This time Nina is three people: Madmadambeth, CJfann, and NCCJFAN. We have worked on this critter since early summer, waaaaayyyyy long before the season premiere…

And it's finally finished. Hope you enjoy it as much as we enjoyed writing it. The more reviews we get the more inclined we'll be to write another.

Special thanks should go to Sherrbear who brought us together…

And…by the way … none of own anything to do with CJ. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero. However…if Tim Kring wants us to write the season finale, we're up to the job…

Chapter One

Skeletons in the Closet

It was hot and muggy, one of those nights that the air was so thick with moisture I knew the skies would open up any second. It was the perfect night for business. We sat in the utility truck outside the house on Grant Road with the lights off studying the facade of the house. It was just what it was...a facade. It may have looked like a fortress, but nothing could keep us out. It was our job and we're good at our job. I didn't need to look at the pictures lying on the seat between us to know that the woman fanning herself in front of the open living room window was Claire Rosen. I assume she would be calling beautiful, if you like that overblown Western look. Apparently, for wife number three, that's what Mr. Rosen wanted. Personally, I like them tall and slender, but it's not my place to make judgment. We just take care of the situations as they arise. A flash of heat lighting reminded me that we needed to get moving. Our employer was very specific on how he wanted this job carried out. I grabbed the bag and opened the driver's side door. I love hot muggy, weather. People would leave their doors and windows open welcoming in the slightest breeze in turn... making it so easy...

"Неопределены словари..." Let's go...

July, 1993

Eddie Winslow flapped a page in his notebook and yelled over to his partner, "Everything is closed up tight. There is no sign of forced entry. No prints to speak of. We're checking for signs of robbery now."

"It's too clean. I don't think you're going to find anything obvious. This was a hit."

"How can you be so sure? It was pretty messy for a hit. My money says we're looking at a botched robbery..."

After an hour at the scene Eddie was still regretting his Egg McMuffin breakfast. The Vicks he forced himself to slap underneath his nose wasn't helping much. He didn't need to look in a mirror to know his skin had a decided green tint to it. The only one that didn't seem to be thusly affected was his partner of six months, Lt. Max Cavanngh, and the ME called to the scene...but he doubted anything got to The Dragon Lady.

Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Rosen were not found until their cleaning lady showed up for work. Either the Rosen's were very clean people or Mr. Rosen was too cheap for full time help. The woman only came in twice a week. The ME's preliminary estimate TOD put them dead for at least three days. Three days locked up in a house with the temperatures hovering around eighty. It was days like this Eddie wondered why he didn't listen to his mother and become a stock broker.

"No, whoever did this wanted something," Max said kneeling next to the spot where Claire Rosen's bludgeoned body lay. The wedding picture on the mantel told Max that she had once been very lovely and very young, about Jordan's age. A shiver went up his spine. The carpet under her had once been a nondescript tan. It was now rusty with her dried blood. It was oblivious she had been bound and beaten. He'd be surprised if they found any signs of sexual assault. His gut told him they weren't looking at the handy work of some sick bastard...but a very cunning one.

"Why bind her and not the husband," Max continued pointing at the body of Daniel Rosen just past the archway in the other room. "If you're going for rape and robbery, why leave the husband mobile? The wife would know where the valuable are stored and she'd be easier to control. This was a torture. Whoever did this either wanted information or to send out a message. I want to know who the Mr. Rosen, Esquire, really worked for."

"...Detectives?"

"Max..." Eddie touched Max's shoulder turning their attention to the ME on the case. Eddie had learned quickly that Dr. Yakara was not one to be ignored for any length of time. He'd suck it up and play her game today. He wanted to get through this crime scene as soon as possible.

"Mr. Rosen was killed by a single gunshot to the back of the head. I'll know more once I'm allowed transport," Yakara reported almost daring them to question her at this point.

"...Good" Max replied. "I want a ballistics test run on that bullet as soon as possible..."

"Easier said then done," Yakara said cutting him off. "The bullet has been removed."

"Removed." Eddie repeated looking greener by the second.

"At first I thought the damage to the wound was just...decay. The more I looked the more suspicious I became."

"What are you saying?" Max asked.

"Whoever shot this man took the bullet with them."

The next few days brought a break in the weather as a cool front enveloped the Boston area. Everybody was relieved except Max. One by one, the forensic reports were returning on the Rosen case and they had nothing. Max had nothing except for a file full of usual suspects and nothing to pin them with. It didn't talk long to find out that Daniel Rosen, the escrow lawyer, actually worked for the Irish mob laundering racket money into real-estate. After asking around it was oblivious Rosen was looking to branch out his interests. He began to offer his services outside the family. Max suspected the Russians. With the fall of the Iron Curtain a couple of years prior, the Russian population had exploded in the Boston area ...along with the power of the Russian mob. There was a turf war heating up. Nothing overt, but the body count was starting to rise. Assumptions were all he had. They gave him nothing to go to the DA with and the clock was ticking.

He was mulling his theory over in his mind for the smallest detail when there was a knock on his door.

"Lt. Cavanaugh?"

"Yes."

"I'm Special Agent Burke with the FBI. I'm here about the Rosen murders." Max looked at the man's ID card and realized his week was going from bad to worse.

After a heated fifteen minute conference and one frantic phone call to his captain, Max knew he didn't have a choice but to turn play nice with the Federal Government. He knew it was just a waste of breath to try and convince his boss and Agent Burke there was more to this case than a forced Irish mob retirement. When he pressed Agent Burke about the Russians he only gave Max an obliviously rehearsed reply...

"What dealings the Rosen may or may not have had with the Russian community are totally irrelevant with this case..."

Max pulled what he hoped was a trump card. "Then why are the Feds stepping in on local jurisdiction!" He knew it was desperate...and so did Agent burke by the sympathetic smile on his face.

"I'll keep you updated when I can Lieutenant. Have a nice day."

The door was barely shut behind Agent Burke, when Max reached for the phone. By the time Winslow came back from his dinner break, Max had exhausted all his favors and contacts within the Federal Building and all he had to show for his effort was a sore ear and handful of strong suggestions to leave this one well enough alone. He bet his retirement fund that this case was far bigger than he first suspected.

Max was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice that Jordan had followed Eddie inside the door.

"What are you still doing here Max? I thought you would have gone home by now." Eddie asked quickly. When Max didn't answer right away Eddie pressed, "What's wrong? What happened?"

Jordan, who up to this point had been standing in the doorframe ready to make up some excuse and leave, walked over to her father's messy desk and its remarkably clean edge. As long as her father had a detective's desk, he made sure that same corner had always remained clear for one reason and one reason only. Jordan perched her hip on top.

"It's that case out in Brookline you were talking about last night. Isn't it Dad?"

Max looked up noticing Jordan for the first time. "When'd you get here?"

Jordan didn't chance looking over at Eddie who was trying to look busy at his own desk. She smiled. "A few seconds ago. I came to hang out and see if you have anything new to share on the case." Jordan smiled thinking that it wasn't really that far from the truth.

"Um," Max cleared his throat looking between his daughter and his partner. He felt awkward talking to Jordan about work...at work, even though they discussed the murders at length less then twenty fours before, over a bottle of scotch and homemade chocolate cake. "Ah, no. Actually, we've been pulled..."

"What!" Eddie exclaimed deciding to not look so indifferent. "What do you mean...pulled?"

"The Feds are taking over." Max shrugged.

"There's more to this case than meets the eye and they want it."

For all of Winslow's homicide rookie nativity, Max knew the younger man was thinking the same thing. Max never really spoke out loud his theories on this case being a Russian hit rather than Blackie Conroy and the rest of Cahill's organization cleaning shop.

"But it's your case!" Jordan exclaimed.

"You don't think I'm going to just lie down for this one...Do you darlin'?" Max smiled enigmatically.

Even though Agent Burke had taken the original file with him, he didn't know about the copy Max had in his desk. There was one thing Max Cavanaugh had learned after 30 years on the force. Cover your ass. Max stood up grabbing the copy out of his desk and his suit coat off the back of his chair.

"Did you drive sweetheart?"

"Ah, no..." she said nervously twisting her fingers together in her lap.

"Good. I'll give you a ride home," Max said walking around to take Jordan's hand. "Don't work to late Winslow. I'll see you first thing in the morning. I think we need to go have talk to an old friend of mine about his new neighbors."

Max almost smiled as Eddie and Jordan tried to cover their discomfort at being caught together. Almost. Max wasn't thrilled with the budding attraction developing between his new partner and his young daughter. It's not that Winslow wasn't a good man. It was that Jordan was destined for better things: a career as a heart surgeon and, God willing, a relationship with someone that didn't carry a gun for a living.

Max didn't give Jordan a chance to say anything herself and whisked her quickly out into the hallway. "I'm not going to ask if you've had dinner yet...but I hope you don't mind if we stop for a pizza on the way home."

Meanwhile out in the parking lot, two men sat in a nondescript sedan recording the comings and going in and out of the precinct doors. One checked his watch as Jordan and Max came out of the building, arm an arm, while the other pointed at them with a telephoto camera lens.

"Pretty girl." I commented something to that affect as they walked out of the police station. When she walked in with Det. Winslow we assumed she was his woman. But you can't assume in our business. Less then thirty minutes later she exited with the detective in charge. The information we had on Lt. Cavanaugh said he had a daughter. If this was the said daughter she could be very useful in controlling both men. I love convenience. It makes our job so much easier. This one was truly lovely. Not that buxom American idea of beauty, like Mrs. Rosen. This one was long and delicate like Russian ballerina. I said I hoped we wouldn't have to use such a creature. Even though we kill for a living, I don't find any enjoyment in the act itself and we never took a life unless necessary. We deal in a service. No more, no less. I looked at my watch one more time and started the car. Special Agent Burke would be enroute to his Chelsea home by now. We had approximately a fifteen minutes window to intercept him between the Federal Building and his wife and children. It was unfortunate she'd be a new widow by morning. There was no choice. Agent Burke had showed his hand to our employer. Our employer wasn't happy. I could only hope the man would not die in vain. Hopefully, at least for the pretty brunette, this next message would be received loud and clear...