A/N: Don't own them. Thank you all so much for reviewing.
Kate was dry, warm, comfortable, surrounded by people who loved her and entirely pissed off. Nigel, in some obscure fit of sentimentalism, had burst into the closing hospital gift shop, surprised a tired adolescent volunteer, and bought a large helium balloon, which was now hanging over Kate's head. The hospital light's reflected off its garish lettering, which announced to anyone who looked up that "It's (Almost) A Girl (Or Boy)." The corrections had been made hurriedly by a sharpie as Nigel came up in the elevator. Kate was sure there was a better way to announce to the morgue that she was pregnant, and had reminded Nigel several times that "almost" meant six and a half months.
She was also sure she was losing circulation in her left leg, due to her position on the bed. But moving would mean alerting the others to the fact that she was awake, and she couldn't deal with anybody right now. Especially not Nigel.
Admittedly, there weren't that many other people in her room. Lily was hovering anxiously by the bed, and Nigel with her. But Lily was only there because, as she said, she was not going to be useful in processing the contents of Oliver's apartment. Nigel was there, Kate knew, though she shuddered to admit it, because he loved her.
And although they had discussed it, she was still unclear what to do about that. The morgue staff was having problems with it, too.
Xxxx
Several hours before as Kate lay in the bed, and Nigel rushed around after balloons. Bug, Lily and Jordan sat by Kate and kept watch. Or Jordan did. Bug and Lily were busy trying to communicate something across the bed.
Finally tried beyond her patience. Jordan barked "What?"
Bug looked guilty. "She's pregnant."
"I know."
"How do you know?" Lily asked, looking surprised, " You weren't there when Nigel yelled after her."
Jordan shrugged. "I ran into her at the store." Lily gave her a look. "Buying the test." Jordan clarified.
"And you didn't tell us?" Bug was hurt.
"It wasn't your business."
"Yes, but…"
"What Bug is trying to say," interrupted Lily, "is that it's all a bit strange.""
"Strange how?" Jordan's voice held dangerous undercurrents.
Bug attempted to salvage the situation. "Its just so feminine."
Jordan's face was unreadable. "She is a woman."
Bug nodded. "But she's usually so angry."
It was lucky that a nurse stopped by then to put a stop to the conversation, Jordan thought. The conversation was about to get awkward.
Xxxx
It was Jordan's turn to be annoyed. She had refused medical treatment and returned with the others to the morgue to try and finally find Abby, but Woody, newly reunited with his service pistol, had disappeared an hour before on a "hunch" and had not been seen or heard since. Her temper was not helped by the mountain of work piled in front of her on the conference room table. Oliver had kept all of his bills in a battered cardboard box that she had overturned in front of her. The thinking went that if he owned another place, somewhere where he kept Abby, it would be represented in a bill, or receipt or something. Jordan reflected that whoever had done that bit of thinking obviously hadn't seen the amount of bills on the table in front of her. It would take ages to go through all this thoroughly, and she wasn't even sure what she was looking for.
To make her job even more difficult, somewhere in that creepy little head of his, Oliver had hidden a meticulous accountant. Unfortunately, his inner accountant had reached neurotic long ago, and gotten worse since then. He had saved receipts from everything along with his utility bills. Chewing gum purchased at CVS was carefully documented.
Starbucks receipt, number 43… She threw it down on the table, and looked reluctantly at the pile of paper cuts waiting to happen. You're doing this for Garret, you're doing this for Garret.
A vibrating noise came from the other side of the table, followed by the crash that marked the moment when her phone had vibrated itself over the edge, helped by the jolt the table received when she attempted to dive after it, and succeeded only in slamming her already bruised hip into the edge of the table.
Swearing loudly she ducked under the table and picked it up. She glanced quickly at the blue caller ID bar on the front, before flicking it open, and crawling back out from under the table.
"Woody! Where the hell are you?" She stood up, and irritably ran a hand back through her hair, taking a certain angry satisfaction when her hair caught in her watch and ripped.
"Alfons Dimmen, Jordan."
"Who?" Her voice had lost only the slightest bit of edge, and the word came out in a snap. She held the phone between her head and shoulder as she idly removed strands of hair from her watchband.
"Alfons Dimmen," he carefully enunciated.
She rolled her eyes, "Yes, Woody. Got that the first time. Now, who is he and why do I care?"
"One of Abby's angry boyfriends. Came after Alvaro Sanchez. Remember, back before we thought she'd been kidnapped and just wanted to find her?" He sounded slightly smug. Jordan wasn't sure she wanted to know why.
"This is important how?" He was almost as frustrating as Nigel.
"Well, it seems our Abby has a thing for convicts. Alvaro Sanchez, petty thief. But, Alfons Dimmen? Drug possession, intent to distribute, oh, had a stolen tazer. Guess who he shared a cell block with, back in the day?"
"Oliver Titleman."
Xxxxx
"You know, they're both Germanic names, Dimmen and Titleman," Jordan mused fifteen minutes later as they crowded around Woody in Trace. "I bet it was Teitelmann or something when they came over."
"This is relevant how?" Bug asked, looking away from Woody, and the screen displaying Alfons' face.
"The fact that they were cell buddies is relevant how?" Jordan paused a moment. "Oh, right, we don't know. Right now, all we have are the funny coincidences too weird to be just coincidences."
Bug snorted. "Probable ethnicity is stretching it a bit."
Woody cleared his throat. "People, people. If we could settle down, please?" Bug and Jordan glared at him. "And focus on these?" He gestured to the mug shot and the folder in his hand.
"Okay, so we know that the novelist boyfriend reported her missing the day the plane went down. " Jordan began, nodding as she picked up the case file.
Bug nodded and picked it up after her. "When she was kidnapped by her ex-boyfriend as a favor to his ex- cell buddy." He shook his head. "You guys have been hanging around Nigel too long."
Jordan turned her back slightly to Bug, and ignored his outburst. "When exactly did Oliver get out of jail?"
Woody consulted his notes, "A week before the plane crash."
She began to pace as she thought. "So, he could have called Alfons, and then gone down to get her."
Bug was visibly upset. "We don't know that Alfons is involved in this in any way!"
"There's one way to find out."
Jordan had nearly made it out the door before Woody hauled her back into a rough embrace that served to purposes. He got to hug her, and she didn't go off and do something stupid.
She was relaxed in his arms, and her back pressed into his chest, so that he could feel the clasp of her bra through her soft shirt. She glanced up over her shoulder to look at him, smiling, but also confused. He groaned inwardly. How many times had he had to do this with Nigel?
Gently, he released her, but kept a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. He pointed at himself. "Cop." He said seriously. Then, trying to look stern but failing miserably, he pointed at the woman with suspicion dawning on her face. "Not cop." And he neatly dodged the half-hearted punch she threw at him.
Bug squeezed past them, and out of Trace. "Get a room."
Xxxxx
Alfons Dimmen was not a happy man. He had been arrested well after midnight at his home, and dragged down to the police station without so much as a by your leave. He still wasn't sure what he was being charged with, but given the amount of dope he'd had in his jeans, Jordan was sure he could hazard a guess.
As Jordan watched, he was brought into Interrogation, resisting each step he had to take, until he was finally thrust into the hard wooden chair by two thoroughly fed up policemen. Woody shifted beside her as he watched, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. Never once did she take her eyes off the surly German in the chair.
Woody pulled away from her, and through the door. Moments later he reappeared through the door behind Alfons. Jordan looked at the two of them for a moment and thought she could understand exactly what Abby saw in him. Alfons Dimmen was hot.
Even next to Woody's impeccably toned body, the German rippled with controlled power. Jordan surmised from his biceps that his abs must be divine. She noticed with the pleasure of having chosen the right man, that his eyes were nowhere near as blue as Woody's, instead they were a pale, watery blue that always appeared to be twitching slightly. He was well tanned, and his blond hair gave him a surfer-esque appearance. The impression of surfer only left Jordan when she looked down past crooked nose, and blunt chin, at the abstract tattoo on his neck.
She turned her attention back to the proceedings at hand. Woody was talking amiably; ignoring the glares he was receiving from the shackled Dimmen.
She watched as Woody pushed the picture of Abby across the table again. He was smiling, but his gaze was hard. "So you have no idea where she is?"
Alfons Dimmen sat back. "No! I told you, dammit. I haven't seen her since she ripped me off. If you find her, tell her I'm looking for her." He moved to spit on the floor, but something in Woody's stare told him not to.
Woody drew out another picture from the file under his arm and slammed it on the table. Dimmen didn't even flinch. But Woody seemed not to notice this unusual lack of reaction. "What do you know about him?" Jordan surmised the picture was of Oliver.
Dimmen pressed his lips together. Woody leaned down so his face was inches away from Dimmen's. "What do you know about him?"
Dimmen's nostrils flared. He leaned forward lazily, forcing Woody back, and looked lazily at the photo. "We were locked up together. Kid's crazy. Was still in there when I left. What, he get out?"
Woody stood up. "Yes. He's out. And killing. So why don't you tell me where he is?"
"What's in it for me?"
Woody lazily waved the evidence bag of drugs. "I'm sure we can work something out."
He gestured, and René Walcott strode into the room.
Xxxxx
In the other room, Jordan's phone rang.
"It's Oliver," Bug's voice told her. "He's awake finally. And he wants to see you. He doesn't want to see Dr. Macy. He said he wants a woman, and he wants you."
xxxxx