The Keepsake: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel by Tess Gerritsen

Author:Tess Gerritsen [Gerritsen, Tess]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
ISBN: 0345497635
Amazon: B0015DTUSO
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Published: 2008-09-09T05:00:00+00:00

NINETEEN

“The victim was a thirty-six-year-old white male named Jimmy Otto,” said Detective Crowe. “His body was discovered in San Diego, after a dog dug up a tasty little snack: a human finger. The dog’s owner saw what Fido brought home, freaked out, and called 911. Dog led the police back to the body, which was buried in a shallow grave in a neighbor’s backyard. The victim had been dead for a few days, and wildlife had gotten at the extremities so they couldn’t get any usable fingerprints. There was no wallet on the body, either, but whoever stripped his ID missed a hotel key card that was tucked in his jeans pocket. It was for a local Holiday Inn, where the guest was registered under the name James Otto.”

“A hotel key card?” said Jane. “So this victim didn’t live in San Diego.”

“No. His address was here, in Massachusetts, where he lived with his sister. Carrie Otto flew out to San Diego and ID’d her brother’s clothing. And what was left of him.”

Jane tore open a packet of Advil, popped two tablets in her mouth, and washed them down with lukewarm coffee. Last night, she and Frost had not arrived home in Boston until two AM, and what little sleep she did get was repeatedly interrupted by one-year-old Regina, who demanded hugs and reassurance that Mommy really was home again. This morning, Jane had awakened with a monster headache. The twists and turns of the investigation were making that headache worse, and the glow of the fluorescent lights in the conference room made even her eyeballs hurt.

“You both with me so far?” said Crowe, glancing up at Jane and Frost, who looked as exhausted as Jane felt.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “So what did the autopsy show?”

“Cause of death was a single gunshot wound to the back of the head. The weapon was never recovered.”

“And whose backyard was he buried in?”

“It was a rental house,” said Crowe. “The tenants were a single mother and her fourteen-year-old daughter, and they’d already packed up and vanished. The police sprayed the house with luminol, and the girl’s bedroom lit up like Vegas. Traces of blood were all over the floor and the baseboards. That’s where Jimmy Otto was killed. In the girl’s bedroom.”

“And this was twelve years ago?”

“Josephine would have been about fourteen,” said Frost.

Crowe nodded. “Except her name wasn’t Josephine back then. It was Susan Cook.” He gave a laugh. “And guess what? The real Susan Cook died as an infant. In Syracuse, New York.”

“It was another co-opted ID?” said Jane.

“Ditto on the mother, who also had a fake name: Lydia Newhouse. According to the San Diego PD report, mother and daughter rented the house for three years, but they kept to themselves. At the time of the killing, the girl had just finished the eighth grade at William Howard Taft Middle School. Very bright, according to her teachers, work way above her grade level.”

“And the mother?”

“Lydia Newhouse—or whatever her real name is—worked at the Museum of Man in Balboa Park.

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