**DISCLAIMER – I do not own the characters, they belong to TNT and associated bodies. **
A/N 1: One chapter this evening, I should update again on Thursday. An important note really – I had to remove 2 'Guest' reviews this week. I guess I'm in the same boat as other writers on this forum; we don't make any money from this, many of us write anonymously, many of us find writing to be a well-needed escape from our actual lives, and many author's have a camaraderie that is missing from our 'real' lives, whether that be down to work, moving to a different city, so on and so forth. We do this for fun. So when 'Guests' post not just negatively (which everyone has a right to do, and can sometimes make a story better), but in an aggressively belittling manner, it knocks your confidence a bit. We write to get away from the world, not to invite the worst of it in. In future, if you're interested in reviewing, can I kindly ask that you do it as a registered member, as if this continues, I may have to moderate posts from now on. It's a story guys, if you don't like it, don't read it; it's not hurting anyone, but your reviews can.
A/N 2 – Although this chapter refers to real positions and their real powers, please be clear that any and all characters are completely fictionalised. Also to be read as – please don't sue me.
FLIGHTLESS ANGEL.
Chapter 8 – Secret.
Despite the relatively early night and numerous hits of caffeine related beverages, Jane's head was positively thudding at 9am the next morning.
She walked through Boston Common, with Tremont street on her left, wringing her hands and grimacing at the sun, whose purpose today, Jane was convinced; was to make the brunette hate her entire existence. Shrugging off her blazer, and slightly losing her footing, she caught sight of Frost; chundering his breakfast out in a nearby bush. He looked in her direction and rolled his eyes.
"DO. NOT. Say a word." He turned and wretched again on the defenceless greenery. Putting one hand to his stomach and the other wiping his mouth with a tissue, he finally gained full height and turned on his heel to greet Jane with a manic smile.
"Mornings greetings, Detective Rizzoli. Don't you just LOVE the smell of death in the morning!" He acted out the sentence with jazz hands and a full pirouette.
Jane husked what can only be described as an attempt at a laugh, before taking a swig of her current coffee.
"What do we got then? Before your hangover crawls out of your ass and consumes you entirely?" She looked to her pale partner, rounding to where the bottom of the Common meets Charles Street.
Frost stumbled alongside her, making no effort to cover the state he was in.
He pointed to a crouched Maura, who appeared to be showing some of the markings on the body to a man Jane didn't recognise. He stood about 6"2, had sandy-blonde hair with a well-trimmed beard, and one of those fancy shirts with a rounded white collar, and neat blue and white squares, rolled casually at the sleeves and teamed with (even Jane had to admit) some pretty nice grey pants and a well-cut pair of shoes. He didn't get those at Wal-Mart. She stalked closer to the now giggling pair. The shirt alone probably cost more than Jane's monthly salary, she disliked him immediately.
"I don't think the victim's family would appreciate seeing you laughing over the dead body of their loved one, Dr Isles." Jane looked pointedly at Maura, before looking at the victim, completely ignoring their unknown companion.
Jane's mood and formality did not go unnoticed by the now standing Doctor.
"Detective Rizzoli, this is Doctor Matthew Carson," Maura paused allowing the two to shake hands. Matthew smiled widely in contrast to Jane's barely polite scowl. She knew this man from somewhere.
"Matthew is the Chief Medical Examiner for the Commonwealth of Kentucky; he's here to assist us on this case."
Jane's eyebrows shot up and she did a full one over of the man, he couldn't be more than 30.
"Assist huh, you sure you aren't on a field trip from College," Jane mused aloud, finding a distinctly unimpressed Maura looking at her. "I mean, you just seem a bit young . . . Matthew."
Matthew smiled in good nature, not taking Jane's vitriol personally.
"Well, Ma'am; if I was a Lady I believe I would take that as a compliment," he beamed with a perfect set of glistening white teeth. "I'm 37 years old, my College days are long gone I'm afraid!"
Maura, looking unhumoured; rose from where she was crouching and annotated her notes, speaking without looking at either of the people standing by her.
"Matthew is one of the country's youngest Chief Medical Examiners. He attended BCU one year after I enrolled, he majored in Pathology also; you know path I followed, however my learned colleague embarked on an associative role within the FBI after College."
"I helped to break a cold-case when I was at College, as part of my research. The Cranston Case, you probably never heard of it," Matthew smiled to Jane, but not pompously.
"Cranston, huh;" Jane visibly paled. "I haven't heard that name in almost 15 years," Her eyes fixed on a spot in the ground.
Matthew's smile faded. He pinched his nose, breathing deeply.
"Jane Rizzoli?" He placed his hands on his hips, and looked with sad eyes at the brunette, who was fighting tears. Maura looked on in wonderment, did Matthew know Jane?
"The Serial Killer's favourite," Jane smiled. "The beard threw me, you could almost pass for 23 again." She kicked the dirt around her feet. "I'm headed back to BPD," she turned walking away. "Let Frost know what you find, he can talk me through it later."
Maura's eyes followed Jane, every step back to her car.
What on earth was the Cranston Case?