Last to Die by Tess Gerritsen

light of day. Sandie Huffington must have woken up one morning, looked at Frank Rizzoli, and noticed the lines in his face, the sag of his jowls. When the hormones were spent, what was left was sixty-two years old, and going flabby and bald. She’d snagged another woman’s husband and now she wanted to throw back the catch.
    “You gotta help me,” he said.
    “You need money, Dad?”
    His head snapped up. “No! I’m not asking for that! I got a job, why would I need your money?”
    “Then what do you need?”
    “I need you to talk to your ma. Tell her I’m sorry.”
    “She should hear that from you.”
    “I tried to tell her, but she doesn’t want to hear me out.”
    Jane sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell her.”
    “And … and ask her when I can come home.”
    She stared at him. “You’re kidding.”
    “What’s that look on your face?”
    “You expect Mom to let you move back in?”
    “Half the house is mine.”
    “You’ll kill each other.”
    “A bad idea to have your parents together again? What kind of thing is that for a daughter to say?”
    She took a deep breath, and when she spoke, it was slowly and clearly. “So you want to go back to Mom and be the way you were before. Is that what you’re saying?” She rubbed her temples. “Holy shit.”
    “I want us to be a family again. Her, me, you and your brothers. Christmas and Thanksgiving together. All those great times, great meals.”
    Mostly the great meals
.
    “Frankie’s on board,” he said. “He wants it to happen. So does Mike. I just need you to talk to her, because she listens to you. You tell her to take me back. Tell her it’s the way things were meant to be.”
    “What about Korsak?”
    “Who gives a shit about him?”
    “They’re engaged. They’re planning the wedding.”
    “She’s not divorced yet. She’s still my wife.”
    “It’s only a matter of paperwork.”
    “It’s a matter of
family
. A matter of
what’s right
. Please, Jane, talk to her. And we can go back to being the Rizzolis again.”
    The Rizzolis
. She thought about what that meant. A history. All the holidays and birthdays, together. Memories shared by no one else but them. There was a sacredness to that, something that should not be easily cast aside, and she was sentimental enough to mourn what had been lost. Now it could be reconstructed and made whole, Mom and Dad together again, as they’d always been. Frankie and Mike wanted it. Her dad wanted it.
    And her mother? What did she want?
    She thought of the pink taffeta bridesmaid’s dress that Angela had so happily presented to her. Remembered the last time she and Gabriel had gone to her mother’s house for dinner, when Angela and Korsak had giggled like teenagers and played footsie under the table. She looked across at her father and could not remember him ever playing footsie. Or giggling. Or slapping Angela’s butt. What she saw was a tired and beaten man who’d gambled on a flaky blonde and lost.
If I were Mom, would I take him back?
    “Janie? Talk to her for me,” he pleaded.
    She sighed. “Okay.”
    “Do it soon. Before she gets too tight with that jerk.”
    “Korsak’s not a jerk, Dad.”
    “How can you say that? He walked in and took what isn’t his.”
    “He walked in because there was a vacancy. You understand, don’t you, that things have changed since you left? Mom’s changed.”
    “And I want her back the way she used to be. I’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy. You tell her that. Tell her it’ll be just like old times.”
    Jane looked down at her watch. “It’s dinnertime. I’ve gotta go.”
    “You promise you’ll do this for your old dad?”
    “Yeah, I promise.” She slid out of the booth, glad to escape the dusty cushions. “Take care of yourself.”
    He smiled at her, the first smile she’d seen since she’d arrived, and a hint of Frank Rizzoli’s old cockiness returned. Dad, reclaiming his territory. “I will. Now that I know everything’s