Chapter Eight

The case of the serial murderer/rapist continued to twist its way through Jordan's life, consuming nearly every waking hour of her day and robbing her of much-needed sleep at night. And while her relationships with her morgue employees had gotten markedly better…they were working together as a team…Jordan's expectations for herself had gotten harsher. Woody could read it on her face…the worry lines…the dark circles beneath her eyes…the tightness between her shoulders. The signs were all there…this case was eating her alive.

And he was scared to death that she was going to burn herself out over it…become so unfocused on all her other obligations as a chief ME that she neglected them…and end up getting fired. He didn't want that. He wanted her in Boston until she decided to retire. He had to snap her out of it.

The opportunity presented itself when Jordan was the ME on duty the day the next victim was found. She answered Woody's call, showing up at the edge of a wooded area outside the city limits. Woody watched as she meticulously processed the scene, nearly barking orders at the morgue workers. From the expression on their faces and hers, he knew this case was dragging everyone down….but Jordan was once again oblivious to how her actions were affecting others….that much about her hadn't changed. If she thought she was in the right, heaven, hell, or God himself couldn't stop her. And nothing was stopping her now.

But he needed to. He had to.

"Jordan," he said to her quietly, after she had finished her work there and was getting ready to leave the scene. "Can I have a word with you?" He pulled her away from the other officers and morgue workers, out of hearing and viewing distance. "What is going on here?"

"We're processing a murder scene."

"No. With you. What's going on?"

"Nothing. Nothing's going on," she replied, somewhat puzzled.

Placing his hands on his hips, looking up toward the sky, and taking a deep breath, he replied, "I don't buy it."

"Don't buy what?"

"Don't play games with me, Jordan. I've known you too well and too long. If there's anybody left in Boston that knows what makes you tick, it's me. You're too tense. Too uptight even for this case, as horrible as it is. Look at yourself," he gestured to her, "even your hair is uptight." She was still wearing her hair pulled back in a twist.

"I am not," she quickly retorted, putting more force behind the words than she wanted to. "I'm just careful…thorough."

"You're too careful. The Jordan I remember wouldn't be so afraid to take risks…both personally and in solving a case. She could let her hair down, both literally and figuratively. She wouldn't lock herself away in a big house on Beacon Hill…she wouldn't have married an older man for financial security."

By the look of pain that shot across Jordan's face, he knew he had hurt her. He had gone too far...crossed the line. He didn't want to…but he had to snap her out of deep attachment to this case. He needed to stop now…but he was worked up and determined to bring her around somehow. "I mean, wasn't that why you really married Jon?"

His words were cutting her like razor blades. Stuffing back her emotions, setting her face rigid so he couldn't read the shock and hurt that was there, she backed away from Woody. "You know nothing….nothing…about it, or me….or Jon," she hissed, surprised herself by the tone of her voice.

"Really?" He closed the distance between them. "Then explain to me, Jordan…tell me….what happened to make you such a bitch? Maybe this will help loosen you up…it always did in the past." And before he could stop himself, he leaned down and kissed her. Hard. Giving her no room to run or reply, catching her by surprise and bruising her lips.

Gasping, she broke away, shocked by what had just happened between them. Turning quickly, she almost ran back to her SUV and drove blindly back to the morgue.


She worked her way through the rest of the day in a fog, automatically overseeing trace and doing the autopsy. She was thankful Nigel was assisting her. Jordan had no idea that Woody had told Nige that she was a widow…all she knew was that the Brit's attitude towards her had softened. He had apologized profusely to her for his behavior and cold words…she had told him not to worry….just be her friend. And he had. When it was over…when what little evidence they could gather was being processed for the police, she snapped off her gloves. "I think I'm heading home, Nigel. I'm tired."

Nigel glanced at the clock. It was barely four in the afternoon, but Jordan looked beat. This case was riding her hard…she was exhausted. She had also been in the morgue since God knows when this morning. Maybe she was coming to her senses and realizing she needed to cool off. "Sounds like a good idea, love. Go home and put your feet up. If there's anything wonky that happens here, I'll give you a call. Okay?"

"Sounds like a plan. Good night, Nige."

She drove back to her home, pulling in the gate and letting herself in the back door. Mrs. Kimble was in the kitchen. "Dr.M…you're home early. I haven't prepared dinner yet."

"That's okay, Mrs. Kimble. I'm honestly not hungry. Go ahead and leave for the day….if I want something to eat, I can fix myself a sandwich."

Mrs. Kimble eyed the young ME. She hadn't worked for Jordan long, but had developed a deep affection for the lonely young woman. She knew Jordan never went out…just worked and came home. Her circle of friends was so limited, the housekeeper would swear it was nonexistent. She knew Jordan was still mourning the loss of her husband….she must have loved him very much despite their age differences…many mornings when Mrs. Kimble went to make the bed, she found traces of tears on Jordan's pillowcase.

But never a sign of any man in the house. Ever. Not only was Jordan nearly friendless, she was also deliberately celibate …in every way. She never dated. Mrs. Kimble sighed as she gathered her things to leave, hearing Jordan make her way upstairs to the bathroom. The lady needed a life. She needed to know how it felt to live again. She was too young to shut herself off like this.

The shower washed away the fog Jordan had been in since her encounter with Woody. Tentatively, she touched her lips, wincing at their tenderness They were bruised. She hoped that it wouldn't show. Maybe some darker lipstick instead of her normal light-toned peach would cover the bruises. She dried off and changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, and pulled her hair back in a clip. Padding downstairs to make sure Mrs. Kimble had left, she made herself a cup of coffee and curled up in a chair by the window in her study ….to think and look at her garden.

She knew what Woody was trying to do today…to get her to loosen up and take a step or two away from these cases….make her realize what they were doing to her. She knew it. But what he had said cut her to the quick. Not that she hadn't heard it before.

When she agreed to marry Jon, the talk in DC and in Texas had been that she was a gold digger…marrying an older man for his money. Nothing could have been further from the truth. She had her own money….she was paid very well as a federal inspector. Between that salary and her income from her father's bar, she had been well-off on her own. She had been the one to encourage Jon to draw up a prenuptial agreement. He had soundly refused. "My generation doesn't believe in that nonsense," he had said. "Girlie…you wouldn't harm a hair on my head…and I love yours too much to touch it. Let 'em talk. They'll soon find out the truth."

And they did. As the years went by without the couple divorcing, the talk died down some. Jordan was at Jon's side any and every time he needed her to be. Soon the love they had for each other clearly was seen. Then as his illness progressed and he grew sicker and sicker….and Jordan practically lived by his bedside, taking care of him. Her devotion to the senator had nearly elevated her to sainthood status in Texas. She pulled out all stops looking for a cure that wasn't out there yet….anything to prolong his life and ease his agony.

So Woody had been terribly wrong about the reasons she married Jon. It wasn't for financial security. Not a bit. It was for safety. Security from further harm. Jon protected her…and even in his death had made provision that she would always feel safe. Bodyguards when back in Texas or DC…top of the line security systems in her homes….the windows both in her house and cars were bullet proof.

No, she hadn't married Jon for his money….it was for her own safety. And that wasn't the only unconventional thing about their marriage. In exchange for her security, Jon had asked only for one thing. Her support during his re-election campaigns and to be his arm-trophy at dinners and such. She had gladly obliged. It was the least she could do after all he had done for her. She would be forever appreciative of the way he had literally saved her during the darkest period of her life.

No, their marriage wasn't a traditional romance. While there was deep abiding affection and even love on some level….it wasn't anything like Woody thought it was. It was a partnership. A friendship.

Truth was, she and Jon had never even slept together.