Frost drove east on Columbus Avenue, then headed toward Beacon Hill, where they planned to take another look at the crime scene. The car at last had warmed, and she dreaded stepping out again, into that wind, into Sansone’s courtyard, still stained with frozen blood.

She noticed they were approaching Massachusetts Avenue and she said, suddenly, “Could you turn right?”

“Aren’t we going to Sansone’s place?”

“Just turn here.”

“If you say so.” He made a right.

“Keep going. Toward Albany Street.”

“We going to the M.E.’s?”

“No.”

“So where we headed?”

“It’s right down here. Another few blocks.” She watched the addresses go by, and said, “Stop. Right here.” She stared across the street.

Frost pulled over to the curb and frowned at her. “Kinko’s?”

“My dad works there.” She glanced at her watch. “And it’s just about noon.”

“What are we doing?”

“Waiting.”

“Aw geez, Rizzoli. This isn’t about your mom, is it?”

“It’s screwing up my whole life right now.”

“Your parents are having a tiff. It happens.”

“Wait till your mother moves in with you. See how Alice likes it.”

“I’m sure this’ll blow over and your mom’ll go home.”

“Not if there’s another woman involved.” She sat up straight. “There he is.”

Frank Rizzoli stepped out the front door of Kinko’s and zipped up his jacket. He glanced at the sky, gave a visible shiver, and exhaled a breath that swirled white in the cold.

“Looks like he’s going on his lunch break,” said Frost. “What’s the big deal?”

“That,” said Jane softly. “That’s the big deal.”

A woman had just stepped out the door as well, a big-haired blond wearing a black leather jacket over skin-tight blue jeans. Frank grinned and slipped his arm around her waist. They began to walk down the street, away from Jane and Frost, arms wrapped around each other.

“What the fuck,” said Jane. “It’s true.”

“You know, I think we should probably just move on.”

“Look at them. Look at them!”

Frost started the engine. “I could really use some lunch. How about we go to-”

Jane shoved open the door and stepped out.

“Aw, Rizzoli! Come on.”

She darted across the street and stalked up the sidewalk, right behind her father. “Hey,” she yelled. “Hey!”

Frank halted, his arm dropping from around the woman’s waist. He turned to stare, slack-jawed, as his daughter approached. The blond had not yet released her grip and she continued to cling to Frank, even as he made futile attempts to extricate himself. From a distance, the woman had looked like a real eye-catcher, but as Jane drew closer she saw, fanning out from the woman’s eyes, deep creases that even thick makeup couldn’t conceal, and she caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. This was the piece of ass Frank had traded up to, a bimbo with big hair? This human equivalent of a golden retriever?

“Janie,” said Frank. “This isn’t the time to-”

“When is the time?”

“I’ll call you, okay? We’ll talk about it tonight.”

“Frankie honey, what’s going on?” the blond asked.

Don’t you call him Frankie! Jane glared at the woman. “And what’s your name?”

The woman’s chin jutted up. “Who wants to know?”

“Just answer the fucking question.”

“Yeah, make me!” The blond looked at Frank. “Who the hell is this?”

Frank lifted a hand to his head and gave a moan, as though in pain. “Oh, man.”

“Boston PD,” said Jane. She pulled out her ID and thrust it in the woman’s face. “Now tell me your name.”

The blond didn’t even look at the ID; her startled gaze was on Jane. “Sandie,” she murmured.

“Sandie what?”

“Huffington.”

“ID,” ordered Jane.

“Janie,” said her dad. “That’s enough.”

Sandie obediently pulled out her wallet to show her driver’s license. “What did we do wrong?” She shot a suspicious look at Frank. “What’d you do?”

“This is all bullshit,” he said.

“And when’s the bullshit going to end, huh?” Jane shot back at him. “When are you going to grow up?”

“This is none of your beeswax.”

“Oh no? She’s sitting in my apartment right now, probably crying her eyes out. All because you can’t keep your goddamn pants zipped.”

“She?” said Sandie. “Who’re we talking about?”

“Thirty-seven years of marriage, and you dump her for boom-boom here?”

“You don’t understand,” said Frank.

“Oh, I understand just fine.”

“You have no idea what it’s like. Just a damn worker bee, that’s all I am. Some drone to put food on the table. I’m sixty-one years old, and what do I got to show for it? You don’t think I deserve a little fun, for once in my life?”

“You think Mom’s having any fun?”

“That’s her problem.”

“It’s mine, too.”

“Well, I take no responsibility for that.”

“Hey,” said Sandie. “This is your daughter?” She looked at Jane. “You said you were a cop.”

Frank sighed. “She is a cop.”

“You’re breaking her heart, you know that?” said Jane. “Do you even care?”

“What about my heart?” Sandie cut in.

Jane ignored the bimbo and kept her gaze on Frank. “I don’t even know who you are anymore, Dad. I used to respect you. Now look at you! Pathetic, just pathetic. This blondie shakes her ass and you’re like some idiot dog, sniffing at it. Oh yeah, Dad, hump away.”

Frank shoved a finger at her. “That’s enough outta you!”

“You think boom-boom here is gonna take care of you when you’re sick, huh? You think she’ll stand by you? Hell, does she even know how to cook?”

“How dare you,” said Sandie. “You used your badge to scare me.”

“Mom’ll take you back, Dad. I know she will. Go talk to her.”

“There’s a law against what you did,” said Sandie. “There’s gotta be! It’s police harassment!”

“I’ll show you what police harassment is,” Jane shot back. “You just keep pushing me.”

“What’re you gonna do, arrest me?” Sandie leaned into her, eyes narrowed to slits of mascara. “Go ahead.” The woman shoved her finger against Jane’s chest and gave a hard shove. “I dare you.”

What happened next was purely reflexive. Jane didn’t even stop to think, but simply reacted. With one sweep of her hand, she grasped Sandie’s wrist, twisted her around. Through the rushing of her own blood, she heard Sandie screaming obscenities. Heard her dad yell, “Stop it! For God’s sake, stop!” But she was operating on automatic now, all nerves firing on full thrust as she shoved Sandie to her knees, the way she’d handle any perp. But this time there was rage fueling her, making her twist harder than she had to, making her want to hurt this woman. Humiliate her.

“Rizzoli! Jesus, Rizzoli, that’s enough!”

The sound of Frost’s voice finally penetrated the pounding of her own pulse. Abruptly she released Sandie and stepped back, breathing hard. She stared down at the woman who knelt whimpering on the sidewalk. Frank dropped to his knees beside Sandie and helped her to her feet.

“What the hell’re you gonna do now?” Frank looked up at his daughter. “Arrest her?”

“You saw it. She shoved me.”

“She was upset.”

“She made the first contact.”

“Rizzoli,” Frost said quietly. “Let’s just drop it, okay?”

“I could arrest her,” said Jane. “Damn it, I could.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Frost. “You could. But do you really want to?”

She heaved out a breath. “I got better things to do,” she muttered. Then she turned and walked back to the car. By the time she climbed in, her dad and the blond had already vanished around the corner.

Frost slid in beside her and pulled his door shut. “That,” he said, “was not a cool thing to do.”

“Just drive.”

“You went in looking for a fight.”

“Did you see her? My dad’s going out with a friggin’ bimbo!”

“All the more reason why you need to stay a hundred miles away from her. You two were gonna kill each other.”