A/N: Lioness-Rampant - About making Woody and Jordan reconcile and get together...I'm not sure. Maybe...but I'm pretty pissed at Woody at the moment...hehe maybe I wont be able to write any W/J pairing stuff until they've resolved the events of Jump Push Fall...haha.

Well we'll see what happens. I might tack in a cheesy last chapter. As the chapter title suggests...there is a lot of doubt flying around about whether or not she killed him...scary! Ah well it will all be resolved in the end...If I'm feeling nice...

Chapter 9: Seeds of Doubt #1

There was a look on Jordan's face. It was a look none of them had really seen before, not in its entirety. Woody could have told them what it meant, but Woody was not there. He had been strangely absent ever since he, Garret and Jordan had returned to Boston in the early hours of the morning.

Nigel was in truth extremely surprised to see her back here. He hadn't expected to see her for at least a month, if history was anything to go by. He had expected her to be long gone. And from what he had heard Garret tell Lily when they caught a few minutes out of the earshot of the nosy Dr. Harding, she almost had been.

Jordan herself was aware of the looks that were being exchanged over her head, and intensely grateful that Garret had not joined in the mutterings and glances. She had steeled herself, and was now going to confront the entire mess head on, knowing from experience that if a necklace had a knot in it, to stuff it in your jewellery box and forget about it until you really needed it was not the way to go about it. And this was one hell of a knot. She had decided to tackle it, one link of the chain at a time. First link? Dr. Harding.

Jordan pushed open the door of the small-but-serviceable office that Dr. Harding had been given. The woman stood, surprised.

"Can I help you?"

Jordan stepped inside, and thrust her hand forward.

"Dr. Cavanaugh," she said, and could have laughed at the startled look on the ME's face. Harding stood abruptly.

"I didn't think you'd be coming in," she said uncertainly. Jordan shrugged.

"I work here," she said simply, daring the newcomer to challenge her. Harding merely shrugged.

"Myra Harding," she said pleasantly, taking Jordan's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. I understand I need to be questioned?"

Harding frowned slightly. "That doesn't bother you?" she asked unexpectedly.

"Well, yes," Jordan confessed. "But it has to be done so I may as well just…" she trailed off, shrugging as if it was not the sole thing consuming her mind and attention. Harding surveyed her, and nodded.

"I'll call the detective," she said, and turned away to the phone, speaking in a low voice. Jordan waited, adopting a patient stance, which she was anything but.

"He's not busy at the moment," Harding said wryly, remembering the detective's unwillingness to come down to the morgue and follow up his case. "You can go down there…on second thoughts, I'll accompany you."

Jordan nodded and walked out, followed closely by Dr. Harding.

She had been on the receiving end of some police interviews in her time, but it never got any easier. It didn't help that she had seen thousands of these interviews from behind the glass mirror, had watched the police interrogate suspects and criminals alike, had wished them to stumble and make a mistake, not remembering how easy it was for an innocent person to be befuddled and confused by the whole process. She sat, shifting in the chair every now and then, waiting for the door to open.

Open it did, and in swaggered, for there was no other word for it, who she could only surmise was the detective on the case.

"Dr. Cavanaugh," he said, sitting in the chair opposite her. Jordan could not help her eyes flickering to where she knew Dr. Harding was standing.

"Yes," she replied.

"Detective Mathers." She could not fathom why he was extending this courtesy to her; she had never witnessed a detective exchange names with a suspect before. She nodded and waited for him to begin. He clicked the tape recorder on.

"This interview with Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh on the 6th of September 2005 is in regards to the murder of Mr. Max Cavanaugh on the 3rd of September. Lets start with the cliché shall we? Where were you in the afternoon of the 3rd of September?"

"I was at the morgue."

"Where you work."

"Yes."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

"Exactly what time did the…murder take place?" she asked, knowing that the detective could hear the pain in her voice.

"Around 2-2:30pm."

The blood drained from Jordan's face, and she looked around wildly.

"What is it, Dr. Cavanaugh?"

Behind the glass, Dr. Harding was watching intently, not knowing what to make of Jordan's obviously horrified expression. Such was the intensity of the interview, Harding jumped at the shuffle of footsteps behind her.

"Sorry," a gruff voice apologised. A man was standing slightly behind her, staring into the window, frowning.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" she said. The man tore his eyes away from the window and stared at her.

"Detective Hoyt," he said.

"Ah," Harding said. "Apologies. I'm Dr. Harding, on the Cavanaugh case."

"I see," Woody said in a perfect imitation of her polite tone. "Nice to meet you." Harding moved over to allow the detective a better view. She turned back.

"I wasn't there," Jordan was saying, hoarsely. "I went to get lunch." She couldn't believe this. Of all the times, of all the damn places she could be… She was going down.

"Do you want a lawyer present?" Mathers asked. Jordan looked at him, startled.

"No," she said decidedly. "No I'll be fine."

Mathers nodded. "So no one can verify your whereabouts at the time of the murder." She shook her head, closing her eyes.

"Did you murder your father?"

Jordan's head snapped up.

"No," she said, voice strong again. "No, I did not."

"Just thought I'd ask," Mathers said blandly. "You're aware your hair was on his body?"

"Yes."

Mathers sighed. "How about you tell me everything that happened? I mean everything. From the murder to your being here. Lie and I can't help you."

Jordan nodded, figuring she was screwed anyway so it didn't matter. She knew how these things worked. Woody was obviously thinking along the same lines, his hands were gripping the window sill, knuckles white, listening intently, as Jordan related the story, not omitting a single detail, to Mathers, a detective Woody knew had a reputation for cracking people in the interrogation room. Even people who were innocent. Despite their harsh exchange of words before, he cared very much about her fate, and knew beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt that she did not, could not kill her father.

"So this brother. He grabbed your gun. You didn't try to hang on?"

"He's a lot stronger than me, Detective." She was not going to tell him that she did all in her power to help her brother, the last remaining member of her family. She was sure that he hadn't murdered Tom Malden in cold blood, just like Woody was sure about her. She had helped him, and would continue to do all in her power to do so.

"I see," Mathers said. "And he ran?"

"Yes. Detective Hoyt chased him but he got away."

Behind the glass, Dr. Harding finally realised who Detective Hoyt was. She turned to the man she had spoken to, who had an expression of pain and suspense on his face as he watched the interview take place.

Interesting, she mused. The plot thickens.

"He was the only other person who heard Jack Koreldy confess?" Mathers asked.

"Yes," she said, hanging her head. She suddenly remembered that he was dead, and she would be copping the rap for his murder as well.

"You understand that this is not good?"

"You think?" Jordan said sarcastically, staring out the window, trying to banish the tears that were threatening to flow.

"Alright," Mathers said, standing. "Interview suspended at 12:13pm." He clicked the tape off. "I'll be back soon. I have to chase a couple of things up. How about you come down to the holding cells and we'll set you up…just until we have sorted everything out."

Jordan nodded fiercely. A great determination swept over her. She would not bow. She would hold her head high and take it as it came. Which is what she did. She lifted her chin as Mathers gripped her below her elbow, eyes glinting as he led her out, daring the world to throw another hurdle in her way.

Woody watched her go, anguish written on his honest features. "The holding cells?" he muttered in disbelief. Harding watched her also, moved by her obvious defiance. She found herself believing the ME.

"Hey," she said soothingly to the detective. "I'll keep you updated, ok? I wouldn't count on Mathers to do it."

Woody stared at her, as if only just seeing her. "Right," he said, and walked off. Harding shrugged, and raised her eyebrows at the returning Det. Mathers.

"What do you think?" she said. He frowned.

"I'm not buying it," he said.

"You think she did it."

"I do."

"Interesting," she said. "Well I better get back to the morgue and find your evidence for you, hadn't I?"

--------

It would be so easy to sleep. Just to lay her head down and never lift it, never again be subjected to the tiring ways of the world she lived in. She was just so damn weary! The events of the past few days had sapped her of any energy that may have remained in her, and now all she wanted was peace. Blessed oblivion.

But she would not succumb, she never could. She was strong, she had been strong up to this point, and all the pain would have been for nothing if she were to give up today. So she plodded on. One foot in front of the other, she thought, making it her mantra, as she lay her forehead against the cold stone that was the wall of the cell. It wasn't as though she had never spent the odd night in a holding cell, when she went off the rails, but it was different this time. She was genuinely innocent.

She had not even been in there half an hour, before she had a visitor. It was Dr. Harding.

"Dr. Cavanaugh?" she said uncertainly, as the guard opened the door.

"Dr. Harding," Jordan said, not bothering to stand. "Have a seat."

Harding smiled at the irony in her voice, and stayed standing.

"If there's anything you didn't tell him, please tell me. I believe you."

"You do?" Jordan asked, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah. But Mathers doesn't."

Jordan's eyes narrowed. "I'm a medical examiner, too, you know. I've played this game before."

"Which game?" Harding asked innocently.

"The bad cop good doctor game," she said savagely.

"I do like that game," Harding said. "But do you think I would be stupid enough to try it on a fellow player?"

Jordan rested her head against the wall. "I really don't care anymore," she said, honestly, the worry and weariness she was feeling creeping into her voice. Harding softened even more, if that was possible. This woman is either real innocent or a real good actor, she decided.

"So tell me. Anything you left out?"

Jordan looked up at her. "I helped him escape."

"James," Harding confirmed, and Jordan nodded, surprised she remembered the name. "You gave him your gun."

"Not exactly," she said. "But I didn't exactly yank it back off him."

"Ok," Harding said, pleased that she seemed to be in the woman's confidence. How uneducated she was. "Why?"

Jordan sat up straighter and stared at the woman. The question had startled her. "He's my brother," she said uncertainly. Harding raised her eyebrow.

"You've met him, what, three times? Until a couple of years ago you didn't even know he existed!"

Jordan's eyes narrowed, but she remained silent.

Harding continued. "He comes, helps you find your father's murderer, puts you in danger, then scarpers, with your help. You risk your own freedom to help him escape, when you know he is a murderer?"

Jordan cleared her throat. "He is not a murderer," she said in a low, dangerous voice.

"Ah of course. This is your perverted sense of justice kicking in."

Jordan snapped. She stood.

"Don't you talk like you know me," she said, voice raised. "You don't know the first damn thing about me. Just get out of here."

They were both standing, looking into each other's eyes. The challenge was there, but Harding turned it down. She gave one last exasperated look before turning on her heel and striding out of the cell. Jordan fell back onto the bed, and placed her head back on the cool cement walls, mind completely blank.

------

"There's nothing pinning anyone to the murder except her," Nigel said to Garret.

"But we know she didn't do it," Garret said. Nigel started. He hadn't even begun to contemplate that she may have, somehow, killed her father. The first small shred of doubt crept into his mind. He stared at Garret, who read the doubt in his eyes.

"There is no way," he said firmly. Nigel could see that the Chief ME would never, never doubt her, not even when all the odds were stacked against her and even her dearest friends did not believe her. Garret would remain true. The thought somewhat disturbed Nigel, he hoped beyond hope that she was innocent, if only to spare Garret the pain of her betrayal.

"Can they pin her on the hair?" Nigel asked. Garret looked away.

"You know how it works," he replied, uncertain. "Means, motive, opportunity, plus the forensic evidence."

"She had means," Nigel said.

"The bullet didn't match her gun," Garret said quickly, remembering the test he had run earlier that day.

"Doesn't mean she couldn't have got another one," he countered. Garret looked at him sharply. Nigel put his hands up. "I'm just trying to work through this," he said.

Garret hesitated, then nodded. "She also had opportunity."

"But no motive."

"No," he said. Nigel paused.

"That we know of," he said.

"No," Garret repeated. "Its not even remotely possible, Nigel. We have to fiund a way to pin Koreldy."

"He's dead," Nigel pointed out.

"All the better for us," Garret said stonily, and stalked out. Nigel watched him go. The small seed that was doubt had erupted in his mind, leaving him uncertain of everything, even Garret's motives seem impure in his mind. He shook his head, frowning fiercly, and left the room.

Review! Please! lol. Ok. No but seriously its so fun to read... very encouraging...thanks to the people who have already reviewed!