Some secrets stay in the past, some don't. So what would happen if a secret from the past surfaced in the present? Everything would be cool, wouldn't it? Guess it all depends on what the secret is and who you're hiding it from...

A/N: My first CJ fanfic...please be gentle!

Chapter One: Voices From the Past

"So, what've we got so far on the body?" Detective Woody Hoyt asked Jordan Cavanaugh as they walked towards the autopsy room.
"Well, we found some ID on her, so we know who she was, and if I'm not too far off, I think Peter and Bug are almost done sewing her up, so we're finished with the autopsy. You wanna come in?" replied Jordan as they approached the door of the autopsy room.
Woody hesitated. It was common knowledge around the M.E.'s office that he wasn't all that enthusiastic about being around cut-up dead people. But this time, he decided to go in, just to hear the results of the autopsy. Upon reaching his decision, he nodded to Jordan. She opened the door and they entered the room.
Upon entering the room, the first thing Woody noticed was the smell. "Damn," he thought. "You'd think I would've gotten used to this..." The second thing he noticed was the body. The cover had been replaced, but a hand was visibly hanging out from under the sheet, the ring finger of which had a class ring on it. A class ring that Woody immediately recognized as one from his high school back in Wisconsin.
"So guys," said Jordan, momentarily distracting Woody from his thoughts, "What's the verdict?" Peter and Bug looked up from the paperwork they were filling out.
"Well," said Bug, "It was definitely the gunshots that killed her. 2 in the chest, 3 in the back, the 2nd chest wound being the fatal wound. She was dead before the other three shots were fired."
"Whoever did this really did a number on her," said Peter. This was the first time he had been really shocked at a body since his wife's came in. "It was almost as if they wanted to make sure she was dead before they ran off."
"Well, she was," Woody said offhandedly. During the conversation, he had been edging closer to the body, to get a good look at the ring. When he was close enough to the body and had made sure that Peter, Jordan, and Bug were deep enough in conversation to not notice, he lifted the hand to look at the ring.
It was an ordinary enough ring, he noticed. Definitely from his high school, from his graduating class as well. Then he noticed the inscription on the side of the ring, the one that said: WHJB. He gasped, quietly he thought, but obviously loud enough for Jordan to hear and say, "What's wrong?"
"Um, can I see the ring a second?" Woody asked. Peter and Bug looked at him for a second, looking like they were trying to decide if he had suddenly decided to take up grave robbery. After what seemed like hours to Woody, Peter nodded and took the ring off the body's finger, handing it to Woody.
Woody turned the ring over, reading the name on the inside of it. In simple script, it read: Jennifer Michelle Baxter. His heart sank. He knew this woman. In a seemingly calm voice, he said "Did we get the ID on her?"
Bug nodded and said, "Jennifer Baxter-Brown, age 33, married, 3 kids."
"Did you get the kids' names?"
"Yeah," said Peter, giving Woody a "what the hell?" look. "Lori, Jessica, and Amanda. Why?"
"Let me see the body," Woody said, trying to keep his voice even.
"OK, you're starting to scare me Woody," Jordan said. "Why do you want to see the body?"
"Just let me see the body," he said quietly.
Jordan shrugged and said "OK" before pulling the sheet off of the face. Woody looked at the body on the slab, and recognized the face immediately. It had been a little over 15 years, but he still knew her, could still recognize her. He just stared at her, unable to say anything, until Jordan asked him, "Who is she? Someone you know?"
"Yeah," Woody said shakily. "She's my ex-girlfriend from high school, Jen Baxter. The mother of my daughter."
"What?" said Jordan, Bug, and Peter at the same time.
"It's true," said Woody. "Her oldest daughter, Amanda, is my daughter."

At the same time, in a house in another part of Boston, Amanda Baxter was laughing. That is, she was laughing at the antics of her 7-year- old sister Jessica, who was tickling her baby sister Lori with a feather and making weird faces. They had been laughing like this for the past hour and a half, and they would've laughed longer if the phone hadn't rung. The other adult in the room stood up and went to answer the phone.
"Baxter residence, to whom am I speaking?" asked Donna Baxter, the girls' aunt.
"You still sound like you always did Donna," said the voice on the other end of the line.
"Woody? Is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me."
"You sound upset, what's wrong?"
Woody sighed on the other end of the phone line. He knew this would be hard. Even though she was 3 years younger, Donna Baxter had always been close to her older sister Jen. But Donna was the closest person that he could call, and he knew it had to be done sometime.
"This is really hard for me to say, but-"
Donna cut him off. She knew what he was about to say; and-to spare the both of them-she said it herself.
"Jen's dead, isn't she?"
"Yeah, she is. I just found out myself, I'm at the morgue right now. My boss actually set me to work on the case, and I had to get autopsy results, and...well, you get the picture." He waited for the sobbing to start, but he was surprised when Donna didn't start crying.
"What do I need to do?"
"Actually, it's what Amanda needs to do."
"What do you mean?"
"The M.E. working the case, Dr. Cavanaugh, found a paper in Jen's purse when they were looking for ID. Apparently, it was a will, and it named Amanda as next of kin."
"You're saying that your 18 year old daughter has to go ID her mom at the morgue," Donna said in disbelief.
"Pretty much," Woody answered.
"When?"
"Tomorrow, if possible."
Donna looked over at her oldest niece, who was now happily being chased around the living room by her younger sister and laughing loudly. She sighed and said, "Tomorrow's fine. When should I bring her down?"
"I'll do it," Woody said. "I haven't seen Amanda in years. I think if anyone's going to take her there, it should be her father."
"Fine," said Donna, and after making final arrangements, she hung up the phone. It took her a few minutes, but she finally gathered the strength to say, "Amanda, I need you to come in here a moment."