Ice Cold (32 page)
Authors: Tess Gerritsen
Tags: #Suspense, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Fiction, #Detective and mystery stories; American, #Thrillers, #Winter storms, #Medical examiners (Law), #Wyoming, #Rizzoli; Jane; Detective (Fictitious character), #Abandoned houses, #Isles; Maura (Fictitious character), #Policewomen, #Women forensic pathologists, #Suspense fiction; American
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing is a lonely profession, but I am far from alone. I am fortunate to have the help and support of my husband, Jacob; my literary agent, Meg Ruley; and my editor, Linda Marrow. I owe thanks as well to Selina Walker at Transworld; to Brian McLendon, Libby McGuire, and Kim Hovey at Ballantine; and to the lively and wonderful crew at the Jane Rotrosen Agency.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
T
ESS
G
ERRITSEN
is a physician and an internationally best-selling 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
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. Visit her website at
www.tessgerritsen.com
.
Rizzoli & Isles, In Their Own Words…
JANE RIZZOLI
Detective, homicide unit, Boston Police Department
I’m just a girl from Boston who hunts monsters for a living. Yeah, I know I’m not supposed to call ’em that, but that’s what some of them are. Monsters. If you saw what they’ve done, the lives they’ve ruined, you’d want to take them down, too.
I’ve wanted to be a cop since a police officer came to my school for career day. I saw how the other kids looked up to him, and I knew that was the job for me. I wanted the gun, the badge.
Most of all, I wanted the respect.
Felt like I didn’t get a lot of that when I was growing up. My mom’s a housewife and my dad’s a plumber–we’re blue collar all the way. I had an okay childhood, but I have to admit we were a noisy household. Lots of yelling.
After my training at Boston PD academy, I worked my way up from beat patrolman to detective (vice and narcotics) and finally ended up where I am now: the homicide unit. It’s a boy’s club. I get it.
Still, it gets old, having to prove myself again and again. I hate whiners, so you’ll never hear me complain. Whining doesn’t get you anywhere, not with the guys in my unit. Not with guys anywhere, for that matter.
My philosophy for success? Make every perp hunt personal. Get angry, never give up, and for god’s sake, wear flats to a scene. You’ll never catch anyone if you’re wearing high heels.
DR. MAURA ISLES
Forensic pathologist, Medical Examiner’s office, Commonwealth of Massachusetts
I want to believe that there is a scientific explanation for everything that happens. It isn’t fate that sends a bicyclist flying over the handlebars to her death; it’s because her front tire hit a frost heave and kinetic energy took over. Fate has nothing to do with it. Death is not a mystical process; it is organic. I find that comforting.
I knew, from an early age, that I was something of an odd duck. I was the child who hid out in her room for hours, reading, the child who dissected her dead pet mouse. I was the scholar, the accomplished pianist, the honor student. My parents understood that I was different, and although they were not people who’d crow loudly about anything, I always knew they were proud of me.
My devotion to logic and science drew me to the study of medicine. But soon after I began medical school, I realized that I wasn’t meant to work with living patients. I wasn’t good at holding their hands, at ferreting out the unspoken emotional clues in their voices when they told me of their aches and pains. I can analyze x-rays and blood chemistries, I can slice open muscles and organs, but I possess no scalpel with which to dissect human emotions.
So I became a forensic pathologist.
Boston is my home now. These cold New England winters suit me, as does my job as medical examiner. But I have little in common with the Boston PD detectives with whom I work. I think some of them may even be afraid of me, because I see their wary glances and hear their whispers as I walk past. And I know what they call me behind my back:
“The Queen of the Dead.”
Presenting a sneak peek at the script for the pilot episode of
The new TNT drama based on
Tess Gerritsen’s Rizzoli & Isles novels
Premiering July 2010 on TNT
Starring Angie Harmon as Jane Rizzoli
and Sasha Alexander as Maura Isles
EXEC. PRODUCER: BILL HABER
EXEC. PRODUCER: JANET TAMARO
CO-EXEC. PRODUCER: JEFF HAYES
Rizzoli & Isles
“See One. Do One. Teach One.”
Written by
Janet Tamaro
Directed by
Michael M. Robin
All rights reserved. © 2009 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.
EXT. WEST ROXBURY MANSION / INT. MAURA’S CAR -NIGHT (INTERCUT)
DET. DARREN CROWE, 30s. He has a frat boy’s insouciance and an aging ballplayer’s good looks. He stands on the lawn of a mansion as CRIME SCENE UNIT (CSU) TECHS and BOSTON P.D. UNIFORMS SWARM in and out of a renovated mansion.
Maura pulls the SL-500 into a long driveway, parks next to a van:
Commonwealth of Massachusetts, Office of the Chief Medical Examiner
. TWO MORGUE ATTENDANTS nod at her.
REPORTERS and CAMERA CREWS work the taped-off crime scene, hovering as close as COPS will let them.
ANGLE ON: REPORTER KITTY VANSEN, 30s, TV-pretty, as she SPIES Maura. She PUSHES her beleaguered CAMERAMAN.
KITTY
Go, go. It’s the coroner.
Maura, with her medical case, deftly moves away from Kitty as she shoves a mic at Maura.
KITTY (CONT’D)
Dr. Isles –What can you tell us about the murders?
MAURA
I’ll have a statement for you later tonight, Kitty.
Crowe puts out a hand to stop Kitty.
KITTY
If I was a corpse, she’d talk to me.
PATROL OFFICER CASEY JONES, 30s is stationed at the front door with a clipboard.
OFFICER JONES
Evening, Dr. Isles.
MAURA
Hello, Casey. Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner.
He writes this down as she enters. Crowe applies chapstick and turns back to Kitty.
CROWE
C’mon, it’s your lucky day.
Kitty motions for her cameraman to set up to interview Crowe.
CROWE (CONT’D)
Can’t say this on camera, but we call Dr. Isles “Queen of the Dead.”
JANE (0. S.)
What’s that, Crowe?
ANGLE ON Jane as she POWERS toward them. She STEPS between Crowe and Kitty, BLOCKS the cameraman’s shot of Crowe.
CROWE
Jeez, take a Midol.
JANE
Commander cleared you?
CROWE
What’s it to you?
JANE
It’s my case.
CROWE
Since when? I’m up. I got clearance. Move.
JANE
Not anymore. I just talked to the Commander. Where’s Frost?
CROWE
Losin’ his lunch, where else?
ANGLE ON DET. BARRY FROST, late 20s. He’s trying to cover the fact that he’s puking into the bushes.
CROWE (CONT’D)
You two are a pair.
JANE
We ate at Ye Old Mill Grill. Probably had bad fish sticks.
CROWE
He shoulda stayed in Robbery. Hangnails make him gag. Guy gives us a bad name.
Crowe throws a bullshit-friendly WAVE at Frost.
JANE
Leave him alone.
Frost approaches, embarrassed. Crowe feigns concern.
CROWE
You okay, buddy?
FROST
Oh, yeah. Fine. Something I ate.
JANE
Where’s the crime scene?
CROWE
Follow your nose. Might bring back some memories.
JANE
What’s that supposed to mean? Crowe flashes a tight smile.
CROWE
You’ll see. Have fun, Rizzoli.
As they move toward Officer Jones, Jane RUBS her hands.
FROST
Hands hurt?
JANE
It’s gonna rain.
Jane checks in with Officer Jones.
JANE (CONT’D)
Rizzoli. Homicide 825.
OFFICER JONES
You going back for more, Frost?
INT. WEST ROXBURY MANSION -FOYER -NIGHT
Jane and Frost stand in a marble entry, stare at a vast home. Polished, old wood, cathedral-height ceilings.
JANE
Not in South Boston anymore, Dorothy.
DET. VINCE KORSAK, 50s, doughy in his shirt sleeves and breathing hard, appears from another part of the house.
JANE (CONT’D)
Korsak?
Korsak EYES Frost, not happy to see him.
JANE (CONT’D)
Thought you were on vacation.
KORSAK
Cut it short.
Korsak looks intently at Jane. She senses something more than just antipathy toward Frost.
JANE
That bad?
KORSAK
Worse.
Jane hands Frost a tin of Vicks VapoRub. He rubs some under his nose. Korsak starts back into the house.
JANE
Will you be okay this time?
FROST
Oh, yeah. Long as my upper lip smells like eucalyptus, I can look at anything.
INT. WEST ROXBURY MANSION -GREAT ROOM -LATER
CLOSE ON body of the bound man we saw earlier. No sign of the woman. His throat is SLIT, and he’s seated, propped against a wall under a comet’s tail of dried BLOOD. Frost gags.
FROST
Oh, man…
Maura MEASURES the depth of the wound with a steel M.E. ruler. Frost turns away, GAGS again.
MAURA
Almost 15 centimeters.
FROST
If you got this, I can start processing the rest of the house.
Jane nods sympathetically. Frost exits. Korsak smirks.
MAURA
Carotid artery and jugular have been transected. What’s odd is how precise it is.
JANE
Can you tell what kind of knife was used?
Maura frowns then looks up and studies Jane’s broken nose.
MAURA
Hairline fracture of the nasal bone above the lateral nasal cartilage. Not disfiguring.
Korsak looks at the corpse, confused.
KORSAK
Looks pretty disfiguring to me.
JANE
Can you pop it out?
Maura pulls off her gloves. Korsak watches, baffled.
MAURA
Can’t you do something safe like yoga? Might hurt a little –
Maura POPS Jane’s nose into place. An audible CRACK!
JANE
Ow! A ‘little'?
MAURA
Put ice on it for the next 24 hours so you don’t look like Mike Tyson.
JANE
You’ve been talking to my mother.
Jane SCANS photos of a bride and groom on a baby grand. She absentmindedly touches the piano, PLAYS a few notes of the haunting song, Falling Slowly.
JANE (CONT’D)
Needs tuning. Nobody plays.
KORSAK
Victim is Dr. Martin Yeager, 34. Wife Gail is missing.
Jane STUDIES a photo of the bride showing off a diamond ring.
JANE
Diamond was too small so she whacked him and walked out?
KORSAK
Un-uh. Got signs of forced entry.
Jane squats next to the body. Her face takes on a haunted look as she LIFTS pieces of a broken china cup and saucer.
JANE
Well-to-do couple. The man bound and posed. The woman missing. And a teacup.
QUICK POP: CLOSE ON FLASH of steel as a SCALPEL SKEWERS something to a dirt floor. It’s dark and quick. But it looks like someone has driven THE SCALPEL through a WOMAN’S HAND.
BACK TO SCENE