The Surgeon (40 page)

finally ended up where I am now: the homicide unit. It's a boy's
club. I get it.
Still, it gets old, having to prove myself again and again. I hate
whiners, so you'll never hear me complain. Whining doesn't
get you anywhere, not with the guys in my unit. Not with guys
anywhere, for that matter.
My philosophy for success? Make every perp hunt personal.
Get angry, never give up, and for god's sake, wear flats to a
scene. You'll never catch anyone if you're wearing high heels.
DR. MAURA ISLES
Forensic pathologist, Medical Examiner's office,
Commonwealth of Massachusetts
I want to believe that there is a scientific explanation for
everything that happens. It isn't fate that sends a bicyclist flying
over the handlebars to her death; it's because her front tire hit
a frost heave and kinetic energy took over. Fate has nothing to
do with it. Death is not a mystical process; it is organic. I find
that comforting.
I knew, from an early age, that I was something of an odd
duck. I was the child who hid out in her room for hours,
reading, the child who dissected her dead pet mouse. I was
the scholar, the accomplished pianist, the honor student. My
parents understood that I was different, and although they
were not people who'd crow loudly about anything, I always
knew they were proud of me.

My devotion to logic and science drew me to the study of
medicine. But soon after I began medical school, I realized
that I wasn't meant to work with living patients. I wasn't good at
holding their hands, at ferreting out the unspoken emotional
clues in their voices when they told me of their aches and
pains. I can analyze x-rays and blood chemistries, I can slice
open muscles and organs, but I possess no scalpel with which
to dissect human emotions.
So I became a forensic pathologist.
Boston is my home now. These cold New England winters suit
me, as does my job as medical examiner. But I have little in
common with the Boston PD detectives with whom I work. I
think some of them may even be afraid of me, because I see
their wary glances and hear their whispers as I walk past. And
I know what they call me behind my back:
"The Queen of the Dead."

Presenting a sneak peek at the script for the pilot episode of
Rizzoli & Isles
The new TNT drama based on
Tess Gerritsen's Rizzoli & Isles novels
Premiering July 2010 on TNT
Starring Angie Harmon as Jane Rizzoli
and Sasha Alexander as Maura Isles

EXEC. PRODUCER: BILL HABER
EXEC. PRODUCER: JANET TAMARO
CO-EXEC. PRODUCER: JEFF HAYES
Rizzoli & Isles
"See One. Do One. Teach One."
Written by
Janet Tamaro
Directed by
Michael M. Robin
All rights reserved. � 2009 Warner Horizon Television Inc. This script is the
property of Horizon Scripted Television Inc. No portion of this script may be
performed, reproduced or used by any means, or disclosed to, quoted or
published in any medium without the prior written consent of Warner Bros.
Entertainment Inc.
EXT. WEST ROXBURY MANSION / INT. MAURA'S CAR -NIGHT (INTERCUT)
DET. DARREN CROWE, 30s. He has a frat boy's insouciance and an aging
ballplayer's good looks. He stands on the lawn of a mansion as CRIME
SCENE UNIT (CSU) TECHS and BOSTON P.D. UNIFORMS SWARM in and out
of a renovated mansion.
Maura pulls the SL-500 into a long driveway, parks next to a van:
Commonwealth of Massachusetts, Office of the Chief Medical Examiner . TWO
MORGUE ATTENDANTS nod at her.
REPORTERS and CAMERA CREWS work the taped-off crime scene, hovering

as close as COPS will let them.
ANGLE ON: REPORTER KITTY VANSEN, 30s, TV-pretty, as she SPIES Maura.
She PUSHES her beleaguered CAMERAMAN.
KITTY
Go, go. It's the coroner.
Maura, with her medical case, deftly moves away from Kitty as she shoves a
mic at Maura.
KITTY (CONT'D)
Dr. Isles �What can you tell us about the murders?
MAURA
I'll have a statement for you later tonight, Kitty.
Crowe puts out a hand to stop Kitty.
KITTY
If I was a corpse, she'd talk to me.
PATROL OFFICER CASEY JONES, 30s is stationed at the front door with a
clipboard.
OFFICER JONES
Evening, Dr. Isles.
MAURA
Hello, Casey. Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner.
He writes this down as she enters. Crowe applies chapstick and turns back to
Kitty.

CROWE
C'mon, it's your lucky day.
Kitty motions for her cameraman to set up to interview Crowe.
CROWE (CONT'D)
Can't say this on camera, but we call Dr. Isles "Queen of the Dead."
JANE (0. S.)
What's that, Crowe?
ANGLE ON Jane as she POWERS toward them. She STEPS between Crowe
and Kitty, BLOCKS the cameraman's shot of Crowe.
CROWE
Jeez, take a Midol.
JANE
Commander cleared you?
CROWE
What's it to you?
JANE
It's my case.
CROWE
Since when? I'm up. I got clearance. Move.
JANE
Not anymore. I just talked to the Commander. Where's Frost?

CROWE
Losin' his lunch, where else?
ANGLE ON DET. BARRY FROST, late 20s. He's trying to cover the fact that he's
puking into the bushes.
CROWE (CONT'D)
You two are a pair.
JANE
We ate at Ye Old Mill Grill. Probably had bad fish sticks.
CROWE
He shoulda stayed in Robbery. Hangnails make him gag. Guy gives us a bad
name.
Crowe throws a bullshit-friendly WAVE at Frost.
JANE
Leave him alone.
Frost approaches, embarrassed. Crowe feigns concern.
CROWE
You okay, buddy?
FROST
Oh, yeah. Fine. Something I ate.
JANE
Where's the crime scene?
CROWE

CROWE
Follow your nose. Might bring back some memories.
JANE
What's that supposed to mean? Crowe flashes a tight smile.
CROWE
You'll see. Have fun, Rizzoli.
As they move toward Officer Jones, Jane RUBS her hands.
FROST
Hands hurt?
JANE
It's gonna rain.
Jane checks in with Officer Jones.
JANE (CONT'D)
Rizzoli. Homicide 825.
OFFICER JONES
You going back for more, Frost?
INT. WEST ROXBURY MANSION -FOYER -NIGHT
Jane and Frost stand in a marble entry, stare at a vast home. Polished, old
wood, cathedral-height ceilings.
JANE
Not in South Boston anymore, Dorothy.
DET. VINCE KORSAK, 50s, doughy in his shirt sleeves and breathing hard,

appears from another part of the house.
JANE (CONT'D)
Korsak?
Korsak EYES Frost, not happy to see him.
JANE (CONT'D)
Thought you were on vacation.
KORSAK
Cut it short.
Korsak looks intently at Jane. She senses something more than just antipathy
toward Frost.
JANE
That bad?
KORSAK
Worse.
Jane hands Frost a tin of Vicks VapoRub. He rubs some under his nose.
Korsak starts back into the house.
JANE
Will you be okay this time?
FROST
Oh, yeah. Long as my upper lip smells like eucalyptus, I can look at anything.
INT. WEST ROXBURY MANSION -GREAT ROOM -LATER
CLOSE ON body of the bound man we saw earlier. No sign of the woman. His

throat is SLIT, and he's seated, propped against a wall under a comet's tail of
dried BLOOD. Frost gags.
FROST
Oh, man...
Maura MEASURES the depth of the wound with a steel M.E. ruler. Frost turns
away, GAGS again.
MAURA
Almost 15 centimeters.
FROST
If you got this, I can start processing the rest of the house.
Jane nods sympathetically. Frost exits. Korsak smirks.
MAURA
Carotid artery and jugular have been transected. What's odd is how precise it
is.
JANE
Can you tell what kind of knife was used?
Maura frowns then looks up and studies Jane's broken nose.
MAURA
Hairline fracture of the nasal bone above the lateral nasal cartilage. Not
disfiguring.
Korsak looks at the corpse, confused.
KORSAK

Looks pretty disfiguring to me.
JANE
Can you pop it out?
Maura pulls off her gloves. Korsak watches, baffled.
MAURA
Can't you do something safe like yoga? Might hurt a little �
Maura POPS Jane's nose into place. An audible CRACK!
JANE
Ow! A`little'?
MAURA
Put ice on it for the next 24 hours so you don't look like Mike Tyson.
JANE
You've been talking to my mother.
Jane SCANS photos of a bride and groom on a baby grand. She
absentmindedly touches the piano, PLAYS a few notes of the haunting song,
Falling Slowly.
JANE (CONT'D)
Needs tuning. Nobody plays.
KORSAK
Victim is Dr. Martin Yeager, 34. Wife Gail is missing.
Jane STUDIES a photo of the bride showing off a diamond ring.
JANE

JANE
Diamond was too small so she whacked him and walked out?
KORSAK
Un-uh. Got signs of forced entry.
Jane squats next to the body. Her face takes on a haunted look as she LIFTS
pieces of a broken china cup and saucer.
JANE
Well-to-do couple. The man bound and posed. The woman missing. And a
teacup.
QUICK POP: CLOSE ON FLASH of steel as a SCALPEL SKEWERS
something to a dirt floor. It's dark and quick. But it looks like someone has
driven THE SCALPEL through a WOMAN'S HAND.
BACK TO SCENE
Jane squeezes her hands into fists, breathes hard.
JANE (CONT'D)
Is he out? Is the Surgeon out?
MAURA
Oh my God. Korsak?
KORSAK
No. He's not out. It's his M.O. that's all.
MAURA
Why didn't you warn us? Warn Jane at least.
KORSAK

I needed your unbiased assessment. It looks like Hoyt, right?
JANE
Korsak �
The air is thick with what each is biting back.
JANE (CONT'D)
We put that son of a bitch behind bars. How is this possible?
KORSAK
It's not. I checked with prison authorities: he's in lockdown.
Jane TRADES a LOOK with Maura. Walks to the victim. CLOSE ON red circular
marks on the corpse's skin. She GASPS.
JANE
These are stun gun marks. Like Hoyt's victims.
KORSAK
Any sick perp could do this if he watched TV news or read a paper.
We've got a copycat.
JANE
We didn't release this detail. Hoyt's trained an Apprentice.

ABallantine Book
Published by The Ballantine Publishing Group
Copyright � 2001 by Tess Gerritsen
Jacket design: Jae Song
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright
Conventions. Published in the United States by The Ballantine Publishing
Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in
Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.
Ballantine is a registered trademark and the Ballantine colophon is a
trademark of Random House, Inc.
www.ballantinebooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Gerritsen, Tess.
The surgeon / Tess Gerritsen.
p.   cm.
1. Police--Massachusetts--Boston--Fiction. 2. Serial murders--Fiction. 3.
Boston (Mass.)--Fiction. I. Title.
PS3557.E687 S87 2001
813'.54--dc21
2001035901
eISBN: 978-0-345-44943-6
v3.0