A/N: Thankyou Hat-Trick, Lioness-Rampant, eternalgorithm and Orlando-crazy for reviewing Ch7! Heres the next installment...

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters...oh except Dr. Myra Harding! She's mine! Ooh and that lazy detective who couldn't be bothered coming down to the morgue...oh and above all Jack Koreldy! He's mine too! Hehe but apart from that...

Chapter 8: Flights of Freedom

"32 calibre," Nigel reported, glancing at Bug, who was leaning from the bench over the other side of the room. He had effectively divorced himself from the whole investigation; he really wanted no part of it.

"Common," Harding observed. "No way to identify it?"

Nigel shook his head. "Not a chance. Maybe if we had suspects, we could match it against any guns they may have. As it is, we're completely in the dark."

"Speaking of which, the detective this case was reassigned to should be here by now. I'll go ring the precinct. Try not to touch anything."

"I'll do my very best," Nigel assured her with a little sarcasm. She left without another word.

Nigel looked to Bug. "What do you think?" he asked.

"I think you should stop being so disrespectful."

"Disrespectful?" Nigel said incredulously. "Second-guessing Dr. M is disrespectful. Putting Max through that for the second time is disrespectful." He gestured furiously at the steel table. Bug couldn't help agreeing but still felt it would be prudent not to piss off this ME too soon. He sighed.

"Just tone it down a little. She's only doing it under Walcott's instruction.

As if on cue, the DA herself barged into the room. Nigel stared at her, and Bug straightened up. Dr. Harding entered the room, looking flustered.

"Where is he?" the DA demanded.

Nigel shot Dr. Harding a glance, and she shrugged. "Who?" he asked simply.

"Macy," she replied, exasperated. "He is not here."

"How very observant of you," Nigel said. He was in a disagreeable mood already, and this intrusion only fuelled it.

Renee's face hardened. "Where is he?" she repeated.

"Taking some personal leave, I believe."

"Oh what a coincidence," she said sardonically. "At the same time as dear Detective Hoyt?"

Nigel adopted a puzzled expression. "I really have no idea where they are," he said.

Renee looked triumphant. "They're somewhere together?"

"I would assume so," he said mildly.

"Where?" she asked, clearly incensed.

"How should I know?" Nigel said with the air of one who had been greatly wronged. "Why don't you call him?" Renee stared at him furiously, cursed and left the room. Bug stared after her.

"What was that all about?" he wondered. Harding gave them both hard looks.

"I hope you don't know where they are," she told them, looking for any sign of guilt.

"I know what they're doing," he said. "And it isn't anything that should concern you."

Harding shook her head and continued with the examination.

"Did you get onto the detective?" Bug asked.

Harding looked up. "He doesn't want to get too involved. I'm to send to report over when I'm done." There was a look of distaste on her face. Nigel noted it and was softened somewhat.

"Where's the trace evidence?" she asked suddenly.

"I'll go get it," he said. He came back in a matter of minutes with a transparent bag. Harding opened it, and pulled three smaller bags out. Disregarding the two that had dirt and other environmental traces, she focussed on the third one.

"Hair," she said, and consulted the clipboard. "Dr. Macy has it down as Dr. Cavanaugh's."

Nigel started and looked at the board over her shoulder. It indeed identified that hair as Jordan's.

"I better run it again," he said anxiously. Harding did not argue. Nigel came back, nodding his head.

"Its hers," he said. Harding looked at him suspiciously.

"You'd better tell me what happened. I'm completely in the dark here."

Nigel glanced at Bug who nodded his encouragement.

"Jordan…ah, I mean Dr. Cavanaugh, got an anonymous tip," he said, and waited.

"Convenient," Harding said dryly. "And?"

"She followed it up. Went to the Old Wharves, where she found her father."

"And?" Harding probed. "Who arrived next?"

"Dr. Macy and Detective Hoyt."

Harding paused. "Alright. Lets leave the world of fact and delve into the more personal side of this saga that you have just related," she said scathingly. "Who is Detective Hoyt and how was he informed of the body at the wharves?"

There was no doubt, not much escaped this savvy doctor, and Nigel realised he should stop beating around the bush.

"Detective Hoyt is a friend of ours."

"A friend of who's exactly…?"

"Ours," he repeated, gesturing to Bug and himself. "Garret, Jordan and Lily as well."

"Is that all? I want all the details here, or I wont be able to help you."

"That's all," Nigel said firmly. He did not want to divulge his suspicions about the relationship between Woody and the wayward ME they were discussing, as he did not feel it was relevant, nor appropriate.

"And Dr. Macy? I understand from the casual use of his first name it's not the normal boss/employee relationship with you lot?"

"No," Nigel acquiesced. "We're all friends here," he said, almost sarcastically.

"How friendly?" she probed. Nigel flared up.

"Why does it matter?"

"I'm just wondering!" she said defensively. "So how did they come to find the body?"

Nigel thought back. Lily had informed him of the turn of events just before Max's body came in, and he found he could relate it with ease.

"I see," she said when he had finished. "So it was a coincidence that Detective Hoyt was there…"

"Pretty much. Like I said, Dr. M went along when they discovered Jordan was already there, fearing the worst."

"As you do," Harding remarked. "So where does this leave us?"

"Where it did last night," Bug said. "We have nothing."

Harding frowned. "And the hair is what, transparent? Dr. Cavanaugh's hair is on the body!"

Bug was alarmed. It had only just occurred to him that Jordan could be a suspect. He glanced at Nigel; seemed it was the same for him.

"No," Nigel said. "You can't think…"

"She's a suspect now, guys," Harding said reluctantly. "Its her…"

"Hair, we know!" Nigel exploded. "There is no way in hell that she could ever…" he trailed off.

Dr. Harding eyed him curiously. "What makes you say that?"

Nigel's face darkened and he did not reply. His dislike for the upfront doctor intensified tenfold.

"Look, I don't want to believe that his own daughter murdered him, but the evidence…"

"The evidence?" Bug said. Nigel turned. "A hair? She was there! You think she didn't try to revive him, check if he was alive? It doesn't mean she killed him!"

Harding adopted an amused expression that only caused to infuriate the two doctors more.

"How about I ring the detective?" she said in an attempt to placate them, and walked out, two irate stares boring into her retreating back.

--------

"I had my ways," Koreldy answered dramatically. Jordan sent another glance towards James; his eyes were still obstinately closed.

"You never answered our question properly," Jordan said.

"I thought that was clear," he was clearly disgruntled. He was finding it was considerably more difficult to admit to not murdering someone than it was to confess that he had. Jordan glared at him.

"Not to me," she assured him.

"I didn't kill your stupid mother!" he said. "Probably should have, though!"

"Well who did?" she said, heart sinking into her stomach.

"How should I know?" he said blandly. "I didn't even know he was married!"

Jordan frowned at the inconsistency. "And yet you know all about me…"

He could have rolled his eyes. "I didn't give a damn before I went to jail," he said. "But I had time to think it over. A long time."

"I'm sure you did," she said, but her fire was rapidly dissipated. She suddenly realised how ridiculous this entire situation was. The three of them, sitting on the floor, discussing calmly who murdered who and why. She let out a harsh laugh, which served only to wake James. He straightened, looked around groggily and remembered where they were.

"Welcome back," Koreldy said dryly. James cleared his throat.

"It seems we have come to a wall," Jordan observed calmly. "What do we do now?"

"Well if we're all done with our sob-stories, I believe we can get on with the killing-revenge-y part."

"Mm good idea," Jordan agreed, and Koreldy hesitated. It was enough for Jordan – she grappled with her gun and had it pointed at Koreldy within five seconds. He stared at it, surprise mingled with irritation crossing his face. He threw back his head and roared with laughter.

"This just keeps getting better!" he said. James gingerly got to his feet and leant against the wall. For the first time he stared around the room. It was completely bare, except for a picture on the far wall. James stared at it for a moment, sure his eyes were deceiving him. It was, undeniably, a blank, grey wall.

"You should probably put the gun down," she said, looking to the offending object in loosely grasped in his hand. As if only just remembering it, he looked at it, and then raised it.

"One gun per side," he said. "Stalemate!"

Not quite, Jordan said, disturbed. She had two people to protect; he only had himself. He had the upper hand, and he knew it.

"That's it," Woody said, undoing his seatbelt and staring ahead doggedly. "I can't stand this."

Garret wholeheartedly agreed; he had just been waiting for Woody to say something. He grunted in reply and closed the car door behind him quietly. They crept towards the house, slowly, deliberately.

"Glad we're done waiting," Woody growled.

Without warning, Koreldy jerked the gun to the left and fired. Jordan jumped, and her head whipped around. James had thrown himself to the floor to escape the bullet, however, it had grazed his shoulder. She fired twice, blindly, and heard a shriek, followed by a thump.

The door crashed open, and Woody stood there, gun raised. Jordan met his eyes and the question in them was almost unbearable. Her eyes cleared and she saw Koreldy, lying on the ground. She bent down, and Woody kept the gun on her. Garret watched, horrified.

"He's alive," she said in a low voice, standing up. Garret dashed forward.

"Call an ambulance," he said unnecessarily. Woody ignored him; he was staring at Jordan. There was a sound from behind, and all three turned. Jordan winced as the recognition dawned on the detective's face.

"Your brother," he said to Jordan. "Adam Macklin?"

"Very good," she said disdainfully, and dropped again to her knees beside her brother.

"What now?" she whispered.

"Why are you asking me?" he said through gritted teeth. "Can't you guess? Koreldy dies, you are arrested for his murder because the only witness is a wanted felon!" His voice had risen slightly. Woody glared at him, a glare that James returned in kind.

Garret's voice was muffled to Jordan, as he dialled a number and called for an ambulance.

"Please," she said to Woody, not even knowing what she was pleading for. He frowned.

"What?" he said in a small voice. "What do you want?"

She shook her head. "You ok?" she had turned back to her brother.

"I'll live," he said, and fought to get to his feet. Jordan pulled him up by his good arm.

"Maybe if I grab that gun and take you hostage?" he said under his breath so only Jordan could hear.

"Not advisable," she hissed back. Garret had stood.

"Glad we found you," he said, an attempt at a normal voice.

Jordan glared at him. She was about to lose the last remaining member of her family, and pointlessly! He hadn't meant to kill his father, she was sure of it. And now they would all suffer. And for what? Jordan couldn't quite out her finger on it. Her mother's infidelity? It was easy to blame her, but it hadn't been that. Her father, giving James up in the first place? Maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe…ah! She inwardly cursed herself. These maybes would send her crazy. Probably already had.

"What exactly is the situation here?" she asked loudly.

"We have a critically injured man," Garret said mildly.

"Gee thanks," Jordan couldn't help saying. Woody shot her a look, and finally lowered his gun. He stepped back to talk with Garret.

James caught her eyes. His were filled with pain.

"He didn't kill her," he said in a low voice. Jordan blinked.

"It doesn't fit," she agreed, more calm at this revelation than she thought she should be. "Hey there's always next week," she joked weakly. James glanced to the gun in her hand.

"Damn," he murmured, and stepped forward, putting his arms around her. She leant into him and squeezed back, but did not let go of the feeling that was still, even now, accumulating within her. Suddenly, James snatched the gun from her hand and pulled away. Jordan stared at him, question in her eyes. Woody had noted the movement.

"Drop it," he cautioned, still disturbed at the scene he had just witnessed between them. James stared at the ceiling, then slowly, deliberately, placed the gun at Jordan's head. She closed her eyes.

"James," she said quietly so only he could hear. "I hope you know what you're doing."

He answered her with what could only be interpreted as a smile.

"Drop it!" Woody shouted.

"Don't be stupid," James said in a drawling voice, the one he put on with such ease. James pushed Jordan gently towards the door, and she complied. They walked slowly, towards the door. Jordan met Woody's eyes, and he frowned suspiciously at her.

"Don't come closer…" James said, brow furrowed in concentration. He had reached the door. With an almost undetectable pat, and the tiniest of 'goodbyes', he shoved her into Woody's arms and ran out of the room. Jordan put her own force into the push, succeeding in toppling the detective over. He pushed her roughly off him and scrambled to his feet, chasing after her brother.

"He's gone," Garret said from the floor. Jordan nodded automatically, picked herself up off the floor and walked slowly out of the room, not caring to look back.

--------

"That's what I said," Dr. Harding was saying to a hard-faced man, who had accompanied her to the morgue. "They refuse to consider it."

"Its definitely her hair?" the detective asked. Harding nodded.

"No question," she said.

"And has anyone thought of bringing her in for questioning?" the man asked sardonically.

"What an idea," Harding said, thoroughly fed up with this man's manner. "Not hard to see how you made detective."

The man glanced at her, eyebrow raised.

"Look," she started. "If these people say she would not kill her father, I am inclined to believe them. Why would they lie?"

The detective rolled his eyes, not bothering to dignify the question with an answer.

Nigel pushed the door open; ignoring the dirty stare the detective was sending him. His eyes were for Dr. Harding.

"You said TOD was around 2:30pm the day of the murder?" he said. She nodded in confirmation.

"That's what Dr. Macy had written down."

"Jordan would have been here," he said. "She has an alibi."

"Would have been?" the detective queried. "You don't know?"

Nigel shifted uncomfortably. "I wasn't exactly making a note of when every member of the morgue staff was here," he said, glancing from Harding to the detective.

"Then why are you here?"

Nigel summoned his best withering look. "To suggest we call either Garret or Woody and ask if she was with them."

Harding sighed. "Call them," she said, and Nigel gave her a curt nod before turning on his heel and leaving the room. Dr. Harding glanced at the detective.

"Happy?" she asked.

"Ecstatic," the detective assured her dryly.

--------

The night air was a welcome distraction, but one that did not last nearly as long as she would have liked. Her legs had taken her to back yard of Koreldy's place, the yard she imagined her brother had sprinted through during his rash flight for freedom. And the yard her friend had pursued him through.

Jordan could not get her head around it. She had barely begun to comprehend her father's death, let alone harbour any feelings of intense revenge for his killer. It was nothing like her mother. She had had 25 odd years to stew on it, and though she could not tell if the sense of revenge that was associated with the older murder dulled or grew stronger with time, she could differentiate between the two.

"Jordan?"

She turned slowly. She wasn't sure she could ever be surprised about anything ever again. The man who had called her name was again startled by the bland look of calm that had taken over her face.

"He got away."

A slight frown appeared on Jordan's face.

"Good," she said vehemently.

"He's a murderer," Woody said, stung. "Last time I checked you didn't condone murder."

"Last time I checked God doesn't condone murder," Jordan said with feeling. "Yet you and I still have jobs. How does that work?"

Woody closed his eyes and looked away.

"Yeah, we do have jobs," he said after a pause. "Maybe you should remember that."

"What if I don't want a job?" Jordan said mildly. "I'm not exactly in the mood for…" she stopped, the sudden image of her father stretched out on a cold autopsy table. She pressed her teeth together until it hurt. It was a distraction.

"What do you want me to say?" Woody asked, at a loss, his concern for the woman standing to damn stubbornly in front of him expressing itself in anger.

"Funny," she said icily. "I was about to ask the same thing."

Woody looked at her. "Fine," he said, throwing his hands up. "Fine. I have to go deal this whole damn mess."

Jordan fumed. "I didn't ask you to follow. I actually seem to remember expressly telling you not to."

Woody's eyes changed from heated anger to icy clarity. "I won't next time," he said coldly, turning.

"Finally got the message, did you?" she spat at his retreating back, not even slightly regretting her harsh words. Her eyes filled with tears as she watched another of her 'pillars' walk away, the conflicting emotions within her nigh on overbearing. One part of her wished to never see him again, the other wanted him to never leave her side.

Garret found her seated on the cool grass, legs tucked under her body neatly, head bowed slightly. He stood behind her somewhat uncertainly, before joining her on the ground.

"Hey," he said simply, in a low, rumbling voice. She didn't acknowledge him. "So he do it?"

"Yeah," she said after a silence. "Yeah he did."

"Ok, so he did it, what about it?"

Jordan's mouth twisted. "No," she said, confirming Garret's suspicion.

"Ok," he said, throwing the ball into her court. She watched it fly past her, not bothering to catch it or hit it back.

"I'm sorry this had to happen," Garret said after a while, quite inadequately.

"I'm sorry you two got involved," Jordan said, but with no venom.

"Don't be too hard on him," Garret said.

"Who says I'm being hard on him?" she said. "Its really not on the top of my 'to deal with' list at the moment."

"What is?"

Jordan lifted her head and looked at Garret. Not able to come up with a decent answer, she closed he eyes and shook her head.

"Are you coming home?"

Home. What was home? She wasn't even sure if she had a home anymore. A Boston without her father was most certainly not home.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully.

"Look," Garret said. "I hate to have to say this, but it has to be said. Renee has called in another ME and a detective to conduct the…investigation."

"Investigation over, Koreldy did it," she said blandly.

"I don't know that they'll see it that way," Garret said gently. "Your hair was found on the…on his body."

Jordan's throat constricted as the image of her father lying dead on the ground crashed its way into her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears to leave her, willing herself to be strong.

But she lost the battle. Her shoulders slumped and started to shake, and her fists clenched together. Garret moved closer to her, put his arms around her and held her, safe, secure. It was only then that the grief that she had been forcing down ever since her father had been killed escaped her in a rush of tears, and she sobbed openly, hanging onto her old friend for dear life.