head. “None of this makes sense.”
“You have a very public job. You testify at homicide trials. You’re in the newspaper. You’re our Queen of the Dead.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“It’s what all the cops call you. What the press calls you. You know that, don’t you?”
“It doesn’t mean I like that nickname. In fact, I can’t stand it.”
“But it does mean you’re noticed. Not just because of what you do, but also because of the way you look. You know the guys notice you, don’t you? You’d have to be blind not to see it. Nice-looking woman always gets their attention. Right, Frost?”
Frost gave a start, obviously not expecting to be put on the spot, and his cheeks reddened. Poor Frost, so easily caught in a blush. “It’s only human nature,” he admitted.
Maura looked at Father Brophy, who did not return her gaze. She wondered if he, too, was subject to the same laws of attraction. She wanted to think so; she wanted to believe that Daniel was not immune to the same thoughts that went through her head.
“Nice-looking woman in the public eye,” said Rizzoli. “Gets stalked, attacked in front of her own residence. It’s happened before. What was the name of that actress out in L.A.? The one who got murdered.”
“Rebecca Schaefer,” said Frost.
“Right. And then there’s the Lori Hwang case here. You remember her, Doc.”
Yes, Maura remembered it, because she had performed the autopsy on the Channel Six newscaster. Lori Hwang had been on the air only a year when she was shot to death in front of the studio. She’d never realized she was being stalked. The perp had been watching her on TV and had written a few fan letters. And then one day he had waited outside the studio doors. As Lori had stepped out and walked toward her car, he had fired a bullet into her head.
“That’s the hazard of living in the public eye,” said Rizzoli. “You never know who’s watching you on all those TV screens. You never know who’s in the car right behind yours when you drive home from work at night. It’s not something we even think about—that someone might be following us. Fantasizing about us.” Rizzoli paused. Said, quietly: “I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to be the focus of someone’s obsession. I’m not even that much to look at, but it happened to me.” She held out her hands, revealing the scars on her palms. The permanent souvenirs of her battle with the man who had twice almost taken her life. A man who still lived, though trapped in a quadriplegic’s body.
“That’s why I asked whether you’d received any strange letters,” said Rizzoli. “I was thinking about her. Lori Hwang.”
“Her killer was arrested,” said Father Brophy.
“Yes.”
“So you’re not implying it’s the same man.”
“No, I’m just pointing out the parallels. A single gunshot wound to the head. Women in public jobs. It just makes you think.” Rizzoli struggled to her feet. It took some effort to push herself out of the easy chair. Frost was quick to offer her his hand, but she ignored it. Though heavily pregnant, Rizzoli was not one to reach for assistance. She hoisted her purse over her shoulder and gave Maura a searching look. “Do you want to stay somewhere else tonight?”
“This is my house. Why would I go anywhere else?”
“Just asking. I guess I don’t need to tell you to lock your doors.”
“I always do.”
Rizzoli looked at Eckert. “Can Brookline PD watch the house?”
He nodded. “I’ll make sure a patrol car comes by every so often.”
“I appreciate that,” said Maura. “Thank you.”
Maura accompanied the three detectives to the front door and watched them walk to their cars. It was now after midnight. Outside, the street had been transformed back into the quiet neighborhood she knew. The Brookline PD cruisers were gone; the Taurus had already been towed away to the crime lab. Even the yellow police tape had been removed. In the morning,