Chapter 13

Jenna felt the shudders wrack her body as it emptied itself of the coffee she'd drank tonight. She couldn't get over the sight of his face on that card tangled in the material of the victim's bra.

She flushed the toilet, then sank down next to it, letting her head lean back against the tiled wall. Tears threatened, but she fought them back. She kept hearing his voice when he'd told her he thought he was falling for her.

He was falling for her... and then running out and killing girls that looked like her. Her head fell forward, hitting her knees that she had drawn up against her body. She was shaking and she hated it.

"Here," Justin said, holding out a wet paper towel to her.

She looked up at him, and he felt his heart break at the haunted look in her eyes. "Oh, baby. I'm sorry." He held out his arms and she went in to them. He could feel the shudders course through her petite frame as he smoothed his hands down over her back.

Jenna forced herself to move away from him after holding on to him for only a few moments. She took the paper towel he still held and used it to wipe off her face, then went over to the sink to splash some cold water on her burning cheeks.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," she laughed cynically. "I have to be okay, don't I? I don't have much of a choice."

"Well, you could come back here and let me hold you again for a while." He touched her still wet face with gentle fingers. "I may not like the man, Jenna, mostly because of jealousy, but I never would have wanted this."

"We have to bring him in," Jenna said. She closed her eyes, again seeing Ethan lying against her sheets, his chest bare, his hair tousled from her hands. His brown eyes had been half closed, his fingers stroking down her arm as he told her to hurry back to him. He wanted to hold her as he slept, he'd said.

She had slept with him. She couldn't get the thought out of her head. She had slept with a killer. No, she hadn't slept with him. They hadn't had much of a chance to sleep. She'd fucked a killer and had enjoyed every moment of it.

"Yeah, baby," Justin said, running his hand through her hair. "We have to bring him in. But you won't be there. I'll get Finn up and he and I will go do it. Do you have Miller's address?"

"He's not at his place, Justin." She dropped her head down and felt him move forward until she was leaning her forehead up against his chest.

"He's at the hospital then?" he questioned, running his hands up and down her arms.

"No." She took a deep breath and looked up at him. "He's at my apartment, Justin."

He stared back down at her, his hands dropping from her arms. "You're off the case, Jenna."

"No, God dammit, Justin..."

She shut up when he held his hand up in front of her face. "You slept with him, Jenna. You can't be on this case any longer, not if he's our prime suspect. Don't argue with me."

Jenna cringed at the tone in his voice. It was cold and hard. She'd never heard him talk like that, not to her. He backed away from her, staring at her as if she was someone he didn't know. And it hurt her. It hurt badly.

"There might be another explanation, Justin, did you think of that?" She knew she was reaching but she had to believe that she wouldn't have gone to bed with a murderer.

"Sure there is, Jenna. Somehow his hospital badge got into the same dumpster with our victim's clothing. It ended up getting tangled up in her bra, the inside of her bra at that. Of course, I can come up with any number of plausible explanations for that."

At that moment she hated him, hated him with every fiber of her being, and at the same time knew that he was right.

"I'm going to get Finn and we're going to go bring him in. I'm going to ask you to step back and away, Jenna. I don't want to go to the chief with this."

I'll step back, Justin but I'm going to be in the viewing room while you're doing the interview...

whether you like it or not." She reached into the pocket of the jacket she was still wearing and pulled out her keys, slipping her apartment key off the ring and handing it to him without being asked.

"Don't call him," he warned as he turned and left the women's bathroom.

"Asshole, she snarled as the door closed behind him. As if she would do something that would sabotage a case, especially a case where women were dying. She splashed more water on her face and then dried it off, going to wait at her desk while she went back over the files, searching them with a fine tooth comb, needing to come up with something that would prove Ethan hadn't done it.

Ethan woke to a pounding at the door. It was barely morning, and the light coming in through the window was weak yet. He got up, grabbing his pants and pulling them on quickly as the door was slammed open. He heard feet rushing toward the bedroom and stepped back, confused. Police burst through the door, grabbing his arm and forcing him face down on the floor.

"Ethan Miller?"

It was a familiar voice, and he looked up, seeing Justin standing there. "You know who I am," he said. "You want to explain what this is about? Where's Jenna?"

"You are being taken in for questioning, Dr. Miller. As to where Jenna is, well, that's none of your concern." Justin felt a dark thrill, seeing the man who seemed to have such a strong hold on Jenna's interest on the floor in cuffs. It was wrong, the way it felt. But he couldn't help but revel in the feeling. Jenna could have been his, should have been his, and not this doctor's.

"What am I being questioned about?"

"You'll find out more at the station. Until that time, I am going to Mirandize you." Justin ran through the standard Miranda rights, emphasizing his right to silence as Ethan almost seemed to snarl at him. He picked up the man's shirt, now wrinkled from falling on the floor, and draped it over Ethan's shoulders as he was lifted to his feet and led out of the apartment.

A police car sat in the street outside the building and Ethan was pushed into the back seat with a little more force than necessary.

The trip to the station was done in silence. He saw Justin's car pull into the underground parking garage behind them and then the man was there when the police car stopped and the door opened. Justin reached in, grabbing Ethan's arm and pulling him from the cruiser. Ethan was taken the back way into the building and then ensconced in one of the small, dingy interview rooms, with a uniformed officer as a guard. Justin unlocked his cuffs.

"Can I get you some coffee, doctor?" he asked sarcastically.

"You can tell me what this is all about," Ethan said bitterly.

"Not yet, sir," Justin said, stretching the respectfulness until it was disrespectful. He went to the door of the interview room, turning once to glance over his shoulder. "It's hard for me to believe you aren't the man I thought you were when we met in the hospital. I used to be such a good judge of character but this job can screw with you so much." He shook his head sadly before going through the door and locking it from the outside.

Jenna was sitting at her desk when he came back in the bullpen. The file was open, the pictures spread out, including the new ones that Bobby had just delivered himself. He watched her for a moment as she stared at the pictures, brushing her hair out of her eyes every once in a while.

With a sigh, and a desperate need for coffee, Justin turned and went to where a new pot was brewing, blessing the powers that be for hot fresh caffeine.

"Did you get him?"

"Yeah, he was still in your apartment, Jenna." He couldn't help the slight hurt that managed to infuse that sentence. He was hurt, even though it wasn't her fault. And he knew he had no right to be. She was his partner, not his wife or his lover. He looked around the bullpen, seeing nothing but empty chairs. They were alone.

With a sigh, he put his coffee on her desk and crouched down next to her, pulling her chair out slightly so he could look into her face. "Are you okay?" he asked, letting his hands run up and down her arms. He'd been mad, and he wouldn't hide it. But she looked so vulnerable sitting there, faint vestiges of her tears still apparent if you knew what to look for.

"I'll be better when we get this whole mess straightened out and I can get back on this case. He didn't do this, Justin, he couldn't have. It's so against what he believes in, so against his nature. I mean, think about it, when he hit Kevin Elliott, he'd seemed sort of shell shocked afterwards, as if the violence was abhorrent to him. How could he go out and slice and dice three girls like this when one punch had upset him so much?"

Justin's head dropped until his forehead was against her knee. He sighed heavily. "I hope if I ever get into any trouble, you're around to bail me out with as much loyalty as you're showing him." He raised his head, staring into her troubled green eyes. "I'll give him the benefit of the doubt, Jenna, but I just can't figure out any other way that his hospital badge got tangled up in Charlene Redman's bra."

"I've been thinking about that, Justin, and I have an idea. You said you think this killer is fixated on me. He's killing women that look like me, right?" She didn't wait for him to answer. "So, if he is fixated, then he must know that I'm dating Ethan. So he sneaks into the hospital and takes the badge and then leaves it with the clothing, knowing that we'll find it."

Justin stared down at her in disbelief. "Do you really think he'd go that far? I mean, the chances of being caught are pretty high."

"So are the chances of being caught while raping and killing someone, Justin, but he takes those chances. If he is truly fixated upon me, then that is one scenario. I can probably think of others if I have a chance."

He stood, putting his hand on her shoulder for a moment. "I need the file, Jenna. And the hospital badge. Harley wants to sit in on the interview with me. He's given you permission to watch but you can't interrupt. He wants your word on that, Jenna."

"He has it." She quickly stacked the photos and slid them into their manila envelopes. Justin took the stack and his coffee cup from the desk and turned, heading down the short hall towards Harley's office.

"Chief?" he called, sticking his head into the room.

Harley looked up from the huge piles of papers that were covering his desk. "Any problems?" he asked, standing up and pulling his jacket off the back of his chair. He slipped it on and then picked up his own cooling cup of coffee.

"No, he came pretty easily. He's been Mirandized and left to stew."

"Well, let's not let him stew so long that he starts yelling for an attorney. I'd like to get a confession out of him before the sharks can circle." Harley led the way through the hallway.

"Chief, Jenna came up with another theory that might hold some value."

"Well, tell me now before we get in there." He stopped, turning to face Justin. "But remember, if she's been dating this guy she's got an emotional stake in this." He crossed his arms over his chest.

Justin explained the idea, adding his own two cents. "It might be something worth a thought sir... if the killer is really fixated on Jenna, he's going to also fixate on anyone who she's involved with."

"Well, let's hope that isn't the case here. I've got the public on my back and an FBI profiler on his way. He'll be here tomorrow to do a complete profile on our killer and to help with anything he can."

"What?" Justin's mouth dropped open. "Hold it, Chief. You called the FBI in on this? You know what'll happen, we'll do all the work and they'll get the glory." Justin felt rage building and struggled to push it back down.

"So let's go in there and get a confession and I can call and have them turn the plane around." Harley started walking again, leaving Justin standing there staring at him.

They met up with Jenna, who was standing outside the viewing room. She was pale but composed, unwilling to show any emotion in front of Harley.

"Are you sure you want to put yourself through this, Jenna? It's not neces..."

"It is for me. I have to know if he's lying, Chief. I have to." A shuddering sigh came from deep inside of her and she looked from one man to the other. "I can't think that my judgment is so bad that I wouldn't know if something was wrong. He got to my place last night at just a little past seven p.m. If he had committed Charlene's murder, he'd have had to move pretty fast from the time he left the hospital to when he arrived at my apartment.

"Your apartment is where?" Harley asked her.

"The other side of the park, chief. I'm not saying it's not possible, I'm saying it's highly unlikely. We won't know for sure until the prelims come from the coroner, giving us time of death."

"Okay," Harley said, staring through the darkened glass and into the interrogation room where Ethan waited. "Let's get this started, and as soon as you get the prelims, you get them to us. But under no condition are you to walk into that room, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Jenna said, turning toward the viewing room and dreading what she was going to see. She walked through the door, her eyes immediately going to the huge two way mirror that took up most of the space on the one wall. Flipping on the switches that would start the video recording devices working, she hit the intercom switch on the wall, so she could hear what was being said.

Then she looked at Ethan.

They'd taken off the cuffs and he'd slid his shirt onto his shoulders, buttoning it halfway. His chest could be seen through the material, a chest she'd kissed and caressed with such pleasure and passion not four hours before. His head was down in his hands, and as she watched, he glanced up, looking not at the door but at the mirror.