The Silent Girl (33 page)

“I did that all by myself?”

“You have extensive martial arts training. You were taught at one of the best academies in the world, in Taiwan.” Jane slapped a folder on the table. “The file on your travel records for the past five years.”

Bella cocked her head. “I have a file?”

“You do now.”

Bella opened the folder and flipped through the pages with feigned disinterest. “So I’ve been in and out of the country. Aren’t we Americans free to travel where we want?”

“Not many Americans spend five years in a Taiwan monastery, studying an ancient art like wushu.”

“Different strokes for different folks.”

“And here’s the interesting part. You were sponsored by Mrs. Fang. She’s not wealthy, yet she paid for those years of training. Paid for your plane flights, your tuition. Why?”

“She saw that I had talent.”

“When did she recognize that?”

“I was seventeen and living on the streets when she found me. She dusted me off and took me on, maybe because I reminded her of her daughter.”

“Is that what you’re doing in Boston? Playing her surrogate daughter?”

“I teach at her studio. We practice the same style of martial arts. And we share the same philosophy.”

“What philosophy would that be?”

Bella looked her in the eye. “That justice is a responsibility shared by all.”

“Justice? Or vengeance?”

“Some would say that
vengeance
is simply another word for justice.”

Jane stared at Bella, trying to read her. Trying to decide if this was the same creature who’d saved her life in the alley, who’d perched on the warehouse roof. Bella was flesh and blood, like any other twenty-four-year-old, but she was definitely not ordinary. Looking into those eyes, Jane glimpsed a strangeness, a wildness. An animal spirit that made her suddenly draw back, a chill raising the hairs on her arms. As if she’d glimpsed something in those eyes that was not quite human.

Frost broke the silence. “Ms. Li, it’s time to tell us the truth.”

Bella gave him a dismissive look. “Which part isn’t the truth?”

“The part about why Iris Fang chose you in particular.”

“She could have chosen anyone.”

“But she didn’t. She flew all the way to San Francisco to find one particular seventeen-year-old girl whose mother had just died. A girl who ran away from her foster home and was living on the streets. What was so special about you in particular?”

When Bella didn’t answer, Jane said: “We have your school records from California. They don’t mention your mother’s immigration status.”

“My mother’s dead. What does it matter now?”

“She was an illegal immigrant.”

“Prove it.”

“What about you, Bella?”

“I have a US passport.”

“Which says that you were born in the state of Massachusetts. Six years later, you’re registered in a public school in San Francisco. Your mother is working as a hotel maid with a fake Social Security number. Why did you move there? Why did you two suddenly pull up stakes and run to California?” Jane leaned in close enough to see her own reflection in those bottomless eyes. “I have a pretty good idea who you really are. I just can’t prove it yet. But trust me, I will.” She glanced at Frost. “Show her the search warrant.”

Bella frowned. “Search warrant?”

“It authorizes us to enter your residence,” said Frost. “Detective Tam is at your address now, with the search team.”

“What do you think you’re going to find?”

“Evidence that will link you to the deaths of an unidentified female Jane Doe on the night of April fifteenth, and an unidentified male, John Doe, on the night of April twenty-first.”

Bella shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I have a rock-solid alibi for April fifteenth. I was onstage at a wushu demonstration in Chinatown. There were at least two hundred witnesses.”

“We’ll verify that. In the meantime, if you want an attorney, now is the time to call one.”

“You’re
arresting
me?” Bella snapped forward, a move so sudden that Jane flinched, fully aware of how quickly and lethally this girl could move. “This,” she said quietly, “is a
very bad mistake.
” Something deep in Bella’s eyes seemed to stir, like a creature awakening in the inky depths.

“Tell us why it’s a mistake, and maybe we’ll reconsider,” said Jane.

Bella took a breath, and someone else seemed to take possession of her. Someone who stared back with eyes as cold as polished stone. “I have nothing more to say.”

B
ELLA’S APARTMENT WAS CLEAN
. Far too clean. Jane stood in the living room, staring down at a carpet that still bore the parallel tracks of recent vacuuming.

“This is the way we found it,” said Tam. “Kitchen and bathroom are scrubbed spotless. Not even a stray scrap of paper in the trash cans. It’s like no one lives here. Either she’s obsessive-compulsive about housecleaning, or she was scouring away any trace evidence.”

“How did she know we’d be coming here?”

“Anyone who gets a call to visit Boston PD is going to figure out they’re a suspect. She must have realized we’d be coming.”

Jane went to the window and peered through spotless glass at the street below, where two elderly women hobbled along the sidewalk, their arms linked. It was quiet on this corner of Tai Tung Village, at the south end of Chinatown. Iris Fang’s residence was right up the street, a minute’s walk away. The neighborhood was very much its own universe, and Jane felt like the alien here. It was a feeling reinforced by every stare, every nervous murmur among the neighbors. With her badge and her authority, Jane was the alien wherever she went, the outsider who could be either your best friend or your worst enemy.

She turned from the window and went into the bathroom, where Frost was down on his knees scanning the cabinet beneath the sink. “Nothing,” he said and rose to his feet, face flushed from bending. “Not a single hair in the shower or sink. All I found in the medicine cabinet was aspirin and a roll of Ace wrap. It’s like no one lives here.”

“Are we sure she does?”

“Tam spoke to the neighbor next door. Old guy in his eighties. Says he hardly ever sees her, but he does hear voices in here every so often.” Frost rapped the wall. “They’re pretty thin.”

“Voices, as in plural?”

“Could be the TV. She lives alone.”

Jane looked around at the pristine bathroom. “If she lives here at all.”

“Someone’s paying the rent.”

“Looks like someone’s also been through here with the bleach and a vacuum cleaner.”

“Funny thing about the vacuum cleaner. We can’t find one, so we have no bag to look at, no trace evidence.”

Jane headed into the bedroom, where she found Tam talking on his cell phone. He gave a nod as Jane stepped into the room. The floor was wood, swept clean. The sheets and bedcovers had been pulled back, the mattress exposed. Dropping to her knees, Jane peered beneath the bed and saw that the floor under the box spring was just as dust-free. A pair of shoes walked into view and Jane popped up to see a Boston PD criminalist looking at her across the mattress.

“We didn’t find any weapon,” he reported. “Unless you count the cooking knives in the kitchen.”

“You didn’t see anything like a sword?”

“No, ma’am. We went through the closets and drawers. Pulled out all the furniture and looked behind it.” He paused, glancing around at the bare walls. “I’m guessing she hasn’t been here very long. Not long enough to settle in.”

“If she planned to stay at all.”

“Didn’t bring much in the way of clothes, either.”

Jane opened the closet and saw no more than a dozen items hanging there, all size two. Three pairs of black pants, a few dark sweaters and blouses, and one sleeveless summer dress of soft peach silk. It was the wardrobe of a temporary visitor who clearly planned to move on. A girl who remained a mystery to them. Jane stared at the dress,
trying to picture Bella Li wearing something so feminine, so flirty, but could not see it. Instead she saw the girl’s fierce eyes, her spiky black hair.

“Sorry to tell you this,” said Tam, holding up his cell phone. “But her alibi for April fifteenth is solid. I just spoke to the program director at the cultural center. That night they hosted a martial arts demonstration. Bella Li performed with eight students from the Dragon and Stars Academy.”

“What time was it?”

“The group arrived at six
PM
, ate dinner, and went onstage about nine
PM
. They were there for the whole evening.” He shook his head. “This isn’t going to stick, Rizzoli.”

“She has no alibi for April twenty-first.”

“That’s not a reason to hold her.”

“Then let’s find a reason, goddamn it.”

“Why?” Tam’s gaze was so probing, it made her uncomfortable.

She turned back to the closet, to avoid his eyes. “Something about her trips my sensors. I
know
she’s involved, but I don’t know how.”

“All we have is a surveillance video with a female figure. It might be her, but it might be someone else. We don’t have any weapon. We don’t have any trace evidence.”

“Because she blitzed this place with bleach before we got here.”

“So what do we have, besides your gut feeling?”

“It’s served me well before.” She reached into the closet and poked a gloved hand into pockets, searching. Not knowing what she was looking for. She found only stray change, a button, a folded tissue.

“You know, Tam’s right,” said Frost, standing in the doorway. “We have to release her.”

“Not till I know more about her. Who she really is,” said Jane.

“We’re just guessing.”

“Then let’s find what we need to prove it. There’s a trail somewhere, there has to be.” She crossed to the bedroom window and looked down at an alley. The sash was unlocked, the window open
just enough to let in fresh air. A fire escape landing was right outside, and there was no screen on the window. Any other female tenant would feel nervous about this lack of security, but Bella Li was fearless, striding through life ready for battle. At night, in her bed, did she ever startle awake at the odd noise outside her window, the creak in the floor? Or did she sleep like a warrior as well, unafraid even in her dreams?

Jane turned from the window and suddenly stopped, her gaze on the curtain. The fabric was a polyester blend that never wrinkles, a print of beige bamboo stalks against a forest of green. On that multicolored background, the silvery streak was almost invisible. Only at that angle, with the room light glancing across the fabric’s surface, did Jane see the strand clinging to the fabric.

She pulled an evidence bag out of her pocket. Afraid to even breathe, she delicately plucked the strand from the curtain and slipped it into the bag. Holding the bag up to the light, she stared through plastic at the single hair. Then she looked at the window, and at the fire escape just beyond it.

It was here. The creature was in this room
.

T
HE HUNTER SELDOM REALIZES WHEN HE IS THE ONE BEING
hunted. He walks in the woods, rifle in hand, eyes alert for his quarry’s prints on snow-dusted ground. He searches for spoor or sits perched in his tree blind, waiting for the bear to lumber into view. It never occurs to him that his prey might be watching
him
, biding its time until he makes a mistake.

The hunter who stalks me now would see little to fear. I appear to be merely a middle-aged woman, my hair streaked with gray, my gait slowed by weariness and the weight of the bags I carry, bulging with my weekly supply of groceries. I walk the same route I always walk on Tuesday evening. After shopping at the Chinese market on Beach Street, I turn right onto Tyler and head south, toward my quiet neighborhood of Tai Tung Village. I keep my head down, my shoulders drooped, so that anyone who sees me will think:
Here is a victim
. Not a woman who will fight back. Not a woman you need to fear.

But by now my opponent knows he should be wary, just as I am wary of him. So far we have sparred only in the shadows but have never actually connected, except through his surrogates. We are two
hunters still circling each other, and he must make the next move. Only then, when he emerges into the light, will I know his face.

So I walk down Tyler Street as I have so many times before, wondering if this is the night. I have never felt so vulnerable, and I know the next act is about to begin. The bright lights of Beach and Kneeland streets fade behind me. I move through shadows now, past dark doorways and unlit alleys, the plastic grocery sacks rustling as I walk. Just a tired widow minding her own business. But I am aware of everything around me, from the mist on my face to the scent of cilantro and onions wafting from my bags. No one escorts me. No guardian stands watch. Tonight I am alone, a target waiting for the first arrow to come flying.

As I draw near my home, I see the light over the porch is dark. Deliberate sabotage or merely a burned-out bulb? My nerves hum with alarm and my heart accelerates, rushing blood to muscles that are already tensing for battle. Then I spot the parked car and see the man who steps out to greet me, and my breath rushes out in a sigh of both relief and exasperation.