A/N: Sorry, but no Luke, Noah or Rose in this chapter. This is all Jack, though, obviously it does relate to the plot. So please enjoy, and I promise to have more of our boys as well as Rose in the next chapter!!

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"Yeah thanks," Jack mumbled into the phone before hanging it up and setting it beside him on the kitchen table. He glanced down at the notes beside him, scanning over all the information as well at the flight schedule he'd arranged.

"Alright, everything's packed," Carly said sullenly, walking into the kitchen and sliding her arms around his shoulders, "Are you sure you have to go there yourself? Why can't you send someone?"

"Because I don't trust anyone else with this," Jack replied, tilting his head back to kiss her softly on the lips, "I'm going to prove Rose is innocent, and I don't trust anyone else to do a good thorough investigation of this when we already have a suspect. Most people would take that as case-closed."

Carly nodded, and gestured towards the suitcase next to door as he stood, embracing her, "Everything's there for a two-day trip. Do you think that will be long enough?"

Jack nodded, pulling back as he grabbed the papers from the table and folded them carefully, "It should be. I found his wife, and she said that he's out of town. Perfect cover for the murder, in my opinion. But she gave me the name of the hotel and his room number. I called to confirm he was there, but I'll need to go there in person to do a thorough investigation of it. I already called the police station there, and they're keeping an eye on him from afar to make sure he doesn't try to run for it."

"Well be careful," Carly added, leaning up to give him a quick peck before he started towards the door.

"I will," Jack promised, gathering his suitcase and making his way to the car.

Hours later, he stepped out of a cab in New York City, handing a roll of bills to the driver and walking up the sidewalk to his destination. He checked into the hotel, the same one that "Rusty," whom he found out was really named Richard White from his wife, was staying at. Dropping his bags into his room, he decided the first place to start would be the front desk.

Flashing his police badge at the man behind the desk, he leaned forward, "Is a Richard White staying here in this hotel?" he asked in an authoritative voice.

The man nodded, "Yes, he is," he said, going slightly pale.

Ignoring the man's discomfort, Jack continued, "When did he first check in?"

He could see the man trying to decide whether or not to release the information, but fortunately, the man wasn't a brave one, and didn't want to give any hardships to the police officer; that or he had a bad history he didn't want to be uncovered by such a frivolous thing, "Exactly three weeks ago."

"And he's back every night? Has he not come back to his room on any nights?" Jack asked, but the man only stared at him.

"I really don't know, Officer," he said, shaking his head, "But you might ask the bartender. He and Mr. White usually have a drink every night when his shift ends."

"Thank you for your cooperation," Jack said formally, nodding his head towards the man before he turned on his heel and strode towards the bar at the opposite end of the lobby. He pushed open the double oak doors, and was met with a darkness illuminated by black lights. He squinted and blinked a few times before his eyes adjusted, then his gaze finally found a man pouring drinks behind the bar.

He flashed the badge again and leaned against the bar, "Do you have a minute?" he asked, nodding towards a table in the corner.

The man only glanced at him for a moment before returning to the drinks, "I'll meet you over there in a minute; I have to finish these drinks," he muttered in a rough voice.

Deciding that he needed to stay on the man's good side in order to get any information, he simply nodded and walked over to the table, falling down into one of the chairs as he watched the man. He was bald, and had a mustache and beard that looked unclean, as though he'd simply forgotten to shave for the past couple of weeks. The man mixed two more drinks and poured them into their respective glasses, sliding them down the bar to his customers. Then he wiped his hands on a rag that looked as though it would only make his hands dirtier, then made his way casually to the table, not catching Jack's eye until he sat in the chair across from him.

"Now how can I help you?" he asked impatiently, drumming his fingers on the table.

Jack glared at his hand for a moment, and the man took the hint and stopped the annoying sound, though he still looked at Jack as though he shouldn't be allowed in his bar, "Do you know a Richard White? He may go by Rusty."

The man nodded, "Yeah, I know a Rusty," he said simply, apparently trying to be as difficult as he could with the subject.

"Do you see him often?" Jack pressed, but the man only nodded, not speaking another word as he leaned back and crossed his arms, "Alright, let me rephrase. When do you see him? Where do you see him? For what reason? And how often exactly?"

The bartender just stared at him for a moment, and Jack could tell that he was trying to find a way to weasel around the questions, but finally gave up, "Around five o'clock when my shift ends; here in the bar; we have a few drinks together; and every night since he came to stay at the hotel three weeks ago."

"Have there been any nights you haven't seen him? Or that he was unusually late?" Jack asked.

"Nope; he's been here every night. Usually gets here 'bout half an hour before I get off, actually," he said confidently, as though he were extremely proud of the fact.

"Are you completely sure?" Jack asked, letting out a breath as he closed his eyes, "Particularly the night of August 17th?" he asked, naming the day that the murder had happened.

The man pursed his lips, apparently thinking harder, "Nope, he was here then too. I remember; that was the only night I had to practically drag him back to his room. That one can drink, I'll you that much. Now is there anything else I can help you with, Officer?" he spat the last word, but Jack was too disgruntled to reprimand him for the lack of respect.

"No, get back to your job," Jack muttered coldly, pressing his palms against his closed eyelids as the man made his way back to his place behind the bar.

"Hey, Rusty!" the bartender's voice echoed and Jack glanced up to see him beckoning a man over to him. He glanced towards Jack, whispering something to Rusty, and then Rusty glanced back at him as well.

The bartender seemed annoyed, but Rusty looked as though he just wanted to get whatever this was over with, so he didn't even wait for Jack to come and get him, but just strode over to the table and sat down across from him, "You need something with me?" he asked sourly.

"I'd just like to ask you a few questions," Jack replied. Rusty waved his hand in a gesture for him to continue, and Jack questioned him for at least half an hour. Everything he said passed, and matched the what the bartender had told him, except for the part about August 17th, which Rusty said was a little fuzzy between arriving at the bar and waking up the next morning, but Jack accounted this to what the bartender had said about having to drag Rusty back to his room. Jack dismissed him and Rusty went back to talk with the bartender.

Sighing slightly, Jack pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and took out a pen, glancing down at the only leads he had been given on the case.

Charlene Wilson - Deceased

Col. Mayer - Deceased

Richard "Rusty" White - Cleared

Rose Genness - Key suspect

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A/N: Ah yes, so Rusty is innocent! What next? Did Rose actually do it? Or was it the ghost of Charlene or Mayer?? Now, you know me better than to think I'll tell you that, don't you? Please leave ma a review and I promise to update faster!!