A/N: This chapter is shorter than my usual lengthy tomes, but I did want to hurry and post before another computer disaster occurred. I am really appreciative of the reviews. I love the feedback and the comments - but most of all, I am glad you all seem to be enjoying the story!
The usual disclaimers apply -- I don't own the CJ characters, just the few extras I've added.
PART XV - CLUE ME IN
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The shadows of the afternoon had shifted. Jordan sat in the motel room alone, Haley's file untouched on the bed next to her. She was weary, probably from all the stress and anxiety of her failed meeting with Woody and the subsequent betrayal. But there was something else now, too. Some small feeling rising from the pit of her stomach. She was used to being alone, used to walking through the dark streets and alleys of Boston, used to roaming among the dead. But now, for what seemed like the first time, she felt alone and afraid. Actually afraid. Like she had when she was little, sneaking up the steps of the old judge's house after his wife was rumored to have killed him. She only ran up to the door once, on a dare. Nothing else could've gotten her to go besides her fear of losing her pride. But now Woody had thrown her out of his life for good. He was not going to be around to pick up any pieces, to make sure she was safe and sound and as happy as she got in her own twisted way. She was alone and someone was following her.
She picked up Haley's cryptic file again, feeling certain that if she could only solve the mystery she could be safe. His brief handwritten notes kept surfacing between the neatly typed pages of highly confidential and sensitive reports, and she stared at them again and again, knowing she was missing something. "Damn it!" she cried out in frustration. She grabbed a beer from the mini bar and deftly untwisted the top without an opener. The amber liquid swirled in her mouth and she started to calm down. She'd never figure it out if she couldn't focus. If and when Cal ever came back, they could role play it. Sort out the crime and the scene the way she had always done it like her father…
Just the thought of her father made her angry. After all, he'd been the first in a long string of males to have lied to her over and over again, concealing things and ultimately abandoning her. She had no idea where he was, he'd disappeared as mysteriously as he'd vanished the day after they'd shared chowder on the roof of the building that housed the morgue. She thought they'd called a truce. Another lie. Garret had done the same thing…Lied and concealed evidence and left the morgue without a fight…Although how could you really fight the fact that you broke the law? Just when you thought you knew someone…Her thoughts immediately went to Woody. He had suddenly -- changed. Become a stranger seemingly overnight. She tried in vain to erase the detective from her mind, but she could see them dancing at The Pogue, feel his arm on her back as she was performing a routine autopsy, see him helping her sorry, drunken ass home after the morgue Christmas party, hear him whisper to her "It could have been you…" with emotion and feeling and…love. Her thoughts came back to the present, refusing to deal with the stone look Woody had given her. Her wounds were too raw, and she truly needed to focus if she was ever to recapture the feeling of being safe.
Jordan slowly and methodically spread the numerous sheets of paper out again on the bed. But when she started to look at the sketch of notes from the autopsies, she found another blaring inconsistency. Drew had been expecting three bodies when he'd shown up at her scene. Now she was getting somewhere. She settled back onto the bed, her legs crossed and her elbows resting on her knees, deep in concentration. Just who had Drew been expecting to find? She immediately routed the information to Garret via voice mail, informing him nonchalantly of her approximate whereabouts and the missing third body, then hung up before the normal parameters of a tapped phone could root her out. Knowing Garret, he'd probably enlisted Nigel's help by now to trace any incoming calls and find her, and she was not ready to face any of them.
"How in the hell are you going to deal with this, Jo?" a voice called as the door opened. She looked up, startled to find Cal there, and opened her mouth to greet him. But no words came. "I mean, how the hell can Woody be so damned self-righteous?" Cal started in on Woody, harking back to their childhood when his older brother needed to prove himself right time and again. Jordan just sat there, listening, unsure of how to act. She had finally betrayed Woody with the man in front of her -- the one who was mad as hell about Woody's rejection of her -- and she couldn't muster the energy to explain that Woody was basing that rejection on a major misunderstanding involving the two parties in the room. All the usual defenses were set aside in favor of compassion for the man who had helped her evade capture in the last few days. But she felt something akin to loathing pull up out of her stomach, and she turned away, not knowing if it was Cal she hated for the simple fact that he'd been there, been concerned for her safety, been accessible. Or if she hated Woody for his stubborn blindness and his unfounded hatred for his brother. Or if she hated herself. And Cal rambled on, for once not keying in to her emotions, not noticing her silence.
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Garret and Nigel drove up I-95 in silence. Nigel was more than glad that he'd brought a book. He lifted his eyes briefly from the Kay Scarpetta thriller to glance over at Doctor Macy, whose jaw was still clenched in a way that alerted everyone not to interrupt him. Nigel didn't know if he was thinking about Jordan and the purpose of their little road trip or if he was thinking about Slocum, who had commanded Garret to alert him immediately should he find anything to support Bug's findings. The arrogant ass…As if he, Slocum, would know the first thing about finding Jordan. Bloody hell! What a tangled mess it was all turning out to be!
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The awkward silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Cal tried to focus his attention anywhere else in the room, but his eyes kept coming back to her. He had finally caught the look in her eyes, the discomfort, and had stopped his rambling. He shuffled his feet nervously, tapping on the floor to some rhythm of his own making.
Jordan had turned back to the task at hand, scanning Haley's file, looking for the "who". If Haley had been expecting three bodies, just what had happened to the third?
She had noticed that the original agenda from the afternoon had been replaced, too. Impossible. Jordan had seen Drew scribbling notes on the tidy 'to-do' list with her own eyes before he'd set the file down during the second autopsy. He was so thorough. "Autopsy Body One". "Review SET file". "Autopsy Body Two". "Take ME to Dinner" had been the thing scrawled on the bottom of the list. She had been amused to see herself actually on his agenda, as a point not to be missed. He had scribbled a few notes about each of the bodies. But Haley's precise agenda was set just slightly out of order in the file now and had none of the information she'd seen him write. What, exactly, was a SET file? She thought back to their conversation during the autopsies.
"Look, I trust you, Jordan. And you of all people know that doesn't come easy -- for either of us. But I need to know exactly how these agents died…I want you to do the autopsies. Share the results with me before you write up your report."
'Strange,' she thought. 'What about the FBI's own medical examiner? Their own forensic experts? They were unusually absent from the room.' She had smiled gamely, relieved that there would be no Feds looking over her shoulder anyway. "No problem. Just tell me what I'm looking for."
Haley's face had paled slightly, but he recovered quickly. "I want this done with no preconceived ideas on your part. Just promise me you'll let me know what you find as soon as you find it."
"Kinda' hard to avoid when you're right here," she stated, then indicated that he needed to slide around to the other side of the table. He was in her way. She couldn't get to the gunshot wound. And when she finally did get close enough to pull back the skin slightly, she was more than surprised. She reviewed the notes she'd jotted about the position of the bodies she and Bug had found. There had been no indication that it was personal, just some drive-by for the guy on the table. But of course the second victim had caused them to look a little more closely at the forensics. Only trouble was, she didn't have Bug's notes. She'd have to catch up with him. But now she had to double-check her findings…Haley was watching her face for any sign of a conclusive finding. She wasn't ready to give one. "Powder burns." She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "He was shot at close range. Possibly execution-style…Wanna' tell me what you think is going on?"
Drew shook his head. "Not yet…Just finish the autopsies. Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow." He was vague. It shouldn't have surprised her. And she really didn't know him well enough to know all of his mannerisms -- not like Woody when he had his theories about a case. Her eyes clouded for an instant at the thought of him, but she turned back to her work, hoping to extract the bullet. It wasn't there.
"Thorough job…The bullet's gone." But she was surprised. The killer couldn't possibly have had enough time to extract a bullet. A patrol car had been there within minutes.
"Can you tell what kind of gun was used?" Haley waited, moving back toward her. "It's important." He stressed the last word and finally it clicked for Jordan. Inside job.
She put down the scalpel and pulled off her gloves. "Alright. I want to know what's going on." And he had given her the briefest briefing on the case. An undercover job. His own hand-picked agents. His responsibility. End of story.
Although Jordan knew Haley had been holding back information, it hadn't really bothered her. Until now. She decided to dial his number, but was told curtly that he was not in. She looked back at the agenda, not seeing any mention of the autopsies, the SET file or the dinner -- the notes she'd seem him scratch off, his letters block-style and precise. The clearing of Cal's throat caused her to snap out of her concentrated state and look up at him. His eyes were clouded over.
"Were you listening to me, Jordan?" he asked. She looked at him guiltily and shook her head while he repeated himself patiently, finishing with. "It's a temporary solution, Jordan." Cal's statement was true, but admitting he was right meant she would also have to concede that she was still in no position to protect herself. And so she would fall back on Cal for his advice - and his companionship, too, but not in the sense that Woody was most likely still imagining. "Look," he said, "I know what you're thinking…But I've been in tight spots before and I think this will at least help…"
She looked at the bottle, nodded in defeat and walked toward the bathroom, motioning for him to follow. He really had no idea what she was thinking. She wasn't sure she did either…Her mind was swimming in several different directions. But she attempting a positive smile, wanting to hurry so she could get back to the file and they could finally try the role-playing that accompanied most of her cases. Well, she thought gamely, maybe I'll be more normal as a redhead.
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