Thanks to: TraceyH, jtbwriter, kacie20 & Helena for the reviews. You guys keep my muse happy! I appreciate your reviews!

Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan or any of the characters from the show.

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I woke up before my alarm went off the next day. As amazing as that was, I also managed to pick up a coffee before work and still get to the office almost half an hour before my shift, which was nothing short of a miracle.

I walked off the elevator, holding my double cappuccino and the first person I saw was Garrett, who was waiting for the elevator.

"Leaving so soon, Garrett?" I asked with a smirk.

"Jordan. It's only 8:30. What are you doing here?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Got stuff to do, wanted to get started early. I want to talk to Woody, see if there's any new information."

Garrett gave me a calculating look. "Okay, Jordan. Nigel's off today, though, so you might have to take a case if we need you."

I nodded. "Sure thing Garrett," I said.

"I have to go for a minute, but I'll be back," Garrett said as he hit the down button. He had that angry uptight look about him, which surely meant trouble. Normally I would have thought it was me, but I had just gotten there.

"What's up?" I asked, curious.

He shook his head. "Just my daughter," he said.

"Uh oh. What'd she do?" I asked.

"She was trying to sluff school. She got caught leaving the school grounds in some boy's car. I have to go meet with the principal because apparently this has happened before, but my ex-wife never thought she needed to tell me. And since she's on vacation with her new boyfriend I'm the one that gets to deal with it."

I stared at Garrett, who looked like he was going to explode. I felt a sudden rush of sympathy to both he and his daughter. I didn't think things would be pretty when he got her alone.

"I'm sorry Garrett," I said, thinking that sounded incredibly lame.

The elevator opened with a ding and Garrett sighed. "Thanks, Jordan. I'll talk to you later."

"No problem," I said awkwardly.

Garrett stepped into the elevator and I walked down the hall to my office. I thought about my own dad and wondered if I used to stress him out as much as Garrett's daughter stressed Garrett out.

Used to, I thought with a little smirk. I still did.

Nothing new had come up, so after checking in with Bug I decided to head over to the precinct.

When I got off the elevator I almost ran smack into Woody, who was waiting to get on the elevator.

"Woody!" I said.

"Jordan!" he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I just came to see if anything new had come up on the Carlson case."

Woody shook his head. "No, nothing new. I have to go," he said abruptly.

"What is it?" I asked, finally noticing the look on his face. His jaw was clenched and he looked worried.

"There's been another murder. Seems to be similar to the Carlson case," Woody said, hitting the elevator button. It opened immediately and he stepped on. I followed him.

"I'll come with you," I said.

"Jordan," Woody said, and I just knew he was going to protest.

Just then my cell phone rang. I flipped it open. The call was coming from the office.

"Cavanaugh."

"Jordan, there's been another murder, seems like it might be like the Carlson case," Bug said.

"Yeah, I know."

"How do you know?" Bug asked, sounding puzzled.

"I'm with Woody. He's on the call and I'm going with him," I said.

"Oh, well, that's what I was calling for. To tell you to go. So never mind."

"Gotcha. Thanks Bug."

I hit the off button and stuck the phone in my pocket. "That was Bug telling me to go on this call."

Woody rolled his eyes. "Fine. Follow me."

"Okay," I said we reached our cars. Woody hopped into his and turned on his lights and siren. I followed close behind him.

The murder site was a small house on the outskirts of town in a nice middle class neighborhood. There were several police cars parked out front and, of course, the inevitable news vans.

We pulled in front of the house and got out of our cars. Several policemen stood holding back the press. I picked up my ME bag and followed Woody into the house.

We were greeted by a sight that was much like the one the day before in Lindsay Carlson's apartment.

Blood was splattered liberally throughout the living room. The body of a young woman with long blonde hair lay facedown on the carpet, blood pooled on the beige carpet underneath her.

The CSI's were busy at work, taking pictures and scouring the place for fingerprints.

"Do we have an id yet?" Woody asked one of the cops.

"Yeah. A, uh, Andrea Pearson, age thirty-three," the guy said looking at a clipboard. "Husband died about a year ago in a car crash, lives alone, no kids."

I had just crouched down next to the body when I heard the name. "What did you say the name was?" I asked, looking up, a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Andrea Pearson," the guy repeated, giving me a look like I was an idiot.

I slipped on a pair of latex gloves and gently turned the body over, my heart pounding.

"Oh, my God," I gasped as I saw her face.

"What?" Woody said immediately, crouching down next to me. "What is it?"

"I know her," I said faintly.

For the second time in as many days I was staring down at the dead body of one of my old high school friends.

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