Ice Cold: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER
Tess Gerritsen’s relentless, inventive novels take readers on pulse-racing thrill rides that are as satisfying as they are heart-stopping. Now, in this edge-of-your-seat suspense novel, a mysteriously isolated town stands abandoned as a silent watcher waits.
In Wyoming for a medical conference, Boston medical examiner Maura Isles joins a group of friends on a spur-of-the-moment ski trip. But when their SUV stalls on a snow-choked mountain road, they’re stranded with no help in sight.
As night falls, the group seeks refuge from the blizzard in the remote village of Kingdom Come, where twelve eerily identical houses stand dark and abandoned. Something terrible has happened in Kingdom Come: Meals sit untouched on tables, cars are still parked in garages. The town’s previous residents seem to have vanished into thin air, but footprints in the snow betray the presence of someone who still lurks in the cold darkness—someone who is watching Maura and her friends.
Days later, Boston homicide detective Jane Rizzoli receives the grim news that Maura’s charred body has been found in a mountain ravine. Shocked and grieving, Jane is determined to learn what happened to her friend. The investigation plunges Jane into the twisted history of Kingdom Come, where a gruesome discovery lies buried beneath the snow. As horrifying revelations come to light, Jane closes in on an enemy both powerful and merciless—and the chilling truth about Maura’s fate.
Praise for Ice Cold
“The kind of book you’d read in one sitting.”—Chicago Sun-Times
“Amazing . . . another winner.”—The Plain Dealer
“Gerritsen paces Ice Cold with surgical precision.”—Salon
From the Hardcover edition.
macaroni starts to sound good.” “It’s an adventure, guys. Think of it as jumping out of a plane and trusting in the fates to get you safely on the ground.” “I’m not like you, Doug,” said Arlo. “I don’t jump out of planes.” “You don’t know what you’ve missed.” “Lunch.” Every step was hard labor. Despite the dropping temperature, Maura was sweating inside her ski parka. Her throat ached with each searing breath of cold air. Too tired to break a path through fresh snow, she fell into step
has any electricity.” For a moment they stood without speaking, too demoralized to say a word. They heard no clocks ticking, no refrigerators humming. Just the vacuum of dead space. The sudden clang of metal made Maura jump. “Sorry,” said Arlo, standing near the hearth. “I knocked over one of the fireplace tools.” He paused. “Hey, there are matches here.” They heard the whick of a match head being struck. In the flickering light of the flame they saw firewood stacked by the stone hearth. Then
Why can’t she go?” Grace pointed at Maura, a gesture so aggressive it felt like an accusation. “Stop it, Grace. Stop it.” He grabbed his daughter’s shoulders and gave her a hard shake. “I’m the strongest. I’ll have the best chance of making it. And Arlo is my friend.” “But you’re my father,” Grace shot back. “I need you to grow up right now. You have to realize that you’re not the center of the universe.” He strapped on his backpack. “We’ll talk about this when I get back. Now give me a kiss,
mound. It was just a white hillock, its features blending into the vast landscape of snow, where everything was white, where bush and boulder were indistinguishable beneath their thick winter blankets. Only as they drew closer to the mound did Maura see the streak of yellow peeking through, where Grace had swiped away the snow to reveal what was underneath. A bulldozer. “It’s just sitting out here in the open,” said Grace. “Like they were in the middle of digging up something and they just …
deprogram in a few days what’s been pounded into your head for years. And if they insist on going back to the compound, you can’t hold them indefinitely.” “Then do it another way,” said Jane. “DNA tests on the babies. Find out which men are the fathers. Find out if the mothers were underage when they gave birth.” “That’s like cutting the branches to kill a tree,” said Cathy. “There’s only one way to bring it crashing down. You have to destroy the root.” “Jeremiah,” said Pasternak. Cathy