Title: Shades of Gray

Author: Max Tyler (a.k.a. Max452)

Email: Max_01_09@yahoo.com

Rating: R

Spoilers: Pandora's Trunk Pt 1 & 2.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Crossing Jordan people or places. I do not make any money off this, it is strictly for enjoyment.

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She sliced through the man's flesh, cool from the morgue's refrigerator, through the yellow greasy subcutaneous fat. Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh cut through the ribs, and lifted away the breastbone, to reveal the heart and lungs.

She examined the heart carefully, and shook her head, "No mystery of cause of death here. Myocardial infarction. Doesn't look like this was his first, either."

Dr. Peter Winslow, who was in the autopsy lab with her, shrugged, "So... death by fast food?"

Jordan shot him an irritated look, "And you're here, why?"

Peter held up a placating hand, "We have to go... now that you're finished there. Got two bodies waiting patiently for us."

Jordan nodded, peeled off of her gloves, and shucked off her gown, "Where?"

"An apartment on Howes Street." Peter replied.

"Okay. Give me a second, then meet me down in the parking lot."

Patrol cars marked which apartment on Howes Street that Jordan and Peter needed to be at. She parked behind one of them, and climbed out, carrying some of the various equipment they would need.

She smiled as she watched a familiar face come out of the apartment, and made his way over.

Detective Woody Hoyt, a homicide detective for the Boston Police department, and a friend of hers.

The day was warm and sunny, the promise of summer in the air. It was too bad that there was two people in that apartment that couldn't enjoy it.

The best Jordan could do was to find the person that committed the crime.

"Hey Woody. What do we got?" Jordan asked.

Woody ran a hand through his hair, "Hey Jordan. It's not pretty in there. Seen worse, but still... anyway, the vics are Chris Hammond and his girlfriend Jaime Black."

They walked back to the apartment, Woody lifted the yellow crime-scene tape, and they went inside.

"Holy shit," Peter muttered, "Well, these two didn't die from any myocardial infarction's. That's for sure."

Jordan nodded silently, taking in the scene in front of her.

They were standing in the living room. Chris Hammond and Jaime Black were sitting in the middle of the room, tied to wooden kitchen chairs.

Both of them appeared to have deep cuts all over their bodies, arms, legs, torso, face, which created a modest amount of blood underneath their chairs. But most of it probably came from the slash across their throats, probably the wound that had killed them.

Jaime Black had probably a pretty woman before someone had taken a knife to her. But now all Jordan could see was shoulder-length blond hair, the ends stained crimson. A mutilated face, and body.

Jordan pulled on a pair of gloves and began to examine Jaime's body. Peter did the same thing with Chris Hammond's.

Crouching beside the chair, she examined it carefully, "From the bruising on her forehead, I'd say she was struck with some type of instrument. A single blow, and the weapon probably wasn't too hard, because it didn't cause too much damage. It was just meant to stun her," Jordan turned her attention to knife wounds, "Judging by the coloration of the wounds...the blood rising to meet the surface, she was alive when all of them were inflicted. It was the single slash across the throat... that killed her," Jordan looked up, "They were tortured."

Woody's face blanched, "Great."

"You've got basically the same thing over here... except ole' Chris here took two or three hits to the head. He was probably harder to subdue." Peter shrugged.

Jordan tested Jaime's elbow, "There's no rigor mortis. They've been dead about five or six hours," she looked up at Woody, "Who found 'em?"

"Jaime's younger sister, Stephanie. Nineteen-years-old. Apparently, she and Jaime had plans today, Jaime never showed. Came over here, and found this."

"Is she still here? Can we talk to her?" Jordan asked.

Woody shrugged, "Yeah. But I don't know if you'll get anything helpful out of her. Kid's pretty freaked out."

Jordan standing, cast a glance behind her at the bodies, tied up, and slaughtered. Like cattle.

"Gee, I wonder why?"

Stephanie Black was a pretty girl, with her sister's blond hair, cut into a chic bob. Her dark brown eyes were glassy with a combination of tears and shock. She barely reacted when Jordan, Woody, and Peter came into the bedroom.

"Stephanie," Woody knelt by the girl, "This is Dr. Cavanaugh and Dr. Winslow. They need to ask you some questions. Is that all right?"

Stephanie nodded mutely.

Jordan's heart twisted painfully for the girl, and she sat down beside her on the bed, "Stephanie. My name is Jordan. You sure you're okay? You all right to answer a few questions for us?"

She nodded again.

"Okay... was your sister into anything unusual?"

Stephanie shook her head, opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it.

"Stephanie? Was there something?" Jordan studied her.

The girl shrugged, "I don't know. That's the thing. We used to be really close, you know? But then she started dating Chris, and I didn't get to see her that often. When we did make plans, she'd either call me at the last minute, and say she couldn't come, or just blow me off. Like today."

"What was your opinion of Chris?" Peter asked.

"I didn't like him. I thought he was a rat, but what could I do? I told Jaime I thought he was bad news, but she loved him," Stephanie stared out the window down at the police cruisers, and began to cry softly, "And now she's dead."

"Well, we were right. The blows to the head did no damage to the skull." Jordan said, gazing at Chris Hammond and Jaime Black's X rays.

"Terrific. Woody, you find anything on the boyfriend?" Peter asked.

The cop shook his head, "He doesn't have any priors. But we'll ask around."

Jordan looked over at Peter, "You ready?"

He pulled at his gloves, "Anytime you are."

They continued where they had left off. Jordan examining Jaime Black, Peter working on Chris Hammond. Woody leaning against the door, watching them, waiting patiently.

Jordan adjusted the light, then reached over to her tray of instruments, picked up a swab, and began to clean the knife wounds.

"Looks like a large, non-serrated double-edged knife was used. Very sharp." Jordan said, as she probed the edges of Jaime's slashed throat.

"Yep." Peter agreed from the other autopsy table.

She then scraped Jaime's fingernails in case the girl had managed to fight her attacker, although her hands looked clean. No signs of damage at all.

"There's traces of adhesive on her wrists and ankles. Kept her tightly restrained with tape, in addition to the rope," Jordan continued, "There's no sign of sexual assault."

"Thank God for small favors." Woody muttered.

"There's a great deal of swelling around the lower half of her face... hold on one second." Jordan said, and gently pried open Jaime's mouth. What she saw made her suck in a breath.

"What?" Peter asked.

"She's missing three teeth. Our killer pulled them," Jordan looked up, "Your guy missing any?"

He held up a finger, "Lemme check," he bent over, but stood back up almost immediately, "Nope. He's got all of his."

Woody stared down at Jaime Black, "Then why did the killer pull hers?"