Rizzoli and Isles overtime
Maura smoothed imaginary wrinkles and dust away from the top of the thin folder. The dust, she thought offhandedly, was not imaginary, at least. There are innumerable particles that the eye cannot see. The folder wasn't a pretense. It wasn't a lie to tell herself that, because Jane had asked for the results. They were inconsequential, and Jane wouldn't like that. Maura knew she could have told Jane that. She knew she could have simply sent the report up, rather than calling the detective down...