DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made. It's all for fun.

Part Five: I Touched the Fire

Max held the coffee cup to his lips, but he didn't drink. Instead he studied Jordan over its rim. She pushed the food on her plate around and around, her eyes seemingly fascinated with its endless circuits of her plate. "Eat it, Jordan. You're too thin."

She looked up and started too make a reply. Instead she obediently ate a mouthful of the pasta she'd ordered. She gazed around the diner Max had talked her into. Nearly an hour out of Boston, small but clean, the diner served good, plain food. Jordan put her fork down. "How'd you know?"

Max smiled and put down his coffee cup. Maybe both of their defenses had come down a little. "Jordan, you're a hell of a medical examiner, but you missed a couple of details."

She grimaced.

Max's smile broadened. "You were hoping your friends would be too upset to notice?" Jordan nodded slowly and resumed pushing her food around. Max reached over and stopped her. "You think because I noticed I wasn't upset?"

She shrugged.

"Jordan, it tore my heart out. You have always been the best part of my life." Her mouth dropped open. "I know I haven't managed to make you feel that way all the time-"

"Dad-"

He shook his head. "No, let me finish. I got pulled a lot of different ways in my life and the person who paid the most for that was you. You always seemed so independent, so tough... I didn't realize for a long time that my daughter shouldn't have to be so tough around me." He lifted a shoulder. "By the time I got it figured out, it was too late."

Tears pricked Jordan's eyes. "It's not too late, Dad."

"No? You wanted everyone to believe it was."

She rolled her eyes. "I - I - Dad, I'm sorry you - I'm sorry."

"What happened, Jordan?" His eyes made her squirm. "Did you plan it?"

"What?" Her mouth made an "o" of horror. "No! Of course, not! I just - I don't even know if I can explain it, Dad."

"Try."

She sighed. Her tongue darted from behind her lips and ran over her mouth. Another sigh. "I realized there was some material evidence in this case-"

"I know that part."

"All right, well, I went back to get it." She took her hand from her father's and began twisting her own two hands together. "And I was standing there - I couldn't get to where it was - the fire was already too hot. I kept thinking about the guy we were trying to catch, how he was going to get a second chance. He didn't deserve it, but without the shirt we'd had... He was free."

"And you decided if a shirt going up in flames could set a man free, it could do wonders for a medical examiner?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. I guess. I didn't think it through."

"Yes, you did, Jordan."

"No, really I..." Her mouth closed slowly over the lie. "What mistakes did I make, Dad?"

He chuckled. "You know, I've been waiting for Garret - or Nigel maybe - to put it together. I realized what was wrong the first time they told me where they found the locket." His eyes twinkled at her. "The fire was so hot that there wasn't any real trace evidence left, Jordan, but the locket survived?"

"Hey, it's possible!"

"It would have been damaged." Max didn't ask, he stated. "You didn't want them to have any doubt. You wanted them to go on. But-" He shook a finger at her. "Always thinking a few jumps ahead, you decided that just in case anybody started wondering if maybe your 'death' wasn't accidental, you'd make sure no one ever got blamed. You know, I might have been able to believe the locket survived - stranger things have happened. But I printed it, Jordan."

She dropped her head and then looked up at him, a ghost of a smile playing on her face. "I never could put much past you, could I?"

"Family trait." He nodded toward her food. "Eat."

Jordan did as directed as Max signaled for more coffee. He watched her finish her meal, wanting to question her about where she'd been, how she'd lived, but he decided not to push his luck. "Are you going to tell them?"

Her fork clattered to her plate.

XXXXX

Nigel's mouth was pursed as he held the mysterious note up to the light. There was something about it. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something. Something. He'd assumed at first that Dr. Macy must have thought of something on his way out last night, but the more he thought about it, the more Nigel discounted that explanation. It didn't fit. Though he had other things to do, he decided to fingerprint the note.

No prints.

And that reminded him of Max's visit a while ago. He'd never come back to have Nigel print the... Max had been a cop long enough, maybe he'd printed it himself - after Nigel had left with Macy. But why had it been so important? And what had he found?

Nigel grimaced. He was missing something. There was a connection he just couldn't see. Something he was so close to. What? What? What?

The phone rang, jarring him out of his black study. He answered it. "Yeah, Woody. All right. Sure. No problem." Nigel hung up and grabbed a kit. The yew lead had panned out! An employee at one of the nurseries that sold yew trees had no alibi for the various killings, lived with his deaf mother, whose house happened to possess a basement, had a history of stalking random citizens and enjoyed bow hunting. Slam dunk - Woody was certain. He just needed Nigel to run the DNA against the sample found under the councilwoman's nails.

Nigel stuck his head into Macy's office. "Woody's got a suspect in the Tell murders. I'll be at the precinct."

Garret looked up and nodded. "How'd he get a suspect?"

Nigel briefly explained.

"What made you decide to rerun the stomach contents?"

For a moment Nigel looked down. Dr. Macy hated his odd theories. "Oh, you know, nothing else was working. I thought maybe we should start looking at any possibility, no matter how remote it seemed."

Macy nodded. "Good thought. Something Jor-..." He still couldn't say it. He waved Nigel off.

XXXXX

By the time Nigel arrived at the precinct, the suspect had lawyered up. Nigel could hear the arguments. "You have no proof any of the victims shopped at my client's place of employment!" came the first shot Nigel heard.

"We're checking receipts right now. Besides, the nursery doesn't keep records of cash or check sales. Believe me, we're going to find out your client had met every single one of these people." Woody's voice was insistent, angry. "And your client has no alibi!"

"His mother is deaf and in ill health!"

"Right, so she wouldn't know if he were home or not."

"She requires constant attention. A caregiver during the day and if my client leaves the house at night, he has to find someone to stay with her. This is ridiculous."

Woody lowered his voice. It became smooth and deadly. "Your client has murdered more than ten people. Somehow I don't think he'd stop at leaving his mother alone. And we're going to get DNA and prove it."

Nigel took that as his cue and went in.

"We welcome the DNA test," the lawyer said stiffly.

XXXXX

Nigel picked up the phone and dialed Hoyt. "Woody?"

"Tell me we got him, Nigel!"

"Would that I could, Detective. Would that I could."

"It doesn't match?"

"Not even close."

"Damn!" Woody ground his teeth. "Thanks, Nigel." He stood up and returned to the interrogation room. "Your client is free to go." Woody ignored the lawyer's smirk. He watched them go and then decided to head home himself. It had been the worst day since... yeah. He ran his hand through his hair, sighing. Jordan would have figured it out. That wasn't fair to her colleagues, but Woody couldn't stop the thought from forming. Jordan would have figured it out by now. "I need you, Jordan," he whispered. "God, I need you."

END Part Five

TBC...