The Mephisto Club: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel: A Novel
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Evil exists. Evil walks the streets. And evil has spawned a diabolical new disciple in this white-knuckle thriller from New York Times bestselling author Tess Gerritsen.
The Latin word is scrawled in blood at the scene of a young woman’s brutal murder: I HAVE SINNED. It’s a chilling Christmas greeting for Boston medical examiner Maura Isles and Detective Jane Rizzoli, who swiftly link the victim to controversial celebrity psychiatrist Joyce O’Donnell–Jane’s professional nemesis and member of a sinister cabal called the Mephisto Club.
On top of Beacon Hill, the club’s acolytes devote themselves to the analysis of evil: Can it be explained by science? Does it have a physical presence? Do demons walk the earth? Drawing on a wealth of dark historical data and mysterious religious symbolism, the Mephisto scholars aim to prove a startling theory: that Satan himself exists among us.
With the grisly appearance of a corpse on their doorstep, it’s clear that someone–or something–is indeed prowling the city. The members of the club begin to fear the very subject of their study. Could this maniacal killer be one of their own–or have they inadvertently summoned an evil entity from the darkness?
Delving deep into the most baffling and unusual case of their careers, Maura and Jane embark on a terrifying journey to the very heart of evil, where they encounter a malevolent foe more dangerous than any they have ever faced . . . one whose work is only just beginning.
From the Hardcover edition.
stairs. No time to fool with money. Jump the turnstile! She scrambled over it, and her wet sock slapped down onto the pavement. Two steps, and she skidded to a stop. Jane Rizzoli was standing right in front of her. Lily spun around, back toward the turnstile she’d just jumped. A cop stood barring her escape. Frantically she gazed around the station, looking for the creature that had pursued her, but she saw only startled commuters staring back at her. A handcuff closed over her wrist.
She sat in Jane Rizzoli’s parked car, too exhausted to think of trying to escape. The wet sock felt like a block of ice encasing her foot, and even with the heater running, she could not get warm, could not stop shaking. “Okay, Lily,” said Jane. “Now you’re going to tell me the truth.” “You won’t believe the truth.” “Try me.” Lily sat motionless, tangled hair spilling across her face. It didn’t matter anymore. She was so tired of running. I give up. “Where is Dominic?” asked Jane. “He’s
weird.” “But do you consider him a suspect?” After a pause, Jane admitted, “No. And if I did, it would present problems.” “What do you mean?” “Gabriel tried to do a little digging for me. He called around to find out more about the guy. All he did was ask a few questions, and suddenly doors slammed shut. The FBI, Interpol, no one wanted to talk about Sansone. Obviously he has friends in high places who are ready to protect him.” Maura thought of the house on Beacon Hill. The butler, the
delusion.” “Doc?” said Jane. Maura had not heard her come back into the room. Jane was standing in the doorway, holding her cell phone. “Can you come into the kitchen? We need to talk in private.” Maura rose and followed her up the hallway. “What is it?” she asked as they stepped into the kitchen. “Could you arrange to take the day off tomorrow? Because you and I need to go out of town tonight. I’m going home to pack an overnight bag. I’ll be back to pick you up around noon.” “Are you telling
like a suicide?” “It’s my job to ask,” said Jane. “I would have.” Yes, she would have, thought Maura, looking at Jane’s unyielding expression and remembering the relentless questions that had been asked of her yesterday morning. No mercy, no holding back. God help you if Jane Rizzoli decides you’re guilty of something. Maura looked down at the photo of Peter Saul. “There’s no picture of Lily. We don’t know what she looks like, either.” “Actually, there is a photo,” said Sansone. “And you’ll