Jake stood outside the precinct, wrapping his arms around his body against the cold January air. The Jane Doe case bothered Jake in a way that he couldn’t quite identify. She was gunned down in a very professional manner, but her clothes, her hair, her lack of make-up, everything about her screamed ‘ordinary mom’. It didn’t add up, but that wasn’t what really bothered him. He sighed. It was just too close to home. He had practically taken the lead on the case, pouring over missing person reports (even after Sara had gone over them) and going down to the ME’s office to get the victim’s prints himself so that they wouldn’t have to wait. He had even had an FBI buddy try to identify her. He knew he was being irrational – of all the cases they’d had, this was the one that he was obsessing over and in the process, he had almost blown his cover. Just ten minutes ago, in the office he shared with Sara, she had said, “I’ve gone over those. She’s not there.”

“Maybe you missed something,” he had replied angrily.

She had put a hand over her bracelet, which Jake knew to be a nervous habit of hers that generally preceded her intuitive leaps. “This case is personal, isn’t it?”

It was, and he had almost said as much, but he couldn’t say so because that would blow his cover. Ex-surfer champ turned NYPD police detective Jake McCartey’s mother was alive and well in San Diego; FBI Agent Jake McCartey’s mother had been shot dead in LA two years ago. He couldn’t share that with his partner and risk blowing the White Bulls investigation.

Jake had given Sara a half-hearted apology and took off to get some air. The one good thing he could say about New York winters was that the biting cold quickly cleared his head. He stepped back into the precinct, heading back to his office.

“Hey, McCartey! Wait up!”

Jake turned, seeing the desk sergeant waving at him. A man dressed in black thanked the desk sergeant and sprinted over to Jake. He was tall, his face serious and intense, and in a vague way reminded Jake of that psycho Nottingham…except Jake didn’t think that Nottingham’s eyes could ever look so sorrowful.

“Detective McCartey?” the man asked.

“Yeah. Can I help you?”

He flashed an FBI badge and ID. “I’m Special Agent Jarod Webster. I’m here about the Jane Doe that was killed yesterday.” The words had come out quickly with that official urgency that demanded Jake’s upmost attention.

Jake wondered briefly whether Jane Doe was one of the agent’s cases – maybe a witness? The black jeans, black sweater and black leather duster that Webster wore made Jake quickly toss that idea aside. No SA on official business would wear anything other than a dark suit (not to mention that Webster’s hair was way too long by Bureau standards), and they would definitely go through channels (i.e., through the captain) to stake their claim on a case. Webster was trying to hide his distress as urgency. This must be personal.

As if reading Jake’s mind, Webster said softly, “I think…I think she may be my mother.”

“Let’s talk in private.”

Anger – or maybe desperation? – flashed in Webster’s eyes. Webster lowered his head then nodded, letting Jake lead him to the office.

~*~*~*~*~

All the Witchblade had shown Sara was Jake standing in front of a casket on a day so beautifully sunny and clear that it had to be California. Sara didn’t know who was in the casket, but she could guess – a mother or a sister or even an aunt, someone who Jake was close to and someone who Jane Doe reminded him of. She hadn’t planned to press him for details; she had only wanted to know whether his objectivity was compromised. Glancing at the Witchblade, she decided she would drop it. They had been partners for a couple of months now, but they weren’t friends. Jake was entitled to his secrets just like she was.

The door to their office opened and a man entered followed by Jake. Sara got that feeling again – the feeling she always got when Nottingham was around. Refuge. That word always seemed to pop into her head when she got that feeling, but Sara had yet to find the words to describe the sensation. It was like a warmth that spread from the Witchblade through her arm to the rest of her body…only it wasn’t quite the physical sensation of warmth; it was a sense of security mixed with something like recognition. That unsolicited familiarity, those feelings that weren’t her own, made her wary of Nottingham every time. She wondered briefly if he was waiting outside to tell her something or just stalking her. Either way, she’d have to talk to him about that.

Jake said, “Detective Sara Pezzini, Special Agent Jarod Webster. He’s here about Jane Doe.”

Webster was lean and athletic with dark hair and sad brown eyes. A small part of her brain processed the thought that Nottingham’s eyes were more soulful. Webster stretched out a hand, “Nice to meet you.”

Sara took his hand and was immediately assaulted with a barrage of visions:

A red file folder with only an identification number on the tab.

A young boy’s voice saying, “Cree craw toad’s foot, geese walk barefoot.”

A girl saying, “Girls mature faster than boys.”

An older boy in a plastic sphere encircled by flames yelling, “I’m burning! I‘m burning!”

Then, even faster, vision after vision…

Webster dressed a doctor

Webster in fireman’s gear

Webster in a cop’s uniform, then a SWAT outfit, then bomb squad gear, then Navy khakis, then head- to-toe camouflage, then an Army dress uniform

Webster reading someone’s palm, flying a jet, cracking a safe, driving an Indy car

Webster in a straight jacket, yelling “Where are my mom and dad?!”

Webster hanging from a ceiling, wrists bound, screaming as jumper cables make contact with his skin

Sara let go of his hand. She was trying to sort out all those visions as she watched Jake offer Webster a seat which he declined. All she knew was that Jarod Webster was definitely not an FBI agent. Sara let out a breath. “What can we do for you?”

“As I told your partner, I think your Jane Doe might be my mother.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a picture. He held it up to them and Sara could practically feel him trying to keep his hand steady. “This is a picture of her when she was younger. Is this her?”

The woman in the picture was the one Sara had seen in her vision. Jane Doe’s hair had more gray and the remaining red hair had faded several shades; Jane Doe was older, but it was definitely the woman in the picture. Webster looked back and forth between Jake and Sara seeing confirmation in their expressions.

To Sara’s surprise, it was Jake who spoke. “I’m sorry…Jarod.”

Webster’s hand fell down to his side. He whispered, “Mom.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he re-opened them, they glistened with unshed tears. He looked up at Sara then Jake. “I need to see her.”

~*~*~*~*~

Jake, Jarod and Sara were silent on their way to the morgue. Jake could tell that Sara wanted to ask Jarod some questions about his mother and her death, but it was clear from Jarod’s stiff demeanor that he wasn’t ready to talk about her, not until he had seen the body and confirmed it for himself. Jake wasn’t surprised when Sara volunteered to hunt down the ME on duty to see if they had anything new.

Jake had come earlier to get Jane Doe’s prints so he led Jarod right to her drawer, number 27. Jake opened it and pulled the drawer out. He glanced at Jarod who was now visibly shaking. Jake reached for the sheet covering the body, only to have Jarod grab his arm. “Please…I…”

Jake nodded, understanding. It was Jarod’s mother and he wanted to this alone.

~*~*~*~*~

Sara saw Jake standing outside the morgue alone. “Jake,” she drawled, trying to reign in her temper, “where’s Webster?”

He indicated the double doors behind him. “He’s in there.”

“What the hell? You left an unknown person alone with a homicide victim?”

Sara made to go around him, but Jake moved to block her.

“Relax, Pez. He’s a Fed and I’m watching from here. Give him a break. That’s his mom.”

“We don’t know that.”

Jake indicated the small window in one of the doors. “Yes, we do. No one’s that good an actor.”

Sara looked through the window and was taken aback by the sight. Webster stood next to the open drawer, shaking as he wept, his hands clenched at his sides. The Witchblade warmed on her wrist and she felt Webster’s sorrow and despair, but before the sensations could overwhelm her, her vision blurred…

The red-haired woman, in her twenties, with a head of red hair and bright blue eyes, rocking a baby in her arms while singing, “Cree craw toad’s foot, geese walk barefoot.”

The woman, older, seeing Jarod from several feet away saying “I love you, I love you” as she is dragged into a cab.

Sara blinked, as the vision faded. She saw Jarod cover the body and push the drawer back in. He closed the door, his hand resting on it for a moment. He turned, wiping his face as he headed back out to join Sara and Jake.

Sara knew he was lying about his identity, but his grief, without a doubt, was real. “I’m sorry, Jarod,” she said, “I know this is difficult, but any information you can give us…”

Jake interrupted a little angrily. “Pez, give him a minute, will you?”

Sara glared at Jake. “Maybe you need a minute, rookie.” She turned back to Jarod to find him looking at her curiously.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “We want to find who did this to her and bring them to justice.”

Jarod nodded. He opened his mouth, closed it, took a breath, then tried again. “Her name was Margaret Charles. I don’t know much more than that. I…I was taken from my family when I was four years old. My brother was taken shortly after. I’ve spent the last four years searching for my family. I only found my father two years ago.” He turned to look through the window in the door back into the morgue. “He had been looking for her, too.”

“Do you know of anyone who might want to kill her?” Sara asked.

Jarod turned back to her, a slight hesitation before shaking his head no.

The Witchblade tightened slightly on her wrist. He was lying. Sara knew it. She also knew that he was holding back about why and how his family had scattered. “What about the people who took you? Would they want to harm your mother?”

Jarod shook his head again and, again, the Witchblade tightened on her wrist. Another lie. His mother’s murder was definitely related to his abduction. She was about to press him on it, when Danny’s voice suddenly came from Jake’s general direction. “He’s not ready to tell you now.”

She glanced toward Jake to see Danny standing next to him. Danny smiled. “Patience, grasshopper.”

Jake said to Jarod, “Is there anyone you want us to contact?”

“No, thank you. I will contact my father.” Jarod looked at Jake then at Sara. “I want to know who did this. I want…I need to work the case with you.”

Sara was shaking her head. “No way. I don’t need to tell you how many rules we’d be bending and breaking if we let you tag along. We’ll keep you in the loop, but…”

“Please,” Jarod interrupted through clenched teeth. “I’ve been searching for her for so long. Let me do this.”

“Are we the only ones who know your relationship to her?” Jake asked suddenly.

Jarod blinked in surprise. “Yes. There’s no paper trail that links her to me. The people who took me made sure of that.”

Sara immediately knew what Jake was implying: officially, their victim was not related to Jarod. Before she could say anything, Jake turned his full attention to Sara. “He’s a trained agent. He won’t hinder us. We could say he’s here to observe us. We do get all the weird cases.”

Danny added, “Listen to the rookie.”

Sara almost blew up at Danny, but stopped herself. She took a few aimless steps, trying to keep calm. She couldn’t tell Jake that Jarod had lied about being an FBI agent and that he knew more about his mother’s murder than he had said. She could tell Jake it was a gut feeling or woman’s intuition rather than the Witchblade, but that sounded lame even to Sara. She pointed at Jake. “This is on you, Jake. It’s your job to make sure he doesn’t compromise the investigation and to get it squared away with Dante.” She sighed. “I know this is going to come back and bite me in the ass.”

“Thank you, both of you,” Jarod said earnestly.

Jake smiled. “You won’t regret this, Pez.”

“Oh, I already do.”

~*~*~*~*~