The morgue staff's reaction to Garret's somber news was about what he'd expected. Lily burst into tears, Bug launched into an angry diatribe, and Nigel flat-out refused to believe him. He sent Lily home, rebutted Bug's arguments, and followed Nigel out of the conference room and into his office.
"Nigel –"
"No, Dr. M.," Nigel said firmly, not looking at his boss as he flopped into his desk chair and opened up his laptop. "This can't be right."
"I've seen the MRIs –"
"Then they were wrong!" Nigel ran his hands through his hair, still not looking at Garret. "They're wrong, and I'll prove it."
Garret comtemplated him for a minute, trying to decide if it was worth it to argue with Nigel right now. If the tall Brit stuck to his usual pattern, he would be immune to any and all arguments until he decided he was ready to hear them, and Garret would be wasting his breath.
The dull ache in his chest decided him. He was already hurting enough from losing Jordan. He'd let Nigel face up to the truth when he was ready.
-------------------------------------
Three hours later, Nigel was staring at his computer screen, eyes wide in shock. When Bug walked into the office, Nigel grabbed his arm, ignoring his exclamation of protest, and pointed to the computer screen.
"You see this?"
"Yeah, I see it, but what does it mean…" Bug's voice trailed off, and he looked over at his officemate, stunned. "My God…I can't believe it."
"That makes two of us."
"You've got to tell Dr. Macy."
They exchanged another look, and then Nigel jumped out of his chair, disconnecting the laptop's cords and sprinting alongside his coworker to Dr. Macy's office.
Macy was sitting at his desk with a glass of scotch when Nigel and Bug arrived, both out of breath and grinning. He set down the glass, giving them an inquisitive look, and Nigel unceremoniously deposited the laptop in front of his boss.
"Dr. Macy, look at this."
The urgency in Nigel's voice pulled Garret out of his brown study. He looked at the screen of the criminalist's laptop, frowning at the image on it.
"It's Jordan's MRI."
"A Jordan, yes," Nigel agreed, excitement rising. "But not our Jordan."
"Nigel, what the hell are you talking about?"
Nigel pulled up another screen, showing Jordan's MRI next to a normal scan.
"Look at the names on these," he told his boss, pointing at the bottom of the screen. "This one is Jordan Cavanaugh, and this one is also Jordan Cavanaugh."
"What?"
"Two different patients," he explained. "Two different Jordan Cavanaughs. They had appoinments at the Radiology Center on the same day. One of them is our Jordan, but the other –" he pulled up yet another screen, showing two separate patient ID files, "- is a patient at the BUMC oncology center and has been for two years. He's also male, and his date of birth is exactly fifteen years off from our Jordan's. The MRI that shows advanced glioblastoma? That's his, not hers."
"Wait." Garret looked up at the other man, hardly daring to hope. "So you're telling me that there was some sort of mix-up?"
"Exactly. They must not have checked the year on the birthdates, and they gave the wrong MRIs to the wrong Jordans. Our Jordan is perfectly healthy."
Garret sat back in his chair, stunned.
"Nigel, this – this is great news. This means Jordan's all right…why are you shaking your head?"
"Remember the prescription she wrote herself? Dr. Macy, we know she's not sick, but she doesn't. We have no way to reach her, and you and I both know she's planning to kill herself with that sedative. We have to find her before that happens."
"Damn," Garret breathed, reaching for the phone. "Nigel, get back on that computer and find her, whatever it takes. Maybe we'll get lucky and she'll use a credit card."
"Right. What are you going to do?"
Garret looked at the receiver in his hand, feeling the dread rising in his chest. "Somebody's got to tell Hoyt."