"So you don't know what was going on, only that it looks like she died of shock and fear rather than the half a dozen holes in her?" Garrett said to Jordan, a skeptical note in his voice.
"I won't know for sure until I get the results from the blood work Faith's doing," she explained.
"Well, she's been here for a couple of days now. What do you think of her? Instinctively, I mean. You've always been one to follow your hunches," Garrett queried.
"She seems hardworking, tough, but it's like there's something about her you'll never know, or never understand would say it better," Jordan said thoughtfully as Faith walked into her office.
"Here's the test results you wanted, Dr. Cavanaugh," Faith said, handing it to the other woman.
Jordan handed the folder to Dr. Macy. "See what I mean? See the adrenal spike there? But how do you die of fright?"
"Wish I knew, but I'm off for home. I'll catch you two later," Faith said cheerfully, to cover the itch that was developing between her shoulders. She'd call Angel for advice and maybe work off her tension with a little slayage.
*******
She wasn't happy. Angel was still dealing with Wolfram & Hart's crap nearly a decade later but he told her he'd look into it. Until then, all she could do was wait. She hated waiting- even now at the mature age of 29. She and Buffy were still two of the oldest Slayers ever living. Thankfully, you aged slower as a Slayer, so she only looked about 25 or so, which was a bonus for picking up vamps, like she was getting ready to do now. It being a strange city, where she didn't know any police to trust just yet, her main method was to flirt with the vamp, bring him to her room, and dust him and any "friends" she could encourage them to bring along. Didn't work really well with the older vamps, but she'd dusted quite a few baby vamps that way. And, by the time she was done dusting them, she was usually jonesing for some dick. Some nights she found it; others, she had to settle for her nice, thick nine inch vibrator. But she much preferred the real deal.
She chuckled to herself about the inept newbie in front of her. But his eyes had lit up when she'd seductively asked if he'd follow her back to her hotel. It only took her twenty minutes, long enough to work up a good sweat, then she was off to a decent club to dance and bring someone home to bang. She smirked as she lost herself in the grinding bass and thought about change. I have a great job, friends who are there for me, but I still need these one night stands and my leather pants. Hell, Angel bought me a couple new pairs after I distracted those two Haksos demons long enough for him to cut off their tails. Speaking of tail, that's a nice one there.
The man in question was built much like Riley Finn had been back when she'd switched bodies with Buffy. Then he turned around- it was Riley.
"Well, well, Riley Finn. How has life been for you?" she asked with a laugh as she walked over to him.
He looked over and smiled. "I'm sorry. Have we met? My late wife was always introducing us around. I never could remember everyone's names."
Hmm. Guess I'll save the apologizing for later. Need to do it, but if he doesn't even remember me, do I still have to? she asked herself. Sending a silent apology to the Powers for her hormones wanting precedence over atonement, she stuck out her hand. "Yeah, something like that. I'm Amelia, but my friends call me Amy," she said, using her middle name.
"Pleased to meet you. Can I buy you a drink?"
"Sure thing," Faith agreed with a smile.
They finished their drinks and Faith suggested they blow that popsicle stand.
*******
Faith lay back in bed, grinning. Finn has definitely only gotten better with age, she thought, looking over at his sleeping form. She was tempted to just leave but knew that her nice shiny new conscious that Angel and her own guilt had drilled into her wouldn't let her. So she wrote a quick note, hoping that she wasn't going to make things worse. It was just weird that they'd run into each other, since he was apparently on his way home to Iowa and had just stopped in Boston from a layover from Germany. Faith looked up into the heavens as she walked out of the hotel. You guys up there tryin' to tell me somethin'? she thought as she drove home. Once home, she crashed on her bed headfirst and let sleep claim her, even if only for a couple hours. Her alarm woke her at 8 and she quickly grabbed a shower then a double espresso from the corner bistro before stumbling into work. She grunted a hello at Lily, the grief counselor, before heading to Trace to work on the Wise data.
She spent most of the day pouring over data, trying to find the link she knew was there, even if no one else at the coroner's office could see it. But she'd know soon enough. If there was one thing she learned both in life and in college, crooks always screwed up somewhere- even the supernatural ones.
*******
A phone rang on the West Coast. "Yes?"
"We might have a problem," said a female on the other end.
"And why should I care?" he asked steely.
"Because it's one of your pet projects gone bad. The Rogue Slayer that Angel got to," she retorted.
"Oh, you mean the former intern at the LA County Medical Examiner's Office? What of her?"
"She's here in Boston. There might be issues if she sniffs out our project here in Boston."
"Not to worry," he reassured her. "I'll take care of it." He turned around, his eyes taking in the LA skyline. How was he supposed to juggle this one? He'd barely gotten Faith out of the LA ME's office in time. They had found her a little too easily this time. He'd have to tread lightly here.
*******
"We've got another one," Jordan said, as she hung up the phone. "This one's at her apartment. She's only a senior in college- pre med."
"Ready whenever you are. You game, Nigel?" she asked, smirking for some reason he didn't know, but thought it would be fun to guess.
"Always luv." he said with a wink and a grin.
Jordan rolled her eyes. "I'll take my car. You two can take the van. I've got to call JD on the way in. Need to ask him about something."
"Can do, J. See ya there," Faith said with a wave as she grabbed her equipment and headed to the garage.
"J?" Nigel asked once they were on their way.
"Oops. Haven't done that in a while. It's something I did in my teens and early on in college...tried to grow out of it. Damn; thought I'd at least gotten that bad habit kicked."
"Oh and what other bad habits are you waiting to break?" he flirted.
"Boinking cute British guys, for one," she said, the grin spreading over her face as she watched him raise an eyebrow in question.
"Like us, eh?"
"Well, some more then others. We're finally here. Don't know how you guys stand the traffic up here."
"What? I've been to LA. I know how bad it is there," he said, as they started pulling out their kits in front of the apartment building.
"Yeah, but at least it's warmer, so it's easier to deal with. I mean, it's June here, and I still feel like I'm freezing my ass off."
Nigel couldn't help but take a peek, making her chuckle. "No, that very nice ass of yours is still there," he said, with a grin as they headed up the stairs.
The first thing she saw when they got there was the splatter pattern on the far wall of the bedroom. She looked over at Nigel, grim faced. "Cleanup crew's gonna have fun with this one. But why are they connecting this one with Katrina Wise?"
"Because she and Clarice Mays were good friends in college who kept in touch. Katrina was one of the reasons Clarice transferred up here last year. That and with Katrina only a year ahead of her in school, they had a lot of common interests," Woody explained, glancing over at the corpse on the bed. "Looks like she didn't take her friend's death well. We were actually supposed to talk to her today, see what she knew about her friend's internship with Wolfram & Hart," he said, looking at Faith a little strangely.
"Well thank you, Detective," Jordan said briskly, pulling on a pair of latex gloves and motioning her team to get to work.
*******
Faith sat in on this autopsy. She'd seen quite a few out in LA, but she had a hunch this hadn't been a suicide, but more likely the law firm cleaning up loose ends for a web she couldn't see all the sides of yet. Garrett and Jordan verbally documented each cut and scrape, even down to the stippling around the gunshot wound. They swabbed her hands for gunshot residue, and that's when Faith noticed something. "Jordan, look at the trace under her nails," she said, bringing it to their attention.
"Damn! Good job, but all I can say is it's good we bagged the hands," Jordan muttered, kicking herself mentally for such an elementary mistake.
"Okay, now we've got a problem," Doctor Macy said gravely, after looking at a slide of the trace from under Clarice's nails. He turned to the two women, grim. "Why would skin cells and blood be under the nails of a supposed suicide victim- one we even have a supposed suicide note for?"
***
A/N: Stippling refers to "a spotted condition or appearance" usually, in this case, referring to the gunpowder left on the skin from a close contact gunshot, i.e. gunshot residue from a gun being held to the side of the head, like it would with a supposed suicide vicitim.
