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Part Five: Double Up

July 4, 2006

Nigel raised an eyebrow when Woody and Jordan arrived together. As Jordan approached him, he murmured, "Interrupt something?"

She glanced up at him, her jaw tight. "The usual argument."

"At least you were speaking," Nigel comforted.

She ignored him. "How'd you get here so fast?"

"I was at the concert – two blocks away." He led Jordan to the body.

She gasped. "Damn. Every time I think – check that, hope – I've seen it all."

"I know exactly what you mean, luv."

The victim had been a woman, age impossible to determine at this point. Whatever hair she'd had was charred away. That scent, mingled with the stomach-churning odor of burned flesh and rubber – the soles on her tennis shoes, Jordan guessed – created a stench that had the singular benefit of keeping curious on-lookers at a distance. Jordan sniffed lightly, unable to do more than that. "Nige?"

He looked up. "You, too, huh?"

She nodded.

Woody, having checked in with the uniforms and spoken briefly with one of the few coherent witnesses, came over to them. "Anything?"

"Murder." Jordan was her usual blunt self.

His eyes widened. "How do you figure?"

"Accelerant."

Woody sniffed the air, his mouth crumpling when he caught the sharp odor as well. "God, another one?"

"Could be," Nigel replied. "Could be unrelated."

"Is it wrong to hope it's related?" Woody asked.

"One psycho with diverse m.o.'s versus a couple of different psychos?" Jordan asked.

"Can you blame me?"

She shook her head.

Woody was about to ask another question when one of the uniforms approached him. "Detective Hoyt? I have – um – this woman – she's pretty sure the victim is her sister."

With a glance at Nigel and Jordan, Woody followed the officer. The two M.E.'s shifted into "forensic" mode.

XXXXX

Jordan rubbed her eyes and pushed hair back from her forehead. She refused to look at the clock. She'd been here God-only-knew how long now. Woody had made the i.d. – Cassie Martin. The sister was with Lily and Woody was questioning her, gently, Jordan assumed.

Nigel shook his head. "About all that's left are her shoes – and there's hardly much left of those. How she ran as far as she did…."

Jordan nodded.

Woody tapped on the door and then entered. "Anything?"

Nigel and Jordan both shook their heads. Nigel sighed. "The sister have anything to say?"

Woody shrugged. "Not much. She's pretty distraught."

"Well," Nigel began. "Her sister and all."

"Her twin," Woody amended.

Jordan's eyes went round. "Twin?"

The detective nodded. "So?"

"Identical? Or fraternal?"

"Uh – identical." He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Jordan, I know what you're thinking. Young woman, dark haired, grisly killing… but our victim had nothing – I mean nothing in common with the other girls. She just passed her C.P.A. exam, was engaged – all the other girls were single – hated going out, you name it."

"What does the sister do?" Jordan demanded.

"Huh? What does that….?" He stopped and exhaled slowly. "Oh, my God. She's a model."

Nigel let his gaze travel from Jordan to Woody and back again. "Our killer got the wrong victim?"

Mutely, turning to gaze at the charred remains on the table, Jordan nodded.

Woody sagged against the door jamb. "How am I going to tell her that?"

Better question," Jordan said. "How are you going to tell her she's your only lead?"

END Part Five