance, showing little interest or concern -
Maura is so distressed by the mess, she starts cleaning.
MAURA (CONT’D)
Three months … Jane, you could have read all of Shakespeare! Learned Finnish. (looks at an opened box) You’re a platinum member of the shopping channel.
JANE
I swear I’ll kick you out if you don’t stop cleaning.
MAURA
Is that why you banned your mother?
JANE
She told you that? She also tell you all her OCD banging and clanking isn’t restful? Wait, Finnish? Finland Finnish?
MAURA
The stress hormone, cortisol, suppresses your immune cells’ ability to activate telomerase.
JANE
So you say. Mine are fine.
MAURA
Quite simply, keeping your brain busy aids recovery. Mind-body -
JANE
Mind-business.
As Maura tries to lead Jane toward the bedroom -
MAURA
You are my business. C’mon.
JANE (clutching her side)
Ow! Stop! I’m not going.
MAURA
Still having pain?
JANE
No. I just like saying “ow.”
MAURA
Could be from an intermittent obstruction due to adhesions. When was your last bowel movement?
JANE
You just cannot control yourself, can you?
MAURA
I think you’re avoiding –
Maura stops short: there’s a DUMMY hanging from the ceiling.
MAURA (CONT’D)—
What is that?
JANE
Get Well gift from Korsak and Frost.
MAURA
That’s “restful?” Where’s your uniform?
Maura goes into her bedroom. We hear her rummaging around.
MAURA (O.S.) (CONT’D)
It’s disgusting in here …
Maura emerges with the uniform in a dry cleaning bag.
MAURA (CONT’D)
Put it on.
JANE
It makes me look
like a man.
MAURA
We can do this the easy way or the hard way.
JANE
I am not a hero, Maura. Shooting yourself is not heroic.
Maura leaves tough love behind, takes her friend’s hand.
MAURA
The people of Boston think it is.
JANE
Eight People died, Maura. I don’t want a medal for that.
MAURA
Five of them were bad guys, Jane.
JANE
They’re giving a kid who saved a squirrel a medal. That’s more heroic.
MAURA
Cat. From a burning house.
JANE
Whatever.
MAURA
This ceremony isn’t for you. It’s for your fellow officers, your parents, the community. You’re a symbol, a heroic flesh and blood reminder of the Thin Blue Line.
JANE
Wow, that’s good. Almost had me.
MAURA
Okay. Hard way.
About the Author
Tess Gerritsen is a physician and an internationally bestselling author. She gained nationwide acclaim for her first novel of suspense, the New York Times bestseller Harvest. She is also the author of the bestsellers Ice Cold, The Keepsake, The Bone Garden, The Mephisto Club, Vanish, Body Double, The Sinner, The Apprentice, The Surgeon, Life Support, Bloodstream, and Gravity. Tess Gerritsen lives in Maine.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Tess Gerritsen, Freaks
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