“No.” Julianne swung the gun toward Frost, then back to Jane. “No.”
Both patrol officers had their weapons drawn and aimed at Julianne, but Jane raised her hand in a command to hold their fire. There’d been enough bloodshed; let this end without more.
“Give me the gun,” Jane said.
“I had to do it, don’t you see? I had no choice.”
“You have a choice now.”
“It would have torn apart my family. After all I did to protect her—”
“You’re a good mother. No one doubts that.”
“A good mother,” Julianne whispered. She stared down at the gun in her hands, its barrel still pointed toward Jane. “A good mother does what has to be done.”
No, thought Jane.
But Julianne was already raising the gun to her own head. Finger on the trigger, she pressed the barrel to her temple.
“Mom, don’t!” cried Amy. “Please, Mommy.”
Julianne went utterly still.
“I love you,” Amy sobbed. “I need you.” Slowly she moved toward her mother.
As much as Jane wanted to lunge between them and push Amy out of harm’s way, she knew that Amy was the only one who could reach Julianne. Who could end this.
“Mommy,” whimpered Amy. She wrapped her arms around Julianne and dropped her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Mommy, don’t leave me. Please.”
Slowly Julianne lowered the gun. She offered no resistance when Jane took it from her grasp. Nor did she resist when Frost pulled her wrists behind her and slipped on handcuffs. He grasped her arm, pulled her away from her daughter.
“No, don’t take her,” Amy said as Frost led Julianne toward the patrol car.
Jane snapped handcuffs over Amy’s wrists and led her toward a different vehicle. Only then, as the two women were pulled in different directions, did Julianne start struggling. She tried to twist away from Frost.
“Amy!” she screamed as Frost wrestled her into the cruiser. Her unearthly wail rose to a shriek as the car door slammed shut, locking her inside, separating her from her daughter.
“Amy!”
Even as the cruiser drove away, Jane could still hear that shriek, an echo of despair that lingered in the air long after Julianne was gone.
I feel everyone staring at me as I stand at the bottom of the airport escalator, waiting for Vince to arrive. No wonder they’re looking; I am a terrifying sight. My face is even more purple than it was four days ago, after my escape from the warehouse, and my cheek is so swollen it looks like an inflated balloon. These are the bruises of a warrior woman and I’m not embarrassed by them. I wear them proudly because I want Vince to see just how tough a cookie I am. Among all these people bustling around me in baggage claim, how many of them can say that they survived a kidnapping and also disarmed a neighbor?
That’s how we Rizzoli women roll. No wonder my daughter’s so good at what she does.
A hand gently settles on my arm and I turn to see a young woman with kind eyes frowning at me in concern.
“Excuse me for asking,” she says softly, “but are you okay? Are you safe?”
“Oh, you mean this?” I point to my face.
“Did someone hurt you?”
“Yeah. He smacked me around pretty good.”
“Oh honey, I hope you called the police. I hope you’re pressing charges.”
“I don’t need to. He’s dead.”
My grin seems to startle her and she slowly backs away.
“But thanks for asking!” I call out as she retreats. What a nice lady, inquiring about my welfare. We should all be like her, watching out for one another, keeping one another safe. Something I already do because it comes naturally to me, even if too often it seems like I’m just meddling. I got these bruises from asking too many questions and poking my nose into other people’s business, but that’s why Larry Leopold’s still alive, why Rick Talley won’t be spending the rest of his life in jail, and why Nina Whatever-her-real-name-is no longer has to be afraid for her life.
“Angie? Oh my god, baby!”
I turn to see Vince stepping off the escalator. He drops his carry-on, grabs me by the shoulders, and stares at me.
“Oh, honey,” he says. “It’s so much worse than Jane told me.”
“You talked to her?”
“Yesterday. She called to warn me about the black eye but she never said he beat the crap outta you. I swear, if that son of a bitch wasn’t already dead I’d kill him myself!”