Free The Sinner by Tess Gerritsen Page B

conversation go on any longer. She was afraid that
she’d
be sucked in again. She could already feel it happening.
    “Look,” he said. “I’m only in town for a few
days.
I have a meeting tomorrow at the Harvard School of Public Health, but after
that,
I have no plans. It’s almost Christmas, Maura. I thought we could spend the
holidays together. If you’re free.”
    “And then you’ll just go flying off again.”
    “At least we could catch up on things. Couldn’t you take
a few days off?”
    “I have a job, Victor. I can’t just leave it.”
    He glanced at the building, and gave a disbelieving laugh. “I
don’t know why you’d even want a job like that.”
    “The dark side, remember? That’s me.”
    He looked at her, and his voice softened. “You haven’t
changed.
Not a bit.”
    “Neither have you, and that’s the problem.” She
slid
into her car and pulled the door shut.
    He rapped on the window. She looked at him, gazing in at her,
snowflakes
glistening on his lashes, and she had no choice but to roll down the glass and
continue
the conversation.
    “When can we talk again?” he asked.
    “I have to go now.”
    “Later, then. Tonight.”
    “I don’t know when I’ll get home.”
    “Come on, Maura.” He leaned close. Said softly,
“Take
a chance. I’m staying at the Colonnade. Call me.”
    She sighed. “I’ll think about it.”
    He reached in and squeezed her arm. Again, the scent of him
stirred
warm recollections, of nights they had slept beneath crisp sheets, legs twined
around
each other. Of long, slow kisses, and the taste of fresh lemons and vodka. Two
years
of marriage leave indelible memories, both good and bad, and at that moment,
with
his hand on her arm, it was the good memories that dominated.
    “I’ll wait for your call,” he said. Already
presuming
he had won.
    Does he think it’s so easy? she wondered as she drove out of
the
parking lot and headed toward Jamaica Plain. One smile, one touch, and all is
forgiven?
    Her tires suddenly skittered across the ice-crusted road, and she
gripped
the wheel, her attention instantly focused on regaining control of the car. She
had
been so agitated, she hadn’t realized how fast she was going. The Lexus
fishtailed,
tires spinning, searching for purchase. Only when she had steered it back into a
straight line did she allow herself to breathe again. To be angry again.
    First you break my heart. Then you almost get me killed.
    An irrational thought, but there it was. Victor inspired
irrational
thoughts.
    By the time she pulled up across the street from Graystones Abbey,
she felt wrung out by the drive. She sat for a moment in the car, wrestling her
emotions
under control. Control was the word she lived by. Once she stepped out of
the
car, she was a public person, visible to law enforcement and to the press. They
expected
her to appear calm and logical, and so she would. Much of the job was simply
looking
the part.
    She stepped out, and this time she crossed the road with
confidence,
her boots gripping the road. Police cars lined the street, and two TV news crews
sat in their vans, waiting for some breaking development. Already, the wintry
light
was fading into evening.
    She rang the gate bell, and a nun appeared, black habit emerging
from
the shadows. The nun recognized Maura and admitted her without a word of
conversation
passing between them.
    Inside the courtyard, dozens of footprints had churned the snow.
It
was a different place than on the morning Maura first walked in. Today, all
semblance
of tranquility was disrupted by the search now under way. Lights shone in all
the
windows, and she could hear men’s voices echoing from archways. Stepping
into
the entrance hall, she smelled the scent of tomato sauce and cheese, unpleasant
odors
that conjured up memories of the bland and leathery lasagna that had been served
so often in the cafeteria of the hospital where she’d trained as a medical
student.
    She glanced into the dining room and