Sheldon Hawkes stared at the scanner results and sighed. Jordan's shoulder had been torn apart. He found it miraculous that her bones were still intact, but the muscles were another story. She would be in pain for weeks, plus several months of physical therapy afterwards. He looked across autopsy at the table where she was lying. Sid had given her a sedative to ensure that she would sleep, and he was currently hooking up another bag of saline solution that the paramedics had sent to her IV.
Hawkes stared at the rifle bullet in the evidence container. He knew that he should rush the bullet to ballistics, but he was having a difficult time moving past the fact that he had pulled it out of an eighteen-year-old girl. It was moments like this that made him remember why he had left his job at the hospital. Sid walked up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"You ok?"
Hawkes nodded. "I just don't understand, Sid. What could she have possibly done to make someone do this?" He gestured to the scan of her injured arm. Sid pulled his glasses apart, connecting them again in front of his eyes.
"It certainly speaks to some sort of retribution. Maybe she saw something that she wasn't meant to. Is it in any way connected to the shooting of John Dorin, from two days ago?"
"Nah, the pieces don't fit. That was a robbery gone bad, plus the killer was dead at the time of this shooting."
Sid nodded. "Well, with the lack of any additional evidence, I can only say that it must go back to knowledge of some sort. She evidently knows something that is worth killing for, at least in the mind of the shooter. She may not even be aware of what the information is." He patted Hawkes' shoulder. "I don't think that was what you wanted to hear."
He smiled gratefully at Sid. "The only thing I want to hear right now is that she's safe to go home." They both turned to look at her as she slept, her pale skin eerily similar to the normal morgue occupants. The only difference in this one was the steady rhythm of her breathing as she slept. Sid was the first to break the silence.
"Did you know her before, from two years ago?"
Hawkes shook his head. "It wasn't my case. I saw her once in Mac's office, but I never spoke to her until today."
Sid turned to lean against the table. "That's what's puzzling me. What is her connection to Mac? No one seems to know."
"I'm the last person to ask, Sid. All I know is that Mac got close to her because she was helping in a case. I always thought there might have been something else, but I could never figure out what it was."
Sid pushed off the table, tapping the monitor to bring up a set of pictures. "Well, Mac definitely got close today. Based on Jordan's height and the angle of this through-and-through," he tapped a photo of Jordan's shoulder, then pulled up a picture of Mac's forearm "the trajectory is a match to the bullet that grazed Mac's arm."
"See, that's what worries me, Sid. Mac told me that a passing officer took one round in his vest, plus the bullet that went through Mac's arm proves that this guy is willing to shoot anyone, including cops, to hit his target."
Sid nodded and pulled up another picture, this one a wide shot of Jordan's bullet wounds. "And I can tell you this, based on the multiple shots and wide range of hits, this guy is not a professional. This time of year, sitting out in the cold and then firing a gun on a windy day, it isn't as easy to hit a moving target as you might think. I would be willing to speculate that our shooter is a skilled marksman, but not experienced in combat or even hunting, based on the mere fact that Jordan survived two shots."
Hawkes nodded, getting more energetic as he processed Sid's theory. "So we may be looking at someone who would spend time at a gun range, rather than real life experience. That's good thinking, Sid. That, combined with whatever I can get off this bullet, may lead us to our shooter. I'll get this to ballistics."
He started to rush out, like he always would do when discovering evidence from an autopsy, then remembered that this victim was still alive.
"Oh, wait. Jordan…"
Sid waved him away. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her. Mac posted an officer from the precinct to monitor who's coming in and out, she'll be safe here."
Hawkes nodded, satisfied, and left with his mind already working out possible connections to the bullet, the shooter, and whoever wanted Jordan dead.
Jo exited the elevator and stopped short upon seeing Mac sitting at his desk in his office. She felt a surge of concern and irritation rush through her as she watched him, then she collected herself and sailed through his office door. On a normal day, she would have startled him or he would have seen her coming long before she made it through the door. His delayed surprise at her entrance worried her.
"Mac? What on earth are you doing here? You need to be at a hospital, or at the very least at home, resting. For God's sake, Mac, someone tried to kill you!"
He raised tired eyes to meet hers, making her feel slightly guilty for her energetic charge.
"Someone tried killing Jordan. I just got in the way."
His familiar smirk calmed her rush of emotions, removing the panic but leaving open concern.
"Mac, I'm serious. You're hurt; Sheldon told me you took two bullets."
"Just one, Jo. The other is just a graze."
She crossed her arms across her chest, putting everything into her body language to show him that she wasn't about to be placated.
"That's two bullets, wounding you." Her face softened when his expression tightened in pain as he shifted to fully face her. "Mac, I'm just concerned."
He nodded, taking in her words. "I appreciate that, Jo. I really do. And I'm not neglecting my injuries. I just want to find out how someone would go from a 9mil in an alley to firing on a precinct with a rifle, just to kill an eighteen-year-old girl."
Jo's response was cut off when Lindsay entered the office from the back hallway, carrying a mug of tea and a protein bar. She handed both to Mac, staring pointedly at him until he stood up and carried them to the couch facing his desk. He gave her a fond look of exasperation until she handed him the results in her other hand.
"Ballistics came back on the rifle bullets, no match in IBIS."
He took a sip of tea before responding. "That's not surprising, nothing about this shooting says 'professional'. Did Flack's canvasing turn up anything?"
"No suspects, but they found the sniper's perch. Danny took Adam to go process the precinct, so I'm on my way to process the shooter's location."
"Jo, you go with her. Finding this guy is top priority. I don't want an active shooter in this city, especially one that still has a live target."
Jo nodded, and turned to leave. She paused with her hand on the door. "Be careful, Mac. We need you to be healthy. Please get some rest soon."
He passed a hand over his eyes. "Believe me, I will. Very soon."
She nodded, and left to collect her kit. Lindsay fidgeted a bit, enough to get Mac's attention.
"You have something else?"
She shook her head. "I'm just wondering, what is the connection to Jordan's father?"
Mac sighed and sank back into his seat. "At the moment, purely circumstantial. He has solid alibies for the past two days and the only thing that links him to any of this is his business card in the pocket of his client."
"Which doesn't prove anything, just that John Dorin carried the card. It doesn't prove that it was her father that wrote the instructions or gave him the picture."
Mac nodded. "I didn't tell her. Until we can definitively prove his connection, we have to leave him out as a suspect." He looked up at her. "Go process the scene. Let's find this guy, see what the connection is, and we'll follow it to the one pulling all the strings." He assigned a list of lab techs to help Danny process the precinct, and a few more to help her. She took down the names, gathered her results, and hugged him gently before leaving the office.
He spent a few minutes sitting in silence, finishing his tea and eating as he ran through the probable connections to Jordan's father in his head. He couldn't establish a definite motive, and the only thing he could speculate made him extremely nervous. He glanced at his watch, and carefully got to his feet. He had an appointment at the morgue; time to wake the dead.