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Garret took the call and recognized the address immediately. It was the alley next to Jordan’s building. He tried to call her on his way there but got no answer and her cell went straight to mailbox. He told himself it was reaching to worry, so he took a few deep breaths to calm himself and stepped out of the SUV. There were a cluster of cops around a body and as he drew closer, he saw long brown hair.
He forced himself stay calm and focused as he spoke to the detective in charge, some new cop from Vice Sex Crimes named Swann. He didn't even glance toward the body as she told him when and how it had been found.
For a moment as he walked over to the body, he flashed back to the aftermath of the Malden shooting and Jordan coming out of this same alley and collapsing in his arms. His chest tightened and he couldn’t breathe , the body was face down on the pavement, she was the same height, the hair color was right, his hands trembled as he shot the photos and then sat down the camera so that he could turn her over.
‘If it’s her, I’ll do the autopsy, find her killer and then I’m buying the biggest bottle of scotch I can find and see just how much it takes to drink yourself to death. He thought calmly. He reached and shifted the body, moving her gently, refusing to look at the face until he was done. He laid her gently on her back and then picked up the camera, holding the viewfinder between himself and the body, afraid to look directly at her. He looked through the lens and almost dropped the camera….It wasn’t Jo. The woman’s face was older by a few years or at least a few miles, her sightless eyes a chocolate brown, instead of a clear whiskey. It wasn’t her, thank God, it wasn’t her.
He finished up the pictures of the body and the scene, loaded the woman up and drove back to the morgue, cold chills climbing his spine the entire time.
He forced himself stay calm and focused as he spoke to the detective in charge, some new cop from Vice Sex Crimes named Swann. He didn't even glance toward the body as she told him when and how it had been found.
For a moment as he walked over to the body, he flashed back to the aftermath of the Malden shooting and Jordan coming out of this same alley and collapsing in his arms. His chest tightened and he couldn’t breathe , the body was face down on the pavement, she was the same height, the hair color was right, his hands trembled as he shot the photos and then sat down the camera so that he could turn her over.
‘If it’s her, I’ll do the autopsy, find her killer and then I’m buying the biggest bottle of scotch I can find and see just how much it takes to drink yourself to death. He thought calmly. He reached and shifted the body, moving her gently, refusing to look at the face until he was done. He laid her gently on her back and then picked up the camera, holding the viewfinder between himself and the body, afraid to look directly at her. He looked through the lens and almost dropped the camera….It wasn’t Jo. The woman’s face was older by a few years or at least a few miles, her sightless eyes a chocolate brown, instead of a clear whiskey. It wasn’t her, thank God, it wasn’t her.
He finished up the pictures of the body and the scene, loaded the woman up and drove back to the morgue, cold chills climbing his spine the entire time.