If only these walls could talk...the world would know just how hard it is, to tell the truth in a story in which everyone's a liar." 

 ~ Gregg Olsen 

~**~~**~

Jack ran his fingers through his hair for the millionth time that day— if he kept it up, he was probably going to go bald before week's end.

Stop it. Stop it, Jack.

Back in her makeshift laboratory, Dr. Coldwater had examined the bullets in depth.

But, in true Coldwater-fashion, there had been a catch. She wanted to compare the bullets from the Praxton crime scene to the same one pulled out of the widow's husband.

The only problem was that Emblem's case had been reassigned to Cold Cases and taken to the FBI.

That's where Jack came in. She wanted him to use his Commander status to request the file.

So here Jack was, in the parking lot of a strip mall, waiting for an agent to show up and make him regret his decisions.

Jack released his seat-belt, just in time to see an SUV, donned with government plates, pull next to his sedan.

It seemed that his informant had finally arrived. As the car rolled to a halt, Jack strode forward to meet the agent.

The door swung open and a tall dark-haired man exited. He was clothed in a black suit and wore dark sunglasses, casting an official 'Men in Black' fashion statement.

A grizzled beard adorned his face in a close embrace while a gun and badge took residence at his hip, hidden partially by the sway of his jacket.

When he saw Jack, he cracked a smile.

"Jack!"

"Will!" Jack greeted, with a similar smile stretching across his face.

Both of the men met in the middle to pull the other into an embrace. Jack clapped Will on the back firmly and took a step back.

Jack shook his head, grinning. "Wow, man, is it good to see you! You can't even imagine the day I've had so far. When I heard Cold Cases was sending an agent, I didn't think that it would be you! "

"Well, I saw who was requesting, so I pulled some strings and here I am. Are you gonna tell me what's going on?"

Jack shook his head and pointed to a coffee cart. "I'll fill you in, I just need a cup first."

Half an hour and four cups of joe later, Will sat back in his seat and blew out a puff of air. "Wow, you're joking. Are you really working with that doctor? I mean, she's smokin' but even I wouldn't risk it. You know, I heard she punched a guy so hard, he peed blood for a month."

I know. I was the guy.

Jack laughed, revealing his dazzling whites and nodded. "She certainly is a character. She never listens and always does what she wants. But to tell the truth, she's not dangerous; more like an annoying cat that keeps on coming back."

"Be careful with whom you get into bed, Jack; for work and for play." Will shook his head in disbelief but winked at Jack.

"But on a more serious note, you've gotta be careful with this case, Jack. I heard that something fishy was going on. Everyone at HQ was real hush-hush about it. I don't know specifics but the chatter is that Emblem was into some real hard stuff. "

Will handed him a stack of files and told him that the physical evidence would be delivered later.

"I'm serious, Jack. Watch your back."

Wishing his fellow agent good luck one more time, Will got back into his vehicle and pulled away.

Jack tossed his empty cup into a nearby trashcan and headed back to his car.

This case just got more complicated.

~**~~**~

"Commander! You're back!" Thomas hustled over like he'd been given a swift kick to the caboose. "You won't believe what we found out. It's awesome."

Jack had arrived back at the warehouse with case files in hand. He opted for the stairs this time, not the death trap he'd used in the first run. The third floor now had the addition of two more people.

Seated at a table, a young woman, hardly out of her teens, sifted through a pile of papers. A pen was sticking out of her mouth and her fingers tapped to an unheard rhythm.

The star of the show (and his nightmares) was leaning over the shoulder of another man, placing one hand on the table and the other on the back of his chair.

He was muscular but lean at the same time. Jack could tell just by looking at him that the man was quick in a fight and fast on his feet.

At Thomas' outburst, everyone turned around. V.C. saw the folder under Jack's arm and rushed forward. "Commander, you're just in time for the preliminary findings. But first, let me introduce you."

She motioned to the muscular man who had risen at Jack's entrance and was eyeing him warily. "This is Flynn. He's a chief investigator and mainly deals with crime scene recreation." Flynn reached forward with a large hand to clasp Jack's in a firm grip but remained mum.

Guess he's not as much of a talker as his doctor counterpart.

"You've already met Pager and that—" She shot a finger gun over to the teenaged girl watching the interaction from her place at the table. "Is Arya. She's interning. . .sort of. We're still ironing out the kinks."

The girl didn't look at him but instead brushed away a lock of hair from her face. Either she was deep in concentration or she didn't particularly care for Jack.

He didn't take it to heart.

Once the introductions had faded into silence, Jack handed the folder over and told V.C. the physical evidence would be arriving later.

His eyes flicked to the mounted flat screen with interest.

"What do you have so far?"

V.C. pointed to Pager. "Page, go ahead." She settled on the corner of a table and thumbed through the folder Jack had given her.

Pager stepped forward and picked up a handheld remote. He clicked a button and an animation of a crime scene played out the shooting in detail.

"The striations of the bullets from the Praxton crime scene match those from a Glock 19. They were 9mm, 115 grain jacketed hollow point shot approximately 8.3 meters from the target at 21:00 on Thursday the 12th. But here's the kicker. . ."

The screen zoomed in on the animated house and window the bullets had destroyed. "Based on where Silvia Praxton was standing, even if she didn't fall, she wouldn't have been hit. The shooter was at least half a meter off: not accurate at all."

As Pager finished his report, V.C. lifted her nose from the file with a furrowed brow. "Then this is gonna blow your mind: Mateo Emblem was shot 25 to 27 meters away with a single bullet."

She held up one finger to note the significance. "9mm, 115 grain jacketed hollow point, matched to a 357 Magnum. The bullet ripped through his aorta and shattered on impact. He bled out within 20 seconds."

She shook her head and handed the file to Jack. "The possibility of two separate shooters using the same type of expensive bullets is about 6.8%. The odds of two murderers are not in our favor."

Using his expertise in weapons and his experience, Jack rolled the information around in his head.

He drew a palm across his face and rubbed his chin, contemplating the situation.

"The first murder was a kill shot. No hesitation. To take a shot like that in a crowded room full of witnesses, the guy must have been ballsy. But then with this one—" He pointed to the picture of Silvia. "It was sloppy. Done in the dark. The shooter couldn't even hit the woman from twenty feet away."

"So what—Are we looking for two shooters? Or one?"

~**~~**~

Pausing with his hand off the doorknob, Jack looked over his shoulder at V.C. "One more time: what are you going to do when we get in there?"

"I'm going to sit there quietly and just observe."

"No funny business?"

"Aye aye, Cap'in, absolutely no funny business on my watch. All forms of tomfoolery, poppycock, flap-doodle, and shenanigans will be left at the threshold. I'll be as silent as a nun."

And I'll dance the tango, too.

V.C. skirted around the stern man who was trying to freeze her with his gaze. Knocking off the icicles, she got her first face to face glance of Silvia Praxton as the door swung open.

The widow was sitting on a sunken couch, arms crossed, curling into herself. Her blonde hair was a curtain across her sullen face.

Scared.

Alone.

Willing to talk?

"Hello, Ms. Praxton, how are you doing?" Jack started off the pleasantries and gestured to the solitary table in the room. "Why don't we take a seat?"

"Did you find him? Did you find the person trying to kill me?!"

Him? Why would she say him?

Jack ignored her question, one hand behind V.C.'s chair. "Ms. Praxton. This is Dr. Coldwater. She is going to be sitting in during this. . . talk. I have a feeling that you weren't completely honest with me the last time we spoke."

"I-I don't know what you mean."

"We found a draft of divorce papers in your husband's office. He was planning on filing for divorce at the end of the month."

"What?" The shock on Silvia's face looked genuine, but not genuine enough to fool V.C. She had spent years observing people's mannerisms and vocal patterns. She knew a bald-faced lie when she heard one.

And apparently so did Jack because he pressed on.

"You signed a prenup with your husband two years ago. If he divorced you, you would be left with nothing. And then suddenly, he ends up dead, leaving you with everything. So I'll ask you again, what aren't you telling us?"

"Absolutely nothing!"

When people say absolutely nothing, they're absolutely lying.

Staring down Jack proved too much for the woman as her blue eyes rapidly welled with tears. Wet trails seeped down her face in rivulets and a false eyelash hung precariously off on eyelid, crumbled from constant rubbing.

Alright. Cool it with the tears, lady. No one's buying it.

Before Jack could get in another word edgewise, V.C. jumped right in.

Hopefully, he forgot what he told me.

"Ms. Praxton, Hello. Hi." Silvia's earring, partially hidden behind champagne strands caught her attention. The strange hue reminded her of something familiar so she wracked her mind for an answer.

"I love your earrings. Very unusual. What are they made of--"She leaned forward to get a better look. "rhodium?"

Ms. Praxton wrinkled her brow as much as she could, which wasn't much considering her constant Botox injections. "Erm. . . I don't know. . . they were a wedding gift. . ."

Huh.

Still wearing jewelry from her late husband?

She thought Silvia would have thrown everything out before she got hubby number four.

"Silvia, can I call you Silvia? I get it- you're just minding your own business and BAM, out of nowhere," V.C. reached over the table to pat the woman on the shoulder. "someone tries to kill you. Trust me, I've been there. It's a day ruiner."

At that point, V.C. guessed she had shocked the poor Commander with her nonchalant approach because he reached a hand over to place on her leg.

Not in a romantic, 'I love you, let's get frisky' sort of way, but in an 'if you keep this up, there's a 76% chance I'm going to rip this leg off you' way.

It was adorable.

V.C. didn't falter but swept Jack's tenacious grip off her thigh and continued to probe the weeping widow.

"But here's the thing, the same guy who popped your husband is after you. So any info you tell us is gonna save you in the end."

Silvia glanced down at the table, shrugging one shoulder halfheartedly, and scratched her nose. But despite her shuffling, she remained annoyingly silent.

V.C. could hear Jack grinding his teeth next to her. She wasn't sure if it was because of her antics or the woman's persistent refusal to talk.

He better have a good dental plan because if he keeps that up, he's gonna break a molar.

Again.

V.C. leaned back and observed the woman. She was twitching and shuffling in her seat.

Eyes darting everywhere.

Fingers rose to tug at the necklace around her neck. V.C. cocked her head to get a better look at the jewelry but it was quickly covered with layers of cloth.

The way she's acting. . . it could be nerves. After all, she is being interrogated. But then again, no one acts this suspicious when they're innocent. . .

Jack gave his incisors a break before he actually broke any. "Fine, we'll circle back to that. What do you know about the cases Mateo was working on before he died?"

At the change of subject, the sobbing river slowed down into a trickling stream. Her chin had stopped quivering but her bottom lip still pouted.

"I don't know. He never talked to me about work. That was off the table. He always got angry at me when I mentioned he was working later and later. Some nights he never came home. If anything was ruining our marriage, it was him."

As she went further and further into her monologue, Silvia's voice rose octave by octave. Her anger was palpable across the table. By the end of her outburst, she had risen to brace her elbows on the table. The widow pushed her seat and started towards the couch where she dissolved into tears.

If she cries anymore, we're gonna be flooded.

No one gets that upset from a simple question unless. . .

Jack sucked in a breath and pushed back his chair. He motioned for V.C. to leave with a toss of his head. Outside, he softly talked to the officer guarding the door while V.C. remained standing in the threshold.

She looked back, catching one last glimpse of the woman.

Now's my one chance—

"Ms. Praxton."

The widow turned from the window.

V.C. cocked her head to the side, eyeing the woman like a hawk.

"The affair. I know."

Blanching white, Silvia grabbed her collar with a clenched fist, opening her mouth to speak.

But before she could, the door banged shut.

~**~~**~

A/N 

Next chapter: Hot Air Balloon Pilot

Blurb:

Gaining purchase on the wall, her fingers dug into the brick crevices. After she got a secure grip, the doctor began to climb.

Don't look down. Whatever you do, don't look down.

A height like this wouldn't kill her. Maybe break a few bones, but it wouldn't kill her.

Just remember that, V.C.

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