When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang


After what was possibly the worst day of her life, Maura sat in her house, alone, staring at the telephone. She tried to organize her thoughts into something coherent, and realized this was the sort of day where she would find comfort at the Dirty Robber, sitting with Jane and laughing about the horrors of their shared day. She couldn't do that today. A craving to talk to someone, but not anyone, was undeniable. Slowly, inexorably, she reached out for her phone and dialed a number that she had long since memorized.

The phone picked up. "Hello, are you busy?"


Frank Rizzoli liked his house, he liked his life, and he liked things they way they were. Life was life for a reason, and what it all meant, well, that was someone else's job. Frank's job was to be a good plumber, a good husband and a good father. He liked to tell himself that he was good at all three of those things, even though work was sparse, he fought with his wife sometimes, and his children, well. One was out of jail and two were in the hospital. Frank Rizzoli was not ashamed to pray, in this moment.