DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Willing, ready and able to stage a coup.

NOTES: I've only been working on this for six months now. The upcoming premiere motivated me to get it done! Oh and the police work and forensics is incredibly unrealistic, I know. Call it creative license which, were I being paid for this, I wouldn't do, but given I'm not…well, do the math.

DEDICATION: Those of you who so kindly feedback my stories. I appreciate it tons and tons. J/W fans will like the way this one turns out – after a lot of twists. Scout's honor!

I Know You're Out There Somewhere: The Times I've Been Mistaken

Nigel was singing under his breath when he came in the next morning. He even added the occasional burlesque bump and grind to punctuate the notes. He was stopped mid-bump (or possibly mid-grind) when Dr. M opened his office door, glared at the Brit and growled. "In here. Now."

Nigel's expression clouded and his words trailed off in a badly out-of-key, rhythmless confusion. His confusion, but not his expression, cleared when he entered the chief's office. He gave a weak smile. "Detective Simmons. What brings you here so early?" The lackluster chuckle he added didn't ease the situation any.

Garret was the one who spoke. "She's here because police in D.C. contacted her."

The Brit raised his eyebrow. If he could just bluff his way through this…. "Oh?"

"Someone was asking about a case they have on their books."

"Happens all the time, I'd think." Nigel shrugged.

"Probably," Lu agreed, standing up. "But not when the victim in their case was murdered in Boston. And not when the person asking about their case matched the description of our main suspect."

"Your main suspect," Nige spat back, his eagerness to defend Jordan tripping him up. His mouth snapped shut.

"It was her then?" This was Garret again. "Come on, Nigel. There's no use lying."

"I don't know," he replied. "I wasn't there, was I?"

Lu gave an exasperated sigh. "So you don't know either who requested a copy of D.C.'s police report or where it got sent to? 'Cause I'm betting somehow it ended up here or wherever Jordan is."

The criminologist had, once upon a time, found the blonde interesting. That had faded about the time he'd found out about Woody and her. It had died all together when it became clear she wasn't going to investigate anyone other than Jordan for Pollack's murder. He glared at her. "Prove it."

Her brows rose. "I'll get a search warrant." She waited a beat. "For your place. For the morgue. For your computers. I'll find it, Nigel."

"Since when did having a police report become a crime?"

"It's a crime if you're aiding and abetting a fugitive."

They locked eyes for a moment. Angrily, Nigel ripped open the side pouch of the laptop case he carried and thrust a sheaf of papers toward her. "Here. You want the report? There it is. If you bother to read it, you might actually realize there are other – better – suspects."

Lu took it. She glanced down at the report and kept her eyes lowered as she flipped through the pages. "Where is she?"

"I don't know."

"I don't believe you."

Nigel shrugged.

The cop switched tactics. Her voice softened and she reached a slender hand toward the adversarial man; he shied away. She persevered. "Nigel, look, I know she means a lot to you. Convince her to come back. We'll – We'll figure this out. If there's anything in this report that gives me a new lead then – then yeah, of course, I'll follow it. You know, I'm wasting a lot of time hunting for Jordan. Time I could be using to track the other suspects you're so sure are out there."

He spoke through gritted teeth. "Right." He snorted. "Tell me another one, Detective Simmons. Try selling me that oceanfront property in Arizona while you're at it." He gave her a steely look. "I can't convince her to come back when I don't know where she is and you can't prove anything, so don't bother to threaten me with warrants again."

Garret blinked automatically as the door slammed shut behind Nigel. He turned to the detective.

She looked up. "Do you believe him?"

"He doesn't know where she is."

"But he knows how to reach her."

Garret lifted a shoulder and let it drop. "I don't know." Dr. Macy glanced over his shoulder at the still reverberating door. "He's right though. You don't have proof of anything."

"Yet."

"You know, Detective, Nigel's got one thing right. There are other suspects. If you spent half as much time trying to follow those leads as you're spending trying to find Jordan, we all might know more by now."

"Why do all of you always protect her?" The blonde nearly exploded.

Macy gazed at her for a minute. "Because she's usually right." He paused. "And because no matter how she may seem to you, Jordan Cavanaugh is one of the most loyal, selfless people I know. She would have cut off her right arm rather than let you or Woody know how much the two of you hurt her."

"Sure! Because-"

"Because she wants what's best for him and if being involved with you seemed to make him happy, then she wasn't going to say anything to jeopardize that. So, yeah. Pride? Of course. A little. Who wouldn't want to protect themselves in that situation?" He shook his head. "But most of all? Caring and concern for someone who she cares about. More than you'll ever understand."

Her eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and a hint of shame, Simmons stalked from the chief M.E.'s office, tossing her blond hair back from her face as she did so, aware that she was just as guilty of protecting her pride as the woman she'd just accused of the same peccadillo. She did not look back as she strode to the elevator.

XXXXX

Nigel glanced over his shoulder every two feet, or so it seemed. He'd turned down lunch with Bug and Lily, working on a case Seeley had sent over until almost three o'clock. Only when his growling stomach made itself known, did he feign resignation and give in to Bug's insistence that he go grab a bite. "I'll cover for you. Go, go!"

He walked eight blocks west and then three blocks north, heading for a small coffee shop-internet café that he'd heard about. He allowed himself a small smile when he entered. The place was crowded enough that he was unlikely to be remembered, but not all of the computer terminals were in use. He ordered a sandwich and an espresso, waited for it and then made his way to one of the machines. He felt especially lucky when he discovered that the terminals actually had coin slots.

He fed the computer a couple of quarters and logged on. The e-mail he sent was terse, but she'd appreciate its contents nonetheless. Well, he amended mentally, not appreciate it so much, but value it. Logging off, he wolfed down the sandwich and nearly scalded his tongue downing the coffee. He planned on taking a more circuitous route back to the morgue.

XXXXX

During her break at the bar, Jordan logged on to this week's e-mail account. She groaned when she read the message. It was simple, the signal pre-arranged, the intent unambiguous.

Baby Blue.

Get out of wherever you are. No contact for two weeks. Use the z-account we set up until you know otherwise.

It was almost three a.m. by the time she had closed the bar, counted the tills, cleaned and locked up. She wanted nothing so much as to crawl into bed and fall into a dreamless sleep – well, she wanted that last part every night and so far, no such luck – but she had no way of knowing how close the authorities might be to her, only that Nigel was worried it could happen.

She crept into the house, always cautious not to wake Vicky or any of the other boarders, but tonight more so. She scrawled a note for Vicky, inventing a fictitious crisis for the fictitious uncle in Bar Harbor and apologizing for leaving so abruptly. She moved silently up the stairs and down the hallway to her room, tossing her few belongings into the duffel bag she'd carried with her this far. With a look around the small, but comfortable room, Jordan shook her head to drive away the tears. She promised herself that someday she'd come back.

When it was all over.

If.

XXXXX

The morning after Nigel sent his e-mail warning, he came in to find Dr. Macy waiting for him. Macy closed the door and fixed the criminologist with a hard look. He let Nigel begin to squirm before saying anything. When he did speak, his voice was brusque. "I think it's time you tell me everything you know. And, Nigel? I mean everything."

For the briefest of moments, the Brit thought about feigning ignorance, denying he'd had anything to do with Jordan since the night she disappeared, but the look in his boss' eyes made him abandon that thought as quickly as it had come. He sighed. "I don't know where she is."

"Fine. I believe that. But I know you're helping her. I want to know what you've found out."

"Dr. M-"

"Nigel, I've managed to keep Detective Simmons at bay so far, but I'm not going to be able to do that indefinitely. The faster we clear Jordan, the better for all of us. So, maybe if you tell me what you know, I can help make that happen."

Nigel looked at the floor for a moment. When he looked back up at Dr. Macy, his eyes shone with something that was almost happiness and his mouth quirked into a relieved smile. He rubbed his hands together. "All right, then."

Garret knew Nigel still wouldn't admit to anything as to how he contacted Jordan, but that was all right. Delving into the evidence he could maybe – maybe – justify to Simmons and the D.A., if it ever came to that; having contact with his fugitive M.E. was another matter.

Macy listened quietly to all Nigel had to say, turning it over in his own mind, waiting for something – anything – to jump out at him. He nodded several times, not making any comments until the Brit was done. All in all, it wasn't much. Certainly not as much as he would have expected. Then again, Detective Simmons had been certain she'd had her killer and, as such, Nigel had not had much leeway to do any extra curricular investigating.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I think we need to go back to the beginning," was the Chief M.E.'s terse reply.

"Right," Nigel agreed. "Uh… which beginning?"

Garret rolled his eyes.

"I mean, the reason Pollack came back? The fight on the security tape? When Jordan woke up?"

"Yes." Garret cracked a smile. "There were files on Pollack's flash drive, right?"

Nigel nodded.

"You know they're all related to that judge." Another nod from Nigel. "Good. I'll get Lily to see what other connections she can make."

"If I had time, I might be able to decrypt the files I haven't already."

Garret nodded thoughtfully. "From now on, you have time. Let's have Bug rerun the tox screens and all of that. And you can work our magic on the video." Garret smiled again. "I hope you made a digital copy of it before Detective Simmons retrieved it."

Nigel pulled a frowning face. "I'm hurt, Dr. M." He shook his head. "That you think I wouldn't have foreseen that little inevitability and taken steps to counter it."

"Sorry," Garret replied. "I didn't want to presume."

"Oh, no. Presume away. When it comes to clearing our girl, there is very little I wouldn't do."

"I'm getting that."

"Um… what are you going to do?"

Macy arched an eyebrow. "Besides run interference? I'm going to look at something we should have looked at earlier."

XXXXX

Late that same day, Macy called Nigel into one of the labs. "All right, Nige. We tested Jordan for GSR, right?"

The criminologist nodded.

"And we ran the blood on her dress."

"It was all Pollack's."

"Right."

"So?" Nigel's voice went up in doubt.

"So… did we check the splatter patterns?"

"There weren't any."

Garret gave Nigel a single head nod. "Why not?"

The Brit's brows knit down as he thought it over.

"You estimated how close Pollack was to the shot that killed him, right?"

"Yeah." Nigel's mouth puckered into a frown as his forehead wrinkled more deeply. He spoke slowly. "Yeah. I did. Based on the soot in the wound and the stippling… whoever held the gun had to be close enough to get splatter!"

"Right. So why didn't we observe any on Jordan? I pulled the photos. There isn't any."

Nigel shrugged. "She was covered in his blood."

"Her clothes were covered in his blood. Her hands were bloody. What about her forearms? What about her face? They weren't."

"What about the GSR though?"

"Ah… that is a problem. If there was only one shot."

Nigel's eyes went wide. "You think whoever killed him shot him once, put the gun in Jordan's hands and pulled the trigger a second time!"

"Which means somewhere in that hotel room there's either a second bullet or at least evidence that there was one."

"Brilliant, Dr. M! Of course," Nigel's face fell. "I doubt the hotel is going to grant us access without some intervention from the boys in blue. And I hardly think Detective Simmons is going to be too willing to help out."

A light chuckle from Garret. "Well, you did say the boys in blue, Nigel."

The Brit smiled. "Oh, Woodrow!"

XXXXX

"Explain why we're here again," Woody said, leaning toward Dr. Macy as Nigel hunted through the hotel room for evidence missed in the initial search.

"Jordan had GSR on her hands," Garret replied.

Hoyt nodded. "Meaning she fired the gun that killed him."

"Meaning she fired the gun. It doesn't necessarily mean she fired the shot that killed him. Woody, think about it. Whoever shot Pollack was pretty close to him. There had to be splatter."

"What if his blood just covered it up?"

"On her face?" Nigel looked up. "We're willing to bet there'd have been some on her face, mate. And anyway, I want to try this new technique. On the dress."

"Woody," Macy's face was grave. "We're pretty sure we can prove there were two shots."

"And I want to think that's going to help. But you know what Lu – what Detective Simmons and the D.A. are going to say."

"That she missed the first time? That she was so angry she fired twice and the second shot was the one that missed? Yeah. We know."

"But," Nigel's voice rose in happy tones. "This little darling here ought to help us with those theories." He smiled at the detective and the M.E. as he held up a bullet.

Macy smiled.

Woody inclined his head to acknowledge the first new shred of evidence, no matter how tiny, in far too long. "I hope it really can help."

"Well, let's see what else this place can tell us." Nigel was positively chipper for the first time since Jordan's disappearing act. He hit the black light and began clucking his tongue. "Shame, shame, shame. Our killer was really quite sloppy." Nigel followed a trail of droplets to what could only be called a puddle. He and Macy exchanged glances. The puddle of blood gave rise to another trail, this time of blood smears. The black light traveled up the box springs of the mattress and, sure enough, the smears continued.

"Nige."

The Brit looked up.

Garret pointed.

Nigel turned around and shone the light toward the suite's door. Another trail of blood – some splashes, some drops – led away from the puddle toward that door. The last splash disappeared under the bottom of the door.

All three men looked at one another. And smiled.

"If Pollack was shot in the hall…." Woody didn't dare say any more.

"Then we could be in a whole new ball park," Garret finished.

Nigel was peering more closely at the blood evidence.

"Can you recreate what happened, Nigel? Based on the pattern of the stains?" Woody's voice was hopeful.

"I think so, mate. I'll certainly do my damndest."

XXXXX

Nigel glared at his computer screen. As was so often the case after a monumental discovery, everything seemed to grind to a halt, the ensuing tests taking an eternity to run, results needing to be checked and re-checked and, when theories didn't pan out, new ones had to be developed. All the while he worried about Jordan and counted the hours until he could even begin to hope she'd e-mail.

The Brit was muttering to himself, hoping talking out some possible scenarios might give him some inspiration about what to try next when Bug appeared in their office. "I've got something."

"On the tox?"

Bug nodded.

"That's great. Right?"

He shrugged, his face glum. "I can't identify it. It's not any of the usual things you'd expect to find. Not even any of the rarer combinations."

"Any idea of its components?"

"As near as I can tell, it's similar to Rohypnol. Similar. But with a lot more power."

Nigel stared at him for a minute. "Rohypnol?"

Bug ignored the rhetorical nature of the question and listed the components; Nigel groaned softly.

"What? Nigel?"

"I have an idea. I have to – I need to get in contact with an old mate." Nigel picked up his keys and dashed out of the office.

"What old mate?" Bug called after him.

Nigel stuck his back in the doorway. "Can't say. If I did, I'd have to shoot you. But… can you make me a copy of your results? I'll get it after I make a few calls."

"Sure."

"Oh… and can you do me a favor? It's about Jordan's dress…."

XXXXX

It took Nigel twenty-seven hours, three false trails and an unspecified number of cups of coffee, but he found himself in a dingy little sandwich shop in Bethesda, Maryland, sitting across from a man he'd last seen disappearing into the black night of an African jungle. Nigel studied the man as he read the report Bug had copied.

The man looked up. "Where'd you get this?"

"It's a tox screen."

"I can see that. Where'd you get it?"

Nigel took a deep breath. "A woman I – I work with. She was – She woke up in bed with a dead man and no memory of how she got there."

"I take it your local bobbies figured they had the case pretty well stitched up."

Nigel nodded. "She'd been – there'd been a relationship with the man."

"Lover's quarrel? All that?"

"She even thought at first she must have done it."

"But she's not the type, Nigel?" For the first time the man cracked the hint of a smile.

He shook his head. "There were a few… irregularities. Enough to get her – to get me – us – looking."

"Do you know what you've found?"

"Thor's Hammer?"

The man nodded. "How do you think she got it?"

"In a drink. Intended for the man who died."

"That would make sense. Slip a man a large enough dose of our friend, Thor, and, after he tells you everything on his mind, he'll go to sleep and never wake up. And there's hardly a pathologist in the world who'll say it was something other than heart failure."

Nigel nodded.

"Your friend is lucky. Whoever put the chemical in her drink didn't know the dosage. Or that it dilutes in alcohol."

"And when it dilutes…?"

"When it dilutes, it causes irrational behavior, disorientation and, eventually, the person passes out. Usually when he wakes up, he has no memory of events from the time the chemical hit his blood stream."

Nige didn't like the sound of irrational behavior or disorientation. Both terms were too ripe for the D.A.'s own arguments, but the memory loss certainly fit with Jordan's case. "What about physical… reactions? Abilities?"

The man snorted. "Even diluted, our friend, Thor, packs a mighty wallop, Nigel. Within about fifteen minutes your friend would have been unsteady on her feet. After that, the progress of the chemical would have accelerated. Twenty minutes after ingestion, she'd have hardly been able to walk."

"Shoot a gun?"

"Bollocks! No! If she could even hold onto a gun, her arms would have no strength. She could probably fire at her own shoes, but that would be about it."

A slow, victorious smile spread across Nigel's features. "Thank you, mate. It was hell tracking you down, but worth it."

"Nigel." The word was bleak, solid. "You can't use any of this. The only reason I answered your questions was you were there when we began testing Thor."

"Don't worry," Nigel assured him. "I don't think I'm going to need to use any of this. Not in the way you're thinking. By the by… who would have access to this stuff?"

"That I can't answer."

"Right." The Brit nodded. "Thanks again, mate. You're a lifesaver. Quite literally." Nigel didn't really need an answer. The drug was strictly black ops. Whoever had gotten a hold of it would have needed one hell of a security clearance and that was going to narrow the field considerably. As he drove back to Boston, Nigel felt the frame around Jordan begin to crack. He hoped that before long it would be in pieces – sharp, jagged, but ultimately useless pieces.

END Part Four