Lost Pretense
Chapter Two: Unhealthy Pastimes
Rating: R (gonna do that to be on the safe side, applies to subject matter)
Word Count: 2,642
Disclaimer: I own Crossing Jordan. Um, right. That was a lie. I don't own anything. Except my own insanity. I can't even claim to own DVDs for Crossing Jordan.
Summary: He wasn't who everyone thought he was. He wasn't even who he thought he was.
Pairing: Woody/Jordan (kind of sort of)
Author's Note: Again, I'm still working on cleaning up old fics. Like Soulless and A Sort of Prologue, this has been around for a year. I've always liked this story, despite the fact that it hails from an even darker place in my mind than Soulless.

I'm posting two chapters of this right now because it is a Crossing Jordan fic, even if the first chapter doesn't necessarily seem that way.

Unhealthy Pastimes

"Two weeks after the tragic death of Detective Woodrow Hoyt, the trail of his killer has gone cold, but at last family and friends have gathered to mourn his loss. Hoyt, who had a distinguished career with the Boston Police department was behind the arrest of—"

"Turn it off," Jordan snapped angrily as she walked into the breakroom.

"Sorry, love," Nigel told her, rising to turn off the t.v. "Are you really sure that you should be here?"

She was aware that she looked like a mess. Her hair was falling out of its clips, her blouse was misbuttoned, and she could hardly see past her runny mascara. Plus, she was missing a shoe somehow. "Yes, Nigel. I need to be here. I need to do something."

He frowned at her. "Jordan—"

"It's not denial," she insisted quietly, looking down at her hands. She couldn't help staring at it. She'd been named the executor of Woody's will, and though there hadn't been many instructions, one had definitely surprised her. Jordan, I know things have been awkward between us. But not that I'm gone, I want you to take the ring you wouldn't take before. You don't have to wear it, but I've always wanted you to have this.

She wore it on the ring finger of her left hand. He'd been careful to assure her that it wasn't what she thought it was. It wasn't an engagement ring. Still, after J.D.'s death, she'd realized that no one could replace Woody in her heart. It was his, not that he'd tried to take it since her return from D.C. The band was warm, almost burning her skin. It told her that Woody was alive. Apart of him was there, with her.

"Really, Jordan? It's really not denial?"

"Please, don't start. I don't know that I'll ever really believe he's dead. I know it's not healthy, but that is how it has to be. Do you have an interesting case for me?" she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

Nigel sighed, but he gave in and nodded. "How about Andrea Knaub, 22, two shots to the chest?"

"What makes this so interesting?"

"She supposedly shot a cop two times in the back after he shot her."

"Ooh, that's exactly what I need," Jordan purred, heading into trace. Behind her, Nigel shook his head. She looked down at the body. "You sure the gunshots killed her? She's got a nasty bump on the back of her head."

"Could be, love," Nigel agreed. "All the more reason why it seems odd that she shot the cop."

Jordan shook her head sadly. "She was young."

"They always are, love," Nigel said. He was watching her closely, too closely. Jordan focused her attention back on the body. "Did you get much on trace?"

"Few fibers, not much. Andrea was apparently just out of the shower when this happened."

"So she showers, then lures a cop to her apartment and kills him?" Jordan asked dubiously. "Nigel, that story makes no sense at all. Look, she's got bruises on her ribs. They're older. She was beaten, probably about three weeks ago."

"Then she'd be scared. Maybe the cop was an abusive boyfriend?" Nigel offered.

"And she was waiting for him? I don't buy it," Jordan said firmly.

Nigel smiled. "And that is why we love you, Jordan. I'd say you're right. Her tox screen is negative. She was a user, but she's been clean for at least three months. I matched the gun to the bullets they took from the cop, who is in intensive care, but there wasn't any GSR on her hands."

Jordan blinked. "And they still think she shot him? There had to be someone else."

"Exactly," Nigel said in triumph. "Want to do the autopsy?"

"No surprise," Jordan said later, pulling off her gloves. She looked down at Andrea and sighed. Such a waste. "She died of the wound to the heart. It would have killed her instantly."

"So there's no way she shot the cop," Seely said, cursing. He had shown up halfway through the autopsy and refused to leave. She didn't know why he was here. "It had to be the bodyguard."

Jordan looked at him incredulously. "Andrea Knaub had a bodyguard?"

"According to regulars at the diner where she worked and her boss, yeah," Seely answered. He glanced at the woman on the table and back at Jordan. "Building super said he was her boyfriend, vice says he must have been her pimp."

That Jordan didn't agree with. "There was no recent sexual activity, consensual or otherwise. He wasn't her pimp. Probably not her boyfriend, either."

Seely shrugged. This case didn't interest him, not like it did Jordan. "According to the regulars and her boss, he was just protection. Treated her like a little sister. Supposedly, he was living with her, walked her to and from work, drank coffee for an hour at least to calm her down. She was scared of something, but no one knows who he was. She called him Will, but everyone agreed that wasn't his name."

"Did anyone know what frightened her?" Jordan asked, wishing Seely thought about more than a quick resolution to a case.

"No. She was a loser," Seely shrugged. "She was an addict. Maybe she was still paranoid."

"Did you at least get a description?"

"Blond, blue eyes, about six foot. He'd been in some sort of trouble, no one knows what. Bruises on his face, burns on his hands. Wouldn't be hard to find, you wouldn't think, but he seems to know something about going to ground. People only saw him at one of three places: the apartment, the diner, or the library, and he hasn't been there since Knaub turned up dead. I've got officers canvasing the area, but they'd probably miss him if they weren't paying attention," Seely told her. "We didn't get anything from the apartment. Couldn't even find proof that someone else was living there."

Jordan looked at Nigel. "I'm up for this if you are."

"This isn't healthy," Nigel warned, but he smiled. "I'll drive."

"The door was broken into," Seely explained to Jordan. "Knaub was in the back room when we found her, on the bed. Montelli was on the floor in the doorway. It looks like he shot through the door. His gun fired two shots, according to ballistics, they went into her. He was found with two shots in his back. Fired from the gun in her hand but not by her."

Jordan studied the bedroom door. "I don't think Montelli was aiming at the lock."

"There was another bullet here," Nigel said, indicating a spot in the wall. "We dug it out, and it matched Montelli's gun, but you think we missed something, don't you?"

"You did," Jordan pointed to the wall. "I'm betting that discoloration is blood. Our bodyguard was hit through that door."

"Any idea how badly?" Seely asked.

"Well... The velocity of the bullet was slowed by the wood, but not enough, because it still knocked him back into the wall. He must have been bracing the door, the shot hit him point blank. Could have killed him if it hadn't gone through the door first," Jordan said, thinking out loud. She looked around the room.

If Andrea had been asleep, and Montelli pounded on the door, then she and her boyfriend woke up. He got out of bed and went to the door...

No, that wasn't right. The sheets were still made underneath where Andrea's body had been. Neither of them had been asleep when Montelli got there. Andrea was just out of the shower. Her bodyguard pushed her into the room, shut the door behind them. Montelli broke in the front door, shot through the bedroom door, knocking the bodyguard out of the fight. Andrea had been...

Jordan knelt next to the bed and examined the floor with a flashlight. "He dragged her out of here. She was under the bed, and he threw her on to it."

"The crack on her skull," Nigel agreed.

"Then he shot her, and he started to leave," Jordan went on. "But the boyfriend recovered. He had a gun. He shot Montelli, put the gun in Andrea's hand and left. This was a hit. Montelli came here to kill her."

"Nice theory, Cavanaugh," Seely snorted. "But we're talking about a cop. Montelli probably thought he had a pimp or a drug addict behind that door, was forced to fire. Then the bodyguard shoots him and then he took care of the girl using Montelli's gun."

"Seely, I know you in the band of blue like to stick together, but I don't think you want to stick up for Montelli. He was probably crooked. Why did he break the door down? Why was he even here? Andrea Knaub wasn't a hooker anymore. She had been clean for three months. Her life was back together. You can't tell me a vice cop on the up and up could see her as a suspect in anything," Jordan argued, growing more passionate by the minute. Seely's head was up his ass as usual, and she did not want Andrea's killer to escape justice because of what Andrea used to be.

"The trajectory of the bullets is wrong," Nigel added. "The shots that killed Andrea came from the foot of the bed. If Montelli was already down, our killer would have stepped in blood. Instead, we couldn't even find evidence that he was here. And the bullets into Montelli came from an angle, from about where our bodyguard fell after he was hit."

"Look, Cavanaugh, a good cop is in the hospital dying, and some punk is out there, getting away with attempted murder. I'm going to find him," Seely said irritably, going out the door.

Jordan looked at Nigel. She knew Andrea Knaub would not get justice from Seely. "Why don't we talk to Andrea's boss?"

"I already talked to the cops," Mic Carlson said angrily. "I told them all I'm going to say."

Jordan nodded. " I know, Mr. Carlson, but it seems to me that you cared about Andrea. And you would want the truth about her killer to be known. Right now, the police think that there was another person in her apartment. They're saying that he shot Montelli and killed Andrea. That he was Andrea's pimp."

Mic slammed a tray of glasses onto the counter. Normally, he was a good natured man, but this business was making him sick. He pointed a finger in the girl's face. "You listen to me. Andrea was a good girl. Smart. She might have been in trouble like that before, but she was out. She was clean. I don't hire drug addicts, and I don't hire whores. She was neither. She was just putting her life back together. And he was helping her. That's all. He protected her, 'cause she was scared of something, really scared. But he was never her pimp."

"A boyfriend?"

Mic snorted derisively. No wonder the cops couldn't make sense of this. He doubted these two from the medical examiner's office would be any different. "He was more like a brother to her. Kid was a teddy bear where she was concerned. He was a little rough around the edges. Quiet most times, almost obsessed. He would do anything for her, though. He walked her here, sat with a coffee until she was comfortable, and then he chased his own demons. I don't know what they were, so don't bother asking. Point of fact, I don't think Will—I don't think that's even his name—knows what they were. But he always showed up on time to walk her home after her shift. He never tried to do anything to her, and she might have let him. No one else, but maybe him. She wasn't scared of him, and she would tremble when I raised my voice."

"Did he kill Montelli?"

She didn't pull her punches, this Jordan girl. Mic respected that. "Maybe."

"It doesn't make sense," Will whispered, seemingly unaware of the alcohol Mic was using to clean out the bullet wound. Kid was lucky it had gone through. "She was out. She was clean."

Mic knew the shock was talking. He doubted Will even realized he'd shot a cop earlier. "Listen, Kid, Andrea didn't tell you everything. It's as simple as that. She was a sweet girl, but we all knew she was scared. Montelli must have had a reason he wanted her dead, and it must have been big, or he wouldn't have tried to kill you, too."

Will stared dumbly at his gloved hands. "She didn't deserve this. She'd turned her life around."

"I know, Kid. We all know," Mic applied pressure to the wound, causing Will to look up for a change. "I did the best I could, but you need a doctor. I know you can't go to the hospital, but you take care of yourself out there, Will. Everyone knows you were her bodyguard. They'll know you shot Montelli."

Guilt flooded the kid's eyes again. "I've got nowhere to go."

He sounded so lost Mic wanted to tell him to stay where he was. He knew he couldn't. "What about that funeral tomorrow? Aren't you going to that?"

"I don't know, Mic. I don't know where I'm going. But thank you."

Mic looked back at the girl. Jordan was waiting, somehow expecting more. She knew Mic knew more than he was saying. "He was capable. He knew how to handle himself. And he did show his anger now and again, when someone threatened her or wouldn't back off. He was different when he was angry. Scary. Capable of any sort of violence."

"So he would have killed for her?"

"Will was a kid already eaten by guilt. If he shot Montelli, he didn't mean to, not for more than the second it took him. What everybody seems to be missing is that if Montelli was there, he was crooked. Andrea was clean. She never had a pimp. And Will wasn't her pimp. He... He didn't like to touch anyone. Didn't hardly take off those gloves of his, hated the sight of his hands. I remember when Andrea took of the bandages for the first time. He looked sick."

"Do you know anything else about him?" Jordan persisted. "Anything that could help us find him?"

Mic looked straight at her. "Why would I tell you?"

"Because the only thing between him and a firing squad as a cop killer is my theory that Montelli killed Andrea first. The detective thinks your friend staged both deaths."

"Not him. He wouldn't. You don't understand," Mic said angrily. "You people don't listen to one damn word, do you? Will couldn't hurt her. Whatever he might have been, he could never have hurt a woman."

"Why did he put the gun in Andrea's hand?" Jordan asked, still probing.

"He wasn't thinking clearly. He and Andrea were already afraid of the police. I thought Andrea was scared because of what she had been, but maybe it was more. Will... No one knows what his reasons were," Mic answered. "I don't know why he did it. Maybe he was hoping that the police would never realize he was there."

"Will was hiding something," Jordan insisted. She looked at her companion. He sighed. "Do you have any idea what it might have been?"

"No. Will didn't talk much. Let Andrea do that for him. Sometimes she said he was her brother, but he wasn't. Only thing I know is, he was obsessed with that explosion."

The tough girl act faded, and Jordan went white. "What explosion?"

"You know," Mic shot back, pleased to see a real reaction from her, "the one that killed that detective."