A/N: Chapter 7! Thanks for reveiwing...don't stop now:D Ok well only about 1 or two chapters to go...and I still have no real idea what's going to happen...it just happens as it happens...
Chapter 7: Now We Wait
"What now?" Jordan hissed, chasing after her brother, disappointment growing in her gut.
"We wait," he said, trying to keep his temper in check, and kept striding towards the car.
"Damn it, James, stop!" she grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face her, starting at the expression on his face.
"What?" he said savagely.
"Was it him? Did he do it?"
James stared at her. "I don't know," he said, and yanked his arm free from her grasp, turned away and continued to walk.
"What are we waiting for?" she asked in an exasperated tone. He stopped and turned, face eerily illuminated by the street-lamps that had just been turned on, and she was suddenly thrust back to the night her father was killed.
"We could do CPR," Her own voice returned to her and reverberated around her skull.
I said that? she asked herself, disturbed. She really couldn't remember much of what had happened that night; it was all a haze. A haze she welcomed warmly.
"Him to slip up," he said.
"James!" the protested, but he shook his head dismissively and climbed into the car, listening as she let out an angry sigh and followed suit.
From the window, Jack Koreldy grinned. "They'll be back," he said with certainty, before letting the curtain fall.
"I've got a bad feeling about this, Doc," Woody said again, concern evident in his voice. They had just arrived in the city of New York and were navigating the streets in search of the residence of Adam Macklin.
"So you've said, what, five times now?" Garret said, irritated, as he peered through the windscreen at the sign above their heads.
"That's the one!" Woody said excitedly, and Garret turned the car.
"Number 156," he murmured. "Your side."
Woody squinted as he stared out of the window. "124," he reported. "Keep going. Ok here we are. 148, 150, 152, 154…that one! 156!"
Garret halted the car and they jumped out, closing the doors quietly behind them. They walked straight up to the door, and Woody knocked loudly.
"Adam Macklin?" he called. "Police, open up!"
There was no answer.
"Open the door now!"
Silence.
Woody glanced at Garret, who nodded slightly. Drawing back his leg, he sent it into the door with force, breaking the old lock effectively. He rushed into the house, closely followed by Garret.
"There's no one here," he said after methodically checking the entire house. Garret was standing in the kitchen.
"What now?" he asked his friend, who had joined him.
Woody opened his mouth to say something to the effect of 'I have no idea,' when he spotted something. Bending over, he picked it up, and wordlessly showed it to Garret.
"That's her bag," he said in a low voice. Woody nodded and opened it.
"Cell, wallet, keys," he said. "So where in the hell is she?"
"Gun's not there," Garret observed, and a range of possibilities rushed through their minds, and were conveyed in their eyes as they stared blandly at one another.
"We've got company," James said as they rounded the corner.
"That's Garret's car," Jordan said, immediately recognising the vehicle.
"Whose?" James asked, glancing at her.
"My boss," she explained, distracted, wondering how they could have found her.
"Your boss?" James asked, mildly interested. "What's he doing here?"
"Beats me," Jordan said through gritted teeth, trying to recall if she had left any trace of herself in there. "My damn bag," she muttered, but was stopped when a figure appeared at the door. "Its Woody," she told James, staring at her friend, who was looking out the door as if he had heard something. Shaking his head slightly, he walked back inside, closing the door behind him.
"Your ah…detective friend?" James said, as if trying to remember. Jordan nodded briefly.
"They'll recognise you if we go in there," she said. "We don't want that."
James figured that this did not require an answer.
"How about I go in there and bluff? Adam Macklin can be an old friend of the family."
"Bad idea," James said immediately.
"Why?" she queried, intent on her plan now that it had latched onto her mind.
"Why do you think?" he asked. She waited. "Ah screw it," he said vehemently. "Go on then."
"Thanks for the permission slip, should I get a note from home?" she said sarcastically, getting out of the car, and walking up the street to the house.
"Thanks for the ride," she called, loudly, at an imaginary car. She could have smiled at the almost frantic look on the detective's face as he scrambled up from the kitchen to open the door. She fixed a surprised look on her face.
"Woody!" she said, and turned her voice hard. "What are you doing here?"
Barely able to contain his relief at her obvious health, he said, "I was about to ask you that very thing."
"Great minds, huh?" Jordan said, diverting. "I thought that car was Garret's. What'd you do, steal it?"
"No," came a voice from behind Woody, and this time Jordan was genuinely surprised.
"Garret. Long time no see," she said weakly, and pushed past them into the house, trying to look like she knew the place." The men exchanged glances over her head, and Woody closed the door grimly.
"What are you doing here, and who is Adam Macklin?"
"For once, Woodrow, you are the one doing the wrong thing. I have broken no laws, crossed no lines, yet here you stand, demanding to know why, what, where. I have a newsflash for you; it's none of your business." Her words were designed to hurt, and hurt they did.
"What did you expect me to do?" he asked, exasperated. "You disappear. I hear some guy talking to me, telling me you're in his shower. What did you expect?"
"Well, as you can see, I'm fine. So why don't you get back into your car, and drive back to Boston, huh? Do us all a favour."
"Do us a favour, do us a favour?" Woody spluttered, obviously at a loss for words of his own. Garret watched, and had the circumstances been any different, he would have been highly amused at the antics of these two. They reminded him forcefully of an old married couple.
"Go home, Woody," she said cruelly, turning away. Woody frowned and was about to say something, but Garret shook his head.
"Come home soon," he said softly, and watched her shoulders slump. Then he turned and left the house, hoping Woody would follow.
"Don't be a stranger, Jordan," he said, and she found she could not look at him as he followed the Chief ME.
"That's it?" Woody asked Garret. "We just leave?"
"Of course not," he said. "She's hiding something."
"No! You think?" Woody said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "So what do we do?"
"We wait," Garret said, with the air of experience about him. Woody snorted, a trait that was becoming quite common, and shook his head, acquiescing.
Jordan watched the car drive off, and breathed a sigh of relief. She waited 10 minutes to make sure they had gone, and ran back down to the car, expecting James to have already driven back. But the car was deserted. A shiver ran down her spine.
"James?" she called, opening the car door. "James!"
The silence was deafening. Jordan frowned, not able to contemplate where he could possibly be. Then she saw the note on the dashboard.
Come back, it read, in scrawling handwriting. There was no doubt in her mind about who had left the note. She ran back to the house, retrieving her cell phone before running back to the car, jumping in and retracing their steps, without so much as a thought for her own safety.
"Where's she going?" Woody hissed, in the car a few houses down, gesturing urgently to Garret to start the vehicle.
"Hang on…nope. Psychic powers aren't working today," the ME growled. Woody sat forward in his seat, squinting ahead to spot the lights in front.
"Where are we?" Garret said. Woody was staring at the street sign above their heads.
"She's going to Koreldy's," he replied grimly. Garret let out a frustrated breath and screeched to a halt a few houses away from Jordan's car.
"Wait," Garret said, holding a restraining hand towards the young detective as he prepared to jump clean out of the car. Woody grunted and fell back against the seat, annoyed. "Watch."
"I'm watching," Woody said impatiently. "She's knocking."
She was. She had sprinted up the driveway and was now bashing on the door. It opened, and a man looked out.
"Dr. Cavanaugh," he said. "How can I help you?"
Jordan didn't remember that she hadn't given him her name.
"Where is he?" she demanded. His eyes trailed over here blood-shot eyes, filled with something that was a mix of fright and fiery anger, and her chest, rising and falling with the erratic, shallow breaths she was taking,
"Who?" he asked, after an exquisitely timed pause that was designed to make her completely sure that he knew exactly who she was talking about.
"James," she said.
"I'm sure I don't know who you're talking about," he said in a tone that completely belied his words.
"Where is he?" she repeated harshly. He frowned.
"Manners, Dr. Cavanaugh."
Something shifted in her brain. He's not supposed to know who I am! The thought hit her with force, and she stared back at him, eyes wide. He grinned when he read the recognition in her eyes.
"I'm glad we're finally on the same wavelength," he said mildly, and moved his hand. Jordan glanced down and spotted the gun. "Now how about you come in?"
"Like hell," she scoffed.
Koreldy thought. "Hell," he mused. "Yes. That could be fun." She did not reply. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear," he said. "Come in, or you'll both die."
Jordan thought quickly. Gesturing wildly behind her back with her hand, she walked slowly inside, hoping and praying that Woody had not taken her seriously, as much as she had wanted them too at the time.
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"What's she doing?" Woody hissed. Garret was sitting forward, a crease in his brow.
"I don't know," he said. "Just wait."
"We seem to be doing a hell of a lot of that, lately," he said.
"Cool it, detective. We don't even know if she's walking into danger."
But the words fell on closed ears. Woody had convinced himself that if he did not intervene, something terrible would happen, but knew that to try and argue the point with the ME would be futile. He waited.
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"So you know us," she said, desperately trying to make conversation.
He just smiled an infuriatingly knowing smile and kept walking. He thrust her into a room, and it took her eyes a while to adjust to the dim before she saw James. He was sitting on the floor, head in hands.
His head snapped up at the sound of the door opening and let out a low moan when he saw Jordan.
"Damn you," he said weakly, and she noticed a trickle of blood slowly trail down his face.
"James!" she called out, and rushed to him, trying to determine if he was anything resembling alright. He did not seem to have any fatal or semi-fatal injuries, so she stood up, angrily indignant.
"So you killed them," she said in a low voice. Koreldy frowned.
"Who?" he asked innocently. James lifted his head and shook it at Jordan.
Damn, it was so pointless! What would they do now? She figured it was a situation of kill or be killed. And she found she didn't give a damn either way. She sunk down onto the ground next to her brother and sat numbly.
"Jordan?" he asked. He had half-hoped that she would march in and save them both, like she imagined she had done many times before. But she was gone, something in her had either snapped or left. Her eyes suddenly looked dull, her head hung demurely. Koreldy looked on, amused.
"So," he said. "What do we do now? I presume you want to kill me and I know I want to kill you two…" he trailed off, shrugging.
"Why don't we go the whole hog then, and totally imitate a movie? How about we talk about the whys and wherefores? Then one of us can go down in a blaze of glory and the rest of us can get on with our damn lives, or what's left of them. Just decide quickly." Jordan's voice was muffled, but both men heard her clearly enough, and were mildly surprised. And, both agreed.
"It is rather cliché, isn't it?" Koreldy mused. "Ah well. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."
"Indeed," Jordan agreed. "So let's get started on the cheesy explanation shall we?" she said, adopting an apathetic stance, when really she was burning for information. "Who did you kill, why, when, etcetera, you know the drill."
Koreldy hated to admit it, but he was starting to like this woman. She thought like him.
"Ok," he said indulgently. "Why not?"
James was watching this exchange with interest. What was she playing at?
"I killed that guy you two asked me about earlier."
"My father."
"Uh huh," Koreldy said brightly, pleased that she had come to that conclusion so quickly. "He had it coming, though."
Jordan's jaw shifted but she held her savage reply in. "How so?" she managed to force out in an attempt at civility.
"He tried to frame me."
"So you killed him," she said, not able to stay quiet again.
"Uh, yeah, I'm pretty sure that's what I just said."
"That's it?" James said. "Now that wasn't really a very good movie."
"No, I wasn't entertained," Koreldy agreed.
"How about her?" James said after a pause, asking the question they both wanted answered more than anything.
"Her?" came the predictable answer.
"Emily Cavanaugh," he growled back. "Did you kill her as well?"
Koreldy frowned, seemingly genuinely. "Is that what Max told you?" he asked derisively. They did not answer. Koreldy snorted.
"You're pathetic," he told them scathingly. "Now you can die pathetically."
"Hang on a minute," Jordan piped up. "We haven't played this movie enough. You have to explain to us why we are to die. Oh and you may want to give us your life story, they do that a lot in the films."
Koreldy burst into laughter. "You're killing me," he said. "Ok, if you want to do it properly. But how about we skip the life story, huh?"
"Fine," James said, on edge. "So he tried to frame you nearly 25 years ago. You go to jail, get let out about 8 years ago, and decide to kill him now? Why?"
Koreldy frowned. "A fair question," he mused. "He was hard to get to. Plus, you were my first target," he said, nodding his head at Jordan. "I thought it would be worse for him to see you die." He paused, and then added as an afterthought, gesturing towards James, "You would have done, as well. But I didn't know of your existence. Funny that." He chuckled. Jordan leant her head against the wall.
"Good idea," Koreldy said, and he lowered himself to the carpeted floor as well. "Now we're equal."
His words shifted something in Jordan's mind, and she felt the gun at her own hip. Just a little longer…
"You wanted to punish him," Jordan clarified. "Why didn't you? Why didn't you kill me?"
"You were a tad hard to get at. Don't suppose you wondered how the most dangerous cases were attracted to your desk?" he asked, amused. Jordan frowned. Liar! He was blowing his own trumpet, it wasn't true…how could it be? Koreldy laughed, reading the accusation in her eyes.
"Oh yes," he assured her. "My manipulations go further than even you could possibly imagine. You with your multitude of conspiracy theories, and you never even considered…then again you always were more concerned for others than yourself. Silly philosophy if you ask me."
Jordan went cold. He was telling the truth…but how? It escaped her, how he could possibly know her so well, how he could have been close enough to her to slide her 'dangerous' cases…he must have worked there, at the morgue. There was no other explanation. James had closed his eyes, and Jordan shot him a glance, seeing he had a bruise just under the hairline. Concussion, probably, her medical mind kicked in immediately.
"How could you have possibly…" she trailed off, letting a fair amount of awe enter her voice. Maybe she could provoke him into telling her more if she appealed to his less modest side. Providing he had one, of course.
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"Dr. Myra Harding," the woman said, thrusting her hand towards Bug. "I understand you are among the senior Medical Examiners still here?"
Nigel couldn't stop himself. "Which says a lot because the others aren't here," he said, chuckling. Bug sent him a filthy look, which was accompanied by a reproving one from Lily. Harding took no notice of them.
"Yes," Bug said uncertainly, taking her hand.
"I've been called in to perform the autopsy on a…" She paused, consulting her clipboard. "Max Cavanaugh?"
Bug nodded. "I assumed so," he said. "He has already been autopsied, though, did you know?"
Harding gave him an unreadable look. "I'm sure Dr. Macy's findings were not tarnished in any way by his relationship with the man. The DA, however, has asked me to look over it, so I am. This is in no way anything personal."
"Heaven forbid," Nigel said sullenly to the side. Harding shot him a look.
"Dr. Townsend?" she said, squinting at his badge. "If you have anything to say maybe you should get it out before we start. That way there is no resentment."
"Resentment?" he said. "That's a strong word…"
"It isn't directed at you, Dr. Harding," Lily piped up, and Harding turned her strange gaze on her instead.
"District Attorney Walcott?" she chanced a guess. Bug and Nigel exchanged a glance, the woman was forthright.
Lily nodded. "I don't understand why Dr. Macy has to be second guessed. He would not let anything personal stand in the way of his findings."
"I understand," Harding said, genuinely. "However I have been told to do something…I'm doing it. You'd do well to do the same," she cautioned, before asking directions to autopsy one.
"If you two would like to accompany me…" she trailed off, looking from one to the other. They exchanged another surreptitious glance, and followed before she could change her mind.
"So he has done everything?" she confirmed on the way.
Bug nodded. "From what I understand," he replied.
"So we wont need to run screens again?"
"Unless you think they were tampered with," Nigel said sarcastically, whereupon Harding turned.
"I'm not the enemy here," she assured him in a perfunctory manner. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear. While Dr. Macy is absent, I am 'in charge', if you like, here. Which means," she continued, at Nigel's absent expression. "I get to boss you around."
"Lucky us," Nigel muttered under his breath. Bug sent him a strange look.
"Autopsy one, through there," Bug said, pointing. The three piled into the room, where Max's body had been laid, yet again. Nigel grimaced, the man would hate this, hate to be so undignified. Bug looked sadly at the big man, sapped of life, a neat 'Y' cut into his body, and neatly sutured by the Chief ME. Harding hesitated, before picking up a pair of scissors and severing the stitches, one by one.
"Negative to all toxins," Nigel reported, having found the original screen. "Nothing unusual in his system."
"Unusual?" Harding queried, focussed on the stitches.
"Blood alcohol level 0.06," Nigel replied.
"Not drunk, then," she said.
Nigel didn't think she required an answer.
"Ok," she said, having severed the last stitch. "Beginning internal examination."
Thanks for the update, Nigel almost said, but refrained. If she was here to stay, which would be the most prudent thing to do, on Dr. Macy's part, seeing as they were understaffed, he had better be nice. Against his better judgement. He had no idea why, but he didn't like her. Unbeknownst to him, this was a milder case of what Dr. Macy himself had felt, earlier that day, upon allowing the doctor into his morgue.
Nigel tried not to look to hard at Max's face, not wanting to be able to see him talking and moving. He found himself immensely glad that Jordan was not there, she was safe, for the time being, from this whole thing. Or so he thought.