Jordan stared across the table at Mac's face. Her interview with Flack the day before had brought back memories of two years ago. She had remembered going over evidence with him in his office, with him explaining the science as they went. She had been amazed at the details of it, at how much information they could reveal with so few clues. She had enjoyed spending time with him, even if the circumstances were less than pleasant. As soon as she saw him smile, she began putting effort into making him laugh. The first time he joked with her, she nearly fell off her chair.

Those memories had made her feel bad about the cold way she had treated him. That, plus Flack's admonishment, had made her decide to be more civil in spite of herself. What she was hearing now, however, was making her regret that decision.

"So you're telling me that someone wanted to kill me?"

In front of her was an assortment of pictures, showing the gun and wallet of the victim, the circled photo of her, and the back of the business card with the time and location. Mac had decided not to tell her about her father's involvement. They still weren't sure about his connection.

"The evidence is showing us that John Dorin was in that alley waiting for you." He pulled out a mug shot of the victim. "Are you sure you've never met this guy?"

She shook her head, obviously not quite grasping the entire situation. "No, I told you before, I've never even seen him before. And why do you think he was after me?"

Despite having explained it already, Mac gestured to the evidence. "He had that exact location written down, along with the approximate time of day you go running there." He gave her a stern look. "Which I know was about the same every day."

She ducked her head a bit at his discovery of her lie. He picked up another picture and continued. "He had a photo in his pocket, specifically yours was circled. He was carrying a 9mm handgun. There's evidence that he waited almost thirty minutes." He lowered his head to make eye contact with her. "Jordan, we believe this is serious. This is what we call a credible threat. Someone was trying to kill you."

She shook her head again. "But he's dead, right? I mean, that other guy, the sad guy with the jacket, he killed him. Didn't he? So it's over, right? That's the end of it."

Mac felt his stomach sink at what he now had to tell her. "Jordan. Someone gave that information to John Dorin. Someone else is pulling the strings, and I don't believe that he will stop now that this man is dead. I believe that this person, whoever it is, will try again."

Her head snapped up at his statement. "Wait, you're telling me that they are still out there? Do you know who it is? Who wants me dead?"

Mac sighed. "We're not sure at this point in time. That's why it would be helpful if you could help identify how John Dorin is connected to you."

"I don't know! I've never met that guy, I don't know where he's from! The only time I ever saw him was when he was killed! And you told me that I almost saw him right before he shot me."

She shoved back from the table and stood up, pacing side to side across from him. Flack made a move to stop her but she skirted away from him into the opposite corner. Mac stayed in his seat and watched her, motioning Flack to return behind him.

"Look Jordan, I understand that this is difficult…"

She abruptly stopped short and whirled to face him, smacking her hand on the table to cut him off. She was shaking slightly with adrenalin, but he could tell that she was more scared than angry.

"No, Mac. You have no idea how difficult this is. I get a call from an officer, who tells me I gotta come down and make a positive ID. I get here, and instead of making an ID and being done, you tell me that the person I saw shot dead two days ago was in fact trying to kill me. So now, I'm caught between being terrified that I almost died and feeling guilty that I'm glad the guy who was going to do it is now dead. And now, someone is still trying to kill me, but you have no idea who it is! So no, Mac, you don't know how difficult this is for me." She shoved the table and resumed her agitated pacing.

Mac pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to forget how tired he was. "I'm sorry for what you've had to go through, but you have to understand that we're doing everything we can to find whoever it is that wants to hurt you."

"Wants to kill me, you mean."

Mac sighed. "Yes. But we're going to make sure that doesn't happen. You'll be protected."

Jordan finally stopped moving, standing in the corner breathing heavily from her exertion. "How?"

"We'll assign a protection detail…"

"No, I mean, how are you going to make sure it doesn't happen? How can you protect me from whoever it is, when you don't even know who it is? It could be anybody."

Mac shifted back in his seat and deliberated his next words. Before he could form them, she suddenly understood.

"Wait, you're not going to let me leave, are you? That's why you had me come all the way down here instead of showing me a photo. You're going to keep me here."

"Jordan, at this point we can't risk letting you go home without having some idea of who's after you." He could see that she was beginning to panic.

"No, Mac! No! I'm not going to be locked away like money in a safe, while whoever is trying to kill me gets to roam all over New York. It's not happening!"

She surprised him and Flack by suddenly pushing past them and out the door. Flack made a grab for her, but was too far away. Mac quickly pushed out of his chair and followed her as she ran through the maze of desks in the precinct. He caught her arm right before she reached the door.

"Jordan, listen to me! Your life is in danger. This is serious! You can't go out there, its too dangerous. I can protect you if you'll just…" His last words were too much, and he saw the change come over her face. All that had happened was too much for her to handle and the stress caused her to lash out.

"You can't protect anyone, Detective." She sneered out the word. She grabbed the wrist that was holding her arm and pulled his face in until it was inches away from hers. She hissed out her next words so only he could hear. "Jason died because of you. You couldn't protect him, and you can't protect me." She yanked her arm from his grasp while he was stunned by her statement and ran out the door.

It took a moment for him to recover, then he quickly followed her out. She lost a few seconds debating whether to go left or right. He had almost reached her when she took off running down the left sidewalk from the precinct. She had only taken a few steps when glass burst out of the squad car parked in the street a few feet in front of her, and the officer walking beside it jerked and fell to the ground. A moment later, everyone heard the sharp crack of a rifle report. The officers on scene moved in drilled coordination, quickly moving and covering for panicking civilians and ducking for cover.

Jordan stood still, stunned into motionlessness by the sight of the officer on the ground in front of her. Mac had difficulty moving through the people between him and her, forgoing protocol to make sure she was safe. He called her name, trying to get her to duck behind the car. He ran up behind her as she turned toward the sound of his voice. As he reached for her arm, he saw her jerk back and fall, simultaneous with the burn he felt crease his forearm. She jerked again before landing behind the car. He pulled his gun to cover them, but before he could duck behind the cruiser, he felt a massive impact slam into his left bicep. He simultaneously fell and dove behind the car, covering Jordan without directly landing on her.

A quick glance at the officer lying on the sidewalk showed that he was breathing, albeit painfully. The young man was on his back, service pistol in one hand while the other was holding his chest beside where the bullet had impacted his Kevlar vest.

Mac pulled himself into a sitting position behind the wheel of the cruiser, gun held tightly in his right hand. He risked a glance over the hood and was rewarded with two return shots, one thudding into the hood of the car and the other shattering the side mirror, scattering bits of glass over him. He turned to Jordan, who had pushed herself over until she was lying on her left side, feet towards him. He kept his head down and moved over beside her. Her face was pinched and pale, her right arm was tightly curled into her ribs, and her left hand was pressed to her opposite shoulder.

He carefully rolled her onto her back to assess the damage. She had taken two shots; one was a through and through to the muscle of her shoulder, which had grazed his forearm as it passed. The other had impacted underneath her collarbone, and he suspected it was lodged in her shoulder blade. He checked the scene, noticing the cluster of six or seven officers spread around, and holstered his weapon. He pressed the heel of his right hand down hard on her shoulder, trying to stem the blood flow. She made a strained noise as he pressed down.

He was looking around for something to absorb the blood when he felt a hand grip his shoulder. He looked down into Jordan's terrified eyes and felt everything melt away. He could no longer hear the blaring sirens, the people screaming behind him, the officers yelling. He couldn't feel the sluggish flow of blood down his own arm. He couldn't see the officer lying only a few feet away, or watch as Flack organized the officers behind him.

He could only hear the strained breathing of the girl on the ground in front of him, he could only feel the pulse of her heart pushing blood past his fingers. He could only see the tears track down her smudged face, watch the terror in her eyes. She gripped him tight, where his neck met his shoulder, as if he were the only thing keeping her alive. He could only hold on.