Chicago, 1943
It's late at night, and Little Jack, all of three years of age, is awakened by a sound.
He sits up in his bed. He knows his Mom is out tonight. Aunt Rose is having her baby now, and that's where Mom is, helping her, so Mom said.
And there that sound is again…
Little Jack gets out of bed, and follows that sound, all the way down to the basement.
It's scary as he steps hesitantly down the stairs to the basement. It sounds sort of like an animal; huffs, groans, and snarls.
And there…
He sees a feral face, like a lion, or bear…
…
Manhattan, 1996
Jack McCoy jerked awake, heart pounding in his ribcage.
Shit!
He threw the sheets back as he rolled out of bed.
That godawful nightmare again…
A few hours later, in his office at 1 Hogan Place, and the feeling of dislocation hadn't left him yet.
This, at least in part, was due to the fact that he was not yet quite used to his new Assistant, Jamie Ross.
Claire Kincaid had been his Assistant.
She had also been much more than that...
Claire was dead now, killed by a drunk driver. And Jack had spent these last few months in something that felt very much like free-fall.
But her death had nothing to do with the nightmare he'd had last night.
McCoy had been having that nightmare for about as long as he could remember.
"You okay, Jack?" Jamie Ross asked.
"Yeah…" McCoy roused himself. Nightmares and mourning notwithstanding, they had work to do.
"Fraser?" he asked.
"Think he's going to plead out," Jamie assured him. "Also, the Terry Marks case is heating up. Briscoe and Curtis may have found something…"
"Don't let them go in half-cocked," McCoy warned her. "I'm not in the mood to get perfectly good evidence tossed out because the detectives didn't get their ducks in a row before arresting the perp."
…..
"I'll pass the warning along," Jamie grinned. Before coming to the DA's Office, she had been a Defense Attorney, partnered with her ex-husband Neil Gorton.
She knew all about getting incriminating evidence tossed out.
That was when the phone rang.
"McCoy," Jack picked it up, smiling back at Jamie.
"Joe!" McCoy's smile grew broader, his dark eyes twinkling, he looked at Jamie, mouthed the words, my brother. "What occasion brings you to call me?"
Whatever Joe had to say drew those distinctive heavy black eyebrows down into a worried frown.
"How's Mom taking this? Yes…yes…I know. She's all right? Okay. The ME's on the case? Yes... I'll be down as soon as I can. See you there."
McCoy hung up, looking perplexed. He stood.
"I need to talk to Adam," he said.
"What's wrong?" Jamie stood too, alarm tingling down her spine as she followed her boss to his boss' office.
Fortunately, Adam Schiff was not engaged at the moment…
…..
"Come in, Jack," there was only one person of Adam Schiff's acquaintance who had such a peremptory style of knocking on a door.
Jack McCoy walked in, followed by Jamie Ross. Adam only had eyes for Jack right now. The District DA had learned, long ago, how to read the clues and tics in his colleague's body and facial language.
His Executive Assistant DA was…alarmed.
"Sit," Adam commanded. "And tell me what's wrong."
"Don't know where to start," McCoy sat, tried to settle himself.
"Don't know about you," Schiff spoke dryly. "But I generally find it easiest to start at the beginning."
That got the small smile he was looking for.
"You know my Mom," McCoy scratched the side of his head. "She's moving to a retirement community."
"So she's packing up the old homestead," Schiff nodded knowingly.
'Yeah…Pat and Joe helped her prepare the house for sale. They had to redo the basement. Last time the basement was worked on was when I was little, around three, I think."
"So it's time for a basement redo. What happened?"
"They dug up the basement," McCoy sighed and bowed his head. Then he looked up again.
"They found a body."