Identity

Nighttime Chats

Rating: PG-13

Not mine ~ they're just messing with my head.  All of them!

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"Claire?  Claire?  What. . .?"

"You two get in the car.  I'll take care of things."  Lennie clicked the remote to unlock the car doors and pushed Jordan in that direction.  Nigel took the hint and got behind her.  Lennie turned back towards Jack.  "She's not Claire, Jack.  Her name's Jordan Cavanaugh.  She's a medical examiner in Boston."

"No.  You're wrong.  It can't be. . .  You were there when they. . .  Were you part of her plan?"

"What plan Jack?  I was there.  I was in the damn car with her.  I was there when they moved her body to the morgue.  I was at the wake.  Jack, Claire's dead.  That is not Claire."

"But. . .she looks. . ."

"Look.  They've had a long day.  Let me take them to the hotel and get them checked in.  Why don't we meet at that Starbucks over there and we can talk about it.  Say thirty minutes?"  He wasn't sure if Jack would bite, but Lennie knew he needed to get Jordan out of there.  Jack had been working way too hard, and the exhaustion was showing on his face. There was no telling what he'd do.  God, this was exactly what he and Anita had not wanted to happen.

"Fine.  I'll meet you there.  I can't believe it. . ."

"See you in a half hour, Jack.  And she's NOT Claire."

Lennie took them to the hotel to get them checked in.  The clerk at the desk tried his best to be helpful.

"Yes, sir.  Your lieutenant called a while ago.  Seems there had been a mix-up and you needed a second room?  Something about. . ."

"My name again."  At times like this, Jordan really hated her parents for giving her a gender-neutral name.

"You know what, if it's alright with Jordan, one room is fine.  Well, one room with two beds."  Nigel hoped Jordan would understand what he meant by that.  But the look on her face when she turned around said otherwise.  He excused them and pulled her off to the side.  "Jordan, I don't know exactly what's going on, but that guy back there didn't seem too stable.  I guess he and. . ."

"My doppelganger?"

"Yeah.  I'm guessing they were more than co-workers.  And he didn't seem like the most stable person back there.  I think Garret. . .hell Jordan, I'd feel better if I could keep an eye on you.  I promise you.  No funny stuff."

"Good.  It would be too weird."  Jordan looked at Nigel while she thought about it.  She didn't need anyone to take care of her.  Still, this whole thing with everyone thinking she looked like someone who'd been dead since 96 was creeping her out.  Of all the people in the office, she guessed she could trust Nigel.  "Alright.  Fine.  But not one toe comes onto my bed."

"Of course."  They moved back towards the counter.  "We'll take the one room with two beds, please."

"Yes, sir.  Now, these are your keys.  This is your room number, right here.  You'll want to take the elevator around that corner."

"Thanks mate."  Nigel and Jordan followed Lennie back to the car to gather their things.

"You'll be alright?"

"Yeah. Thanks Detective."  Jordan was finally showing some of the exhaustion of the day.

"My pleasure, Jordan.  And you can call me Lennie."

"Alright.  So we'll see you in the morning?"

"Yeah.  Do you need someone to pick you up or. . .?"

"We'll take a cab.  Thanks though."

Lennie got in his car and pulled off, on his way to meet Jack and try to convince him that this woman was not Claire.  Not an easy task by any stretch of the imagination.

Jordan and Nigel went into the lobby and over to the elevator.  They got on and punched 6.  As the doors closed, Jordan leaned her head wearily on Nigel's shoulder.

"You alright, luv?"

"Yeah Nige.  It's just this case, Lauren's case. . .  I can't believe someone can do that to anyone. Well, I'm not stupid.  I know it happens.  It's just. . ."

"Is that it?"

"Yeah.  Well, and this being constantly mistaken for someone who they obviously all cared a lot about and who's dead.  That takes a lot out of you, ya know."  As the doors opened, Nigel prodded Jordan out of the elevator and down the hall towards their room.

"I can only imagine, luv.  I can only imagine."  Jordan dropped her bag on the floor and flopped onto one of the beds.  "So I'm assuming that's yours?"

"Yeah, it'll do.  Hey Nige? I think I'm gonna soak in a hot bath for a little while.  Try to unwind.  Is that ok?"

"Not a problem.  I'll call Garret with the phone number here.  And there's something I need to work on."

"Let me guess.  You're going to try to find out more about this Claire Kincaid chick?"

"Well. . ."

"Come on, Nige.  She was here in the early and mid-90's.  We were working together in Boston then.  There's no way I could be her.  Even if she did fake her own death."

"I just think it would be interesting to learn a little more about her."

"Yeah, right.  Garret told you to."

"Guilty as charged.  Jordan, he's just trying to look out for you.  We all are."

"Damn it, Nige!  I don't need. . ."  Jordan took a deep breath.  She was too tired to fight.  "Alright.  I'm going to go run that bath.  Let me know if you find anything interesting."

"Will do."

Jordan went into the bathroom and let the hot water run into the tub.  She looked over the goodies on the counter just to see what was there.  Not bad.  Bath & Bodyworks stuff.  Vanilla.  Not bad.  Not too girly.  She didn't usually get frilly, but every once in a while.  Yes!  Bubble bath.  "What the hell?" she thought.  "It's not like my loft has a bathtub. And after today, I could use a nice bubble bath." 

At the same time, Nigel was beginning his investigation on Claire Kincaid.  Quite an interesting woman.  When the picture popped up, he saw what everyone was talking about.  Shorten Jordan's hair to a bob and put her in a business suit and even Max probably couldn't tell them apart.  At least from looking.  "Alrighty.  Let's see what the dossier has on her," Nigel said to himself.  "Hmm.  Harvard Law.  Well, she was obviously smart.  Clerked for one of the leading jurists in the city when she first graduated.  Worked in the D.A.'s office after that until her death.  Got a couple of convictions or settlements in cases she tried on her own.  Killed when her car was hit by a drunk driver late one night."  Not a lot of personal information.  Oh well, perhaps he could get some time to talk with Briscoe of VanBuren and find out a little more about Claire.  He jumped as Jordan's cell phone rang.  "Jordan?  Your phone's ringing.  Should I. . .?"

"Yeah, would you grab it?  Thanks."

"Dr. Cavanaugh's phone."

"Nigel?  Is that you?"

"Woodrow!  Great to hear from you.  Where are you?"

"I'm at the Pogue.  Where's Jordan?"

"In the bath."

"What?!?!?"

"My dear Woodrow.  Calm down.  It's not what you're thinking."

"You're answering Jordan's cell phone while she's taking a bath?  How else am I supposed to. . ."

"Woody.  Relax. Garret sent us to New York.  They've got a case that's eerily similar to the Lauren Michaelson case.  And a suspect.  If we can tie them to the same guy. . ."

"That would solve Lauren's murder."

"Exactly."

"But that still doesn't explain. . ."

"They're putting us up in a hotel.  There was a mix up and they assumed from her name that Jordan was a guy."

"And there were no other rooms available?"

"No, there were.  But things are a little complicated here."

"What?"

"It seems our dear girl bears a striking resemblance to an A.D.A. who worked here until she was killed by a drunk driver in 96.  And it's sort of freaking her out."

"Do I need to come down there?"

"Woody?  I don't mean to sound rude, but what would you do?  And anyway, most of them are convinced that Jordan's not Claire ~ that was her name."

"Most?"  Woody's voice was beginning to get panicky.

"There's one guy this chick worked with. And probably more.  He's an E.A.D.A. here.  We ran into him over dinner and he wasn't too keen on believing Detective Briscoe or us.  Jordan and I just decided that it was better this way.  And we've got two beds."

"That's good.  And you'd better use two beds.  One for each of you."  The voice on the other end had changed.

"Max.  Good to talk with you."

"Garret said he'd sent you to New York.  Making progress?"

"Some.  Max. . ."

"I trust you Nigel.  Just take care of Jordan."

"I will.  I will."  Before hanging up, Nigel gave Max the hotel's number.  Any others he might need would be easy enough to find.

"Thanks, Nigel.  I'll pass the info along to Garret.  He's sitting here too.  Unless you need to talk with him?"

"No, not right now.  Should I have Jordan call you?"

"If she wants to.  Sounds like a good night's sleep is what she needs."

"Alright.  Talk to you later Max.  Bye."  Nigel clicked the phone shut.  "Jordan, Garret and your dad are all up to date on things."  Alright, leaving Woody out was cruel he knew, but he'd tell her eventually. . .

"Thanks, Nige."  Jordan let herself sink back into the bubbles as she closed her eyes and tried to relax.

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Meanwhile at Starbucks. . .

"Good.  You waited."

"What else was I going to do.  So Detective.  You gonna tell me where she is?"

"Jack, she's not Claire.  I was with you when. . ."

"But she looks. . ."

"Her name's Jordan Cavanaugh.  Jordan's from Boston.  She was in med school, in a residency program, and working in the M.E.'s office while Claire was here.  There's no way she could be Claire."

"She could have concocted all that.  Claire was smart enough to get all that changed."

"All those records?"

"Well. . ."

"And Jack, this girl doesn't have a scar."

"You ever heard of plastic surgery, Lennie?"

"Jack, I was in the car.  I saw the cut.  I don't care how good the surgeon is, there would still have been a scar from that cut."

"Lennie, I just. . .  I've missed her so much."

"I know.  Well, I don't know, know.  But I know what it is to miss someone you love.  And what it is to want to believe.  But she's Jordan Cavanaugh.  She is not Claire.  Jack, Claire's dead."

"Are you going to tell me where she's staying or not?"

"No!  Jordan and Nigel have had a long enough day with the train ride and the preliminary examination.  Not to mention Jordan spending the day explaining who she is.  They deserve to have a night to sleep."

"And that's what I don't get.  I just don't see Claire with someone like him.  Not her type at all."

"Jack, she's not Claire.  She's Jordan.  And not everyone sleeps with their coworkers."  It was harsh, Lennie knew, but maybe it would shock Jack into realizing the obvious.

"I'm going to leave before I do something we'd both regret.  I'm not sure the Bar would look too highly on an E.A.D.A. accused of assaulting an officer.  Maybe in the morning you'll be ready to tell me where she is."  Jack McCoy stormed out of the coffee shop.

Lennie sat there.  All the evidence and Jack still wouldn't believe him.  They were registered in the hotel under Nigel's name, so it would be nearly impossible for Jack to find them that way.  But he wasn't so confident about the next day at the station and the morgue.  He opened his cell phone and hoped Anita was still at work.

"Yes, this is Detective Briscoe.  Is Lieutenant VanBuren still there?  Yes, that would be great."

"VanBuren."

"It's Lennie."

"They all checked in?"

"Yes, but we've got a bit of a problem."

"What?"

"Guess who we ran into at dinner?"

"Not McCoy."

"McCoy."

"My God.  What did he say?"

"Well, Jordan was in the bathroom when he came up.  Nigel went to intercept her and take her to the car.  I thought we got rid of him, but he followed us to the car."

"Damn."

"He started to go a little nuts.  I managed to get them out of there and checked into the hotel.  Given everything going on, they opted to keep one room with two beds.  But it's under Townsend's name.  Something Jack never learned.  They should be ok there."

"Good."

"But it's tomorrow I'm worried about.  How likely is it that we could keep an E.A.D.A. out of here?"

"The station itself, we can't.  However, we could keep him away from the morgue on grounds that his presence could skew the investigation."

"Really?"

"I'll take care of it.  Get some rest and I'll see you in the morning."

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Back at the hotel. . .

Jordan finished getting ready for bed and went out of the bathroom.  She turned down her sheets, crawled in and curled up facing the wall.  Her head was still spinning with everything.  The case was enough to give anyone nightmares.  And then this whole Claire thing.  It was really giving her the creeps.

Nigel came out of the bathroom and got into his own bed.  He looked over at Jordan's back.  "You alright, luv?"

"No.  But I'll be ok.  I think."

"I told you your dad and Garret send their love?"

"Yeah, thanks Nige." 

"Oh, and Woody too?"

Jordan flipped over to face Nigel.  "You didn't say you talked with Woody!"

"Gotcha!"

"What?"

"You don't twitch when I mention Max or Garret, but the second I mention a certain detective. . ."

"Nigel, if any of this leaves this room and turns up in an office pool or anywhere else. . ."

"Alright, luv.  Your secret crush is safe with me."

"I don't know why I even bother."  Jordan rolled her eyes and flipped over to face the wall again.  "Say, Nige?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't think that Jack guy can find us do you?"

"The room's in my name, which I don't think he ever got, so yeah.  I think you're safe."

"Ok."  Were Nigel's ears playing tricks on him, or had Jordan's voice become tiny, muffled in the covers?

"Jordan?  I won't let anything happen to you.  I promise.  I know how you feel about being protected and all, but. . ."

"It's ok, Nige.  Thanks."  Jordan turned her face towards him.  Thankfully there were no tears there, because Nigel didn't know what he would have done if she'd been crying.  "See you in the morning."

"Good night, luv."  Nigel reached over and turned out the light after ensuring that the alarm clock was set for the correct time.  "Sleep well."

. . .to be continued. . .