Author: AthenaIceGoddess
Title:Jumping In
Spoilers: Jump Push Fall
Angst/Romance/Drama
Summary: Just my take on what might happen post Jump Push Fall. Lots of WJ angst, so if you aren't a shipper... probably shouldn't read this one
Disclaimer: I own no part of Crossing Jordan. If I did, do you think I would be writing fanfiction?
Author's Note: This is my first CJ fanfic, so be make sure you r&r to tell me if it was great, horrible, want more... I can't tell if you don't review!
Chapter 3
I Hope you're Happy
That evening, Jordan made good on her promise to do some digging into the Jane Doe's backgrounds. She left early, promping Slokum to mutter 'I knew it wouldn't last...' under his breath as she left the morgue. hey, it wasn't as if she didn't have all of her work done. There was nothing left for her to do.
Armed with the two Jane Doe's photos, she headed for the slums of Boston, where most of the hookers hung out. Luck was with her, it seemed. There were seven or eight of the women of questionable virtue working the street corner she stopped at.
Hopping out of her car and pulling on a pair of woolly gloves, Jordan targeted a young- very young, she couldn't have been more than 17- brunette in a leather micro mini, and walked over.
"How you doing?" Jordan asked, smiling and trying to be friendly. The brunette just stared sullenly at her and took a drag on her cigarette.
" I usually don't do women, but you're cute, so I'll make an exception. Fifty for a-" Jordan shook her head, wondering what made this lady take up this particualr profession, and wondering how long it would take before she ended up in the morgue.
"That's not what I'm here for. I was wondering if you know either of these girls?" She held up the photographs, but the girl shook her head and ran down the street.
"Guess not." Jordan muttered, going up to the next woman, an aging redhead with a huge bust and long legs.
"I'm not a cop, Girl Scout's honor. I was just wondering if you've seen these two girls." The redhead squinted to get a better look, but also shook her head, making her chandelier earrings jingle like bells.
"Nah, sorry." The redhead looked around. "Hey, honey. You lookin' for a good time?" The hooker purred, sidling up to a business man with greying hair. Jordan shook her head and moved on.
Five prostitues and a half hour later, Jordan was no closer to doscovering the Jane Doe's identities, but she refused to quit until she had the information she needed. There was one left on the street, a blonde who looked startlingly familiar to the unidentified women.
"Please tell me you know who these women are." Jordan said, wanting desperately to be out of the December air and curled up in her apartment with a cup of steaming hot coffee and a book.
The blonde did a double take when she saw the pictures. She looked at Jordan suspiciously. "What do you want with them?"
"So you know who they are?" Suddenly, Jordan wasn't cold anymore. "Could you tell me their names?"
The blonde stood there stubbornly until Jordan rolled her eyes and forked over a twenty. "That enough?" Jordan asked, annoyed. The blonde nodded and pocketed the money.
"Rain Stevens," She said nodding at the recent Jane Doe," And Terri Blanchez. Haven't seen 'em around in a while. What did they do?"
"Got themselves killed. Watch who you have sex with. Thanks." Jordan walked away, flipping open her cell. The blonde stared after her, mouth agape. Good. Maybe that'll shake her up enough that she'll get a real job. Jordan thought as she punched 1 on her speed dial.
"I've got the names, detective. Meet me at the morgue in fifteen minutes." Jordan clicked the phone shut before Woody could answer, and jumped into her car.
"You have names?" Woody asked, walking into Jordan's office. He pulled off his plaid scarf and dumped it unceremoniously on her desk, rubbing his bare hands together to return circulation to them.
"Yep. The recent Jane Doe's Rain Stevens, and the older case is Terri Blanchez. Now all we have to do is find out where they frequented. Where do hookers usually hang out?" Jordan asked.
Woody shrugged out of his heavy jacket, making Jordan's mouth go dry when she saw how good he looked in the simple black turtleneck and dark jeans. The outfit showcased his lean, muscular body and made his bright blue eyes pop out.
Damn him! We could be together right now, but no. He had to realize he liked me as a friend right when I realized I was in love with him. Jordan thought miserably, trying to look like he didn't effect her. She was sure her acting skills were less then Oscar worthy.
"It isn't where hookers in general hang that we have to check out. It's where these particular ones went that we need to look into." Woody said, looking impatiently at the door, as if he was missing something important.
"Why so impatient? Got a hot date or something?" Jordan quipped lightly, but she sincerely hoped that he didn't. It was a friday, and if he was going out on a date on their night, it meant that he had definately moved on. And Jordan didn't know if she could deal with knowing he was out there, kissing some other woman good night, when it was her he should be kissing.
"What if I did? Why would it matter to you, Jordan?" He snapped back, a hint of bitterness coloring his tone. Or was she imagining it? He was so hard to read these days. If he was bitter, that would mean that he still... But no. He'd made himself clear. She would too.
"It wouldn't, detective. You can date whoever you want, hell, date Lily for all I care! I've moved on. It's about time you did too. Now, if we're finished here, I have to be here early tomorrow morning." She crossed her arms and waited for his answer. A flash of hurt crossed his face before he put on a mask.
"That's good to know, Jordan. I hope you're happy, cause I sure am. Thanks for the information. I'll call you if it amounts to anything, but don't hold your breath. Good night." He snapped.
"I trust you know your way out?Don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out." She replied, blood boiling with anger as she shoved past him, heading for the door, back straight as a board with pride.
Anger was good. If she was angry, she wouldn't feel the hurt and grief that was eating her up inside like a disease. That's what love was. A disease. And in Jordan's case, there was only one cure. She would file the transfer papers after this case was wrapped up, maybe head to Philadelphia. It would be tough leaving her friends, but she needed to leave.
Next chapter: The press gets wind that there's a serial killer, just as two more bodies end up in the morgue.