Jane Doe - by ljordyn23 (page 2)

Several days later, Grissom was sitting in Jane’s hospital room, a brooding look on his face. Jane still had no memory and the evidence made no sense. He’d talked to a few doctors about Jane. They’d all agreed that it was likely that Jane’s continued amnesia was psychological. They said it wasn’t that uncommon for someone with amnesia to continue to block out memories for psychological reasons—for some reason she didn’t want to remember her life. It was as frustrating for him as it probably was for Jane.

The evidence was just as frustrating. One of the guns had Jane’s fingerprints. His team had been suspicious enough of Jane before discovering her fingerprints on the gun.

The other gun had fingerprints of Tony Patrillo, a man know to have dealings with the Mafia. The bullet that had been removed from the dog had been fired from Patrillo’s gun.

They didn’t know if Jane had fired the gun with Jane’s prints. By the time they found the gun it had been too late to test Jane’s hands for gunpowder residue. He suspected that unless Jane remembered what had happened in the desert, they would never find out what had happened. He hated unsolved crimes and this one staying unsolved was his fault.

A nurse knocked on Jane’s door and entered the room, snapping Grissom out of his musings of self-loathing.

“And how are we doing today?” she asked.

“Fine,” Jane said. Grissom tried not to smile. He knew it bugged Jane when someone asked her how “we” were doing.

“So where are you going when you’re released tomorrow?” The annoying nurse asked.

“I don’t know,” Jane said fidgeting uncomfortably.

“Well maybe we should have a plan, now shouldn’t we,” the nurse said.

“I’ll be fine,” Jane said gritting her teeth.

“Sure you will, dear,” the nurse said in a patronizing voice. “Now you just push that call button if you need something.”

The nurse turned and walked out of the room. Jane threw the teddy bear Angie had given her at the retreating nurse. Grissom laughed and retrieved the bear.

“You didn’t tell me you were being released tomorrow,” he said.

Jane shrugged.

“You don’t have a place to go, do you?” he asked.

Jane shook her head, looking down at her hands.

“Then you’ll stay with me,” Grissom said impulsively.

Jane shook her head again. “No, you’ve done too much for me already.”

“Don’t worry about that. It’s not a problem. I have an extra bedroom where you can stay as long as you want.”

Jane looked at him. “Are you sure?” she asked.

Grissom smiled. “Yes. It’ll make me feel better if I know you’re safe.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Jane said hesitantly.

“I am. But you’ll have to behave yourself. No throwing teddy bears at me.”

“I’ll try,” Jane said grinning.

* * * * * * * * * * *

More than a week later, Brass poked his head into Grissom’s office. “Hey, I just went to the hospital to see the Jane Doe,” he said. “They told me she’d been released over a week ago. Do you know where she is?”

“Yes,” Grissom said.

“And are you going to share that information?”

“She’s staying at my house.”

“What?” Brass said in surprise. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Why? She needed a place to stay.”

“Gil,” Brass said shaking his head.

“If one more person tells me I’m being stupid, I’m going to throw something.”

“Then I guess I’d better go,” Brass said. “You are being stupid and I don’t think I can keep from telling you that.”

Brass turned and walked out of Grissom’s office, furious with his friend for doing something so stupid and dangerous.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Brass rang Grissom’s doorbell, knowing Grissom was still at work and the woman they were still calling Jane Doe would be here alone. “He’s going to kill me for this,” Brass mumbled to himself.

Jane opened the door. Brass smiled at her nervously. “I’m Jim Brass. I don’t know if you remember me, but…”

“You’re a policeman, right?” Jane interrupted.

“Yes. I have some pictures for you to see if you wouldn’t mind coming with me. I was hoping the pictures might help you remember something. We can have Gil sit with you if it would make you feel better.”

“Okay,” Jane replied, hesitantly. “Just let me get my key.”

“Sure, I’ll be waiting for you in the car.”

Walking toward the car, Brass mumbled, shaking his head, “I can’t believe the idiot gave her a key to his house.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

Brass and Jane walked into the crime lab. Brass thought it would be best to have Jane look at the pictures here where Grissom could watch and make sure they weren’t browbeating her. He knew Grissom would be mad that he brought Jane here, but that couldn’t be helped. Something had happened in the desert where they had found Jane and he suspected Jane was more than just a victim. The sooner Grissom realized this, the better. Grissom had done some stupid things before, but this was so stupid it didn’t even compare. He shuddered every time he thought about Jane staying in Grissom’s house.

Brass and Jane walked into Grissom’s office. Brass knew it would be best to tell Grissom about the pictures now. Telling him first might keep Grissom’s inevitable explosion to a small one. He knocked on the door and opened it, hearing Grissom’s “Come in.”

Brass cleared his throat. “I brought Jane here to look at some pictures. I thought it might help her remember what happened to her in the desert.”

Grissom stood, trying to control his anger.

“I told her you could sit with her while she looked at the pictures and she agreed,” Brass said, wincing slightly and hoping Grissom didn’t throw something at him.

Grissom sighed. “Let’s get it over with then.”

“I have the pictures in the conference room.” Brass said.

“Fine,” Grissom said, walking over and putting his arm around Jane protectively. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked her.

She smiled at him. “I want to remember.”

Grissom smiled back at her. “Let’s go then. You coming Brass?”

Brass followed the two of them to the conference room. The three sat down at the table, Grissom and Jane on one side, Brass on the other. Brass slid a folder across the table to Jane. Inside were photos of the man whose fingerprints they had found at the crime scene—Tony Patrillo. Jane opened the folder and looked at the first picture. Immediately her face turned a deathly white. Concerned, Grissom took her hand. Jane pulled her hand away and continued to stare at the picture. She stared for what seemed like an eternity, the color slowly coming back to her face. Finally she looked up, closed the folder, and slid it back across the table to Brass. She looked at Brass directly in the eyes.

“May I go now?” she asked.

Brass suddenly found it rather difficult to breathe, his heart pounding and his throat constricting. Throughout his entire career in law enforcement, he’d never backed down to anyone. Until today. He nodded, unable to speak.

She stood, walked to the door, and walked out of the conference room. Grissom sat for a moment, looking back and forth from Brass to the still open door. He’d never seen Brass look this way before. He almost looked afraid. Confused, Grissom walked to the door, looking down the hallway for Jane. He ran after her, trying to catch her. He caught her and grabbed her arm. Before Grissom could react, Jane turned and pushed Grissom up against the wall, her hand tightening around his throat.

Grissom looked into Jane’s eyes and saw what had scared Brass. The person standing before him with her hand around his throat was no longer the Jane Doe he knew. This person was someone cold. Someone ruthless. Someone capable of killing him.

Nick, turning the corner into the hallway, saw Jane, her hand around Grissom’s throat. He ran down the hall to pull Jane away. Jane turned to Nick, pushing him away with such force that he fell to the floor. Jane looked back at Grissom, who was coughing and rubbing this throat. She narrowed her eyes, then turned and walked quickly out of the crime lab, leaving Nick and Grissom starting in disbelief at Jane.

Nick looked at Grissom. “What was that?” He asked.

“I’m not sure,” Grissom replied, his voice raspy.

* * * * * * * * * * *
“Have you heard from her?” Brass asked, standing in the doorway to Grissom’s office.

“No. She hasn’t contacted me and I’ve looked everywhere for her. I went down to the vet’s office where her dog was, but the dog was gone. Jane had been there and had the dog sent to a woman in Virginia. I called the woman and she said she didn’t know what or who I was talking about.”

Brass stepped into the office, closing the door behind him. He looked at Grissom, concerned. Grissom looked as though he hadn’t slept at all in the two days Jane had been gone. Catherine was sitting on the edge of Grissom’s desk.

“I’ve had a lot of people looking for her. Nobody’s been able to find out anything. It’s like she’s disappeared of the face of the earth. And I still haven’t been able to find out who she is. She doesn’t seem to exist,” Brass said.

Grissom started to rub his forehead. “I know,” he said. “None of this makes any sense.”

“Sure doesn’t,” Catherine said, joining in the conversation. “I wonder who she is.”

“I wish I knew,” Grissom replied.

“You need to stop looking for her, Gil,” Brass said.

“What? Why?”

“She’s dangerous,” Brass replied.

Grissom started shaking his head. “She’s not.”

“Yes, she is,” Brass said. After what she did to you. You know she nearly killed you.”

“She wouldn’t have killed me.”

“Yeah, that choking thing she was doing to you…”

“Stop,” Grissom interrupted.

“Gil, she’s dangerous. We can all see it,” Catherine said.

“No.”

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I have an idea who she might be,” Brass said. “I’ve been trying to confirm it, but I haven’t been able to so far. If she is who I think she is, she’s very dangerous.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you might know why she is?”

“He didn’t tell you because every time anyone says anything negative about Jane, you go nuts. We tried to tell you it wasn’t a good idea to have her stay with you when you knew nothing about who she was. You got mad,” Catherine said. “If Brass had told you his theory, you would have really gone off.”

“So who do you think she is?” Grissom asked, glaring at Brass.

“I think she may be a hitwoman for the Mafia.”

Grissom laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“No, I’m not. You know that guy in the pictures I showed Jane—Tony Patrillo—every Mafia family in the country is after him.” Brass replied. “Apparently he’s started a lot of Mafia wars for his own enjoyment or something. There’ve been a lot of killings and the families are out for revenge. I think someone found out he was in Vegas and sent Jane to kill him. Something went wrong and she ended up in the hospital with amnesia.”

“Brass talked to Agent Haliwell to see if the FBI knew anything about her. He showed him her picture, but Haliwell had never seen her. He checked around, but nobody’s heard of her. He does agree with Brass’s theory though.”

“Yeah, he told me that Mafias have become equal opportunity employers, so they would send a woman to kill someone,” Brass said. “We thought she might have been staying with you hoping she could lure Patrillo to your house and get you to kill him. That way the guy’d be taken out courtesy of Vegas Metro. Whoever sent her would probably get a kick out of that. We may have been wrong about that. She may have actually not remembered anything until I showed her those pictures of Patrillo.”

“So if the Mafia is really out to get this guy, why hasn’t he gone to the Feds to try to get protection in exchange for information?” Grissom asked.

“It seems the FBI wants him dead, too,” Brass replied. “Turns out two agents went to Patrillo to ask him if he was interested in a deal. Somehow he caught the two agents and tortured them before shooting them execution-style. He videotaped the whole thing then sent the tape to the FBI in D.C. They haven’t been able to find him, but Patrillo’s found plenty of trouble since then. They’re pretty sure Patrillo killed a U.S. Marshal in Kentucky, a Texas Ranger, and a patrol officer in Denver.”

“Nice guy, huh,” Catherine said. “There’s no official ‘Shoot to Kill’ order on Patrillo, but no one would be upset if a Mafia hit was successful.”

“You’re both crazy,” Grissom said. “Jane is not a Mafia hitwoman.”

“Maybe not,” Catherine said, “but she is dangerous. It would be best for you to forget about her.”

“Maybe,” Grissom said, “but I can’t do that.”

He stood and walked out of his office. Catherine and Brass looked at each other worriedly.

“This is not good,” Brass said.

“No,” Catherine said, “it’s not.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

Later that night, the ringing of Grissom’s cell phone interrupted his meeting with Catherine and Brass.

“Grissom,” he said, answering his phone. “Where? I’ll be right there.”

Grissom stood up and walked out of his office, saying nothing to Catherine or Brass. He’d completely forgotten they were there.

“What was that all about?” Catherine asked Brass.

Brass just shrugged. He had a bad feeling that the only person right now who could cause that kind of reaction with Grissom was Jane Doe.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Twenty minutes later Grissom walked into a nearly deserted diner. The man behind the counter looked suspiciously at Grissom. He was a large, bald man with olive-colored skin and a menacing scar that extended from his left eyebrow, across his nose, to his right ear. Grissom started to turn and walk out and then he saw her. Jane Doe was sitting in a booth farthest away from the door. She was watching him. Grissom glanced again at the man, then walked toward Jane.

“Sit,” she said, her eyes no longer watching Grissom, but watching the door.

Grissom sat. He said nothing for a few minutes, watching her watching the door.

“I was worried about you,” he said.

Jane looked quickly at him. A brief look of confusion replaced the hollow look in her eyes, only to be replaced with the hollow look just as quickly. Here eyes moved back to the door.

“After what I did to you?” she asked her voice free from any emotion.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said.

“I know.”

She laughed a quiet, humorless laugh. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Why don’t you tell me?” he said, his voice gently. “Do you remember who you are?”

She glanced at him again. “I remember everything—maybe too much. You probably want to know what happened that night in the desert.”

“Yes,” he said. “If you can tell me.”

“Whisper found him first,” she said.

“Your dog?”

“Not my dog. He shot Whisper—just like he…” Jane swallowed. “I hesitated and when he shot at me, I fell. I won’t hesitate again.”

“I don’t understand,” Grissom said. “Start…”

Before he could finish his sentence, the bell on the door to the diner jingled. Jane stood as a man walked into the diner. For the first time, Grissom realized Jane was wearing gloves. In her right hand, he saw her gun.

“Tony Patrillo,” she called out to the man who had just entered the diner. She walked toward him. “Drop the gun!”

Grissom turned and watched what almost seemed like a movie in slow motion.

The man’s back was turned toward Jane, but Grissom could see his hand moving toward the inside of his coat.

“I’m through playing with you lady,” the man said.

“Yes, you are,” Jane replied.

The man turned with what seemed like lightening speed, pulling a gun out of his coat and raising it toward Jane. He was fast. She was faster.

This time she didn’t hesitate.

Grissom stared in horror at the man now lying in a rapidly spreading pool of blood. As Jane walked closer to the man, Grissom followed her. He could see the bullet hole in the center of the man’s forehead. His eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling, his gun still in his hand.

Hearing a sound behind him, Grissom turned. The large man with the scar who had been behind the counter was walking toward Grissom, pointing a gun at him. He said something in what sounded like Italian. Jane responded in the same language. The man continued to walk toward Grissom, never lowering his gun. Jane stepped in between the man and Grissom.

“No,” she said to the man.

The man began to yell at Jane, again in what sounded like Italian, gesturing wildly and pointing at Grissom and the man dead on the floor.

Jane sighed and nodded. Satisfied, the man with the scar stepped back. Grissom turned to look at Jane as she slowly raised her gun to point it at Grissom’s head.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“I know,” he said quietly, smiling slightly.

Jane stared at him for a minute before lowering her gun. “Get out of here,” she said, gesturing toward the door with her gun.

The man with the scar started yelling again, so angry he was spitting. Jane raised her gun again, this time pointing it at the man with the scar.

“Grissom, get out of here now!” Jane yelled.

Grissom, not knowing what else to do, quickly walked out of the diner. In the parking lot, he ran to his Tahoe. His hands shaking, he pulled his keys out of his pocket and opened the door. He got into the Tahoe and drove away, not looking back.

A block away from the diner, Grissom took out his phone and called Brass.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Back inside the diner, Jane lowered her gun. The man with the scar started to speak, but looking into Jane’s eyes he changed his mind. He knew she would have killed him and still might. He turned and walked to the back door of the diner. Jane followed.

Outside he got into a parked car. Jane got into the passenger’s side. The man started the car, muttering something about leaving witnesses.

Jane reached over and grabbed the steering wheel. The man with the scar looked at her questioningly.

“Stay away from him,” Jane said. “If I ever hear of anything happening to him, I’ll find you and before I’m through with you, you’ll be begging me to blow your brains out.”

The man with the scar nodded, never doubting for a minute that what she said wasn’t just a threat. It was a promise.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The next day Grissom was sitting on the bed in his guestroom, holding the teddy bear Angie had given Jane. He’d been answering Brass’s questions—the same questions with the same answers—over and over again since he had called him about what had happened at the diner. When the patrol units and then Brass had arrived at the diner, Jane and the man with the scar were gone. The body of Patrillo was still there, but that was the only evidence that anything out of the ordinary had occurred at the diner.

Brass had gathered everything he had from that crime scene as well as the crime scene in the desert. He would start an investigation, but Grissom knew it was unlikely anyone would find any answers.

Grissom sighed and put the bear back down on the bed. He left everything in the bedroom just the way Jane had left it. He knew he would probably never find Jane, but he knew he would keep looking—always.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Brass and Grissom were sitting in Brass’s office when Sheriff Mobley walked in.

“Where’s all the information you have on Jane Doe?” he asked.

“In this box,” Brass replied. “I have everything together to start my investigation.”

“What all do you have?”

“All the pictures of her and both crimes scenes—negatives, too. The guns we found. The file with her fingerprints. What little evidence we have is in this box.”

“Are there any copies of any of these things?” Mobley asked.

“No,” Brass said. “Why?”

“I’m taking the box,” Mobley replied.

“I need that for my investigation!”

“There will be no investigation.”

“What?” Brass said angrily.

Grissom, who had been sitting quietly, stood. “What’s going on Brian?”

“Nothing, and if both of you value your jobs, your careers,” the sheriff paused, “and I suspect your lives, both of you will forget about Jane Doe.”

Sheriff Mobley walked over to Brass’s desk and pick up the box. Brass and Grissom watched him, stunned by what he just said. Mobley started to walk out of the office with the box.

“What are you going to do with that evidence?” Brass asked, still angry.

The sheriff turned slightly. “What evidence?”