PAST MISTAKES
Woody was fuming. He'd just gotten out of a meeting with the DA, Renee Walcott, where she had royally dressed him down. It wasn't his fault that thing hadn't been going right with this case. No matter how he had probed and dug around lead were elusive and not forthcoming. Until now. And the answers all lay with a certain medical examiner. A very stubborn and infuriating medical examiner. As Woody shoved the door to the morgue open he almost hit Lily, the grief counselor with it.
"Hey, watch it, Detective!" she snapped at him.
"Is she here?" he demanded, not bothering to apologize.
Lily glared at him. "Is who here?"
"Jordan."
"I don't know. Today isn't my day to watch her," she responded icily and walked out the door he had just come in.
Woody blew out an exasperated breath and headed towards Jordan's office. Nigel Townsend came out of the Crypt and intercepted him.
"Woodrow! How the hell are you?"
"Not now, Nig. Where's your friend?" Woody asked his voice reflecting his anger.
Nigel rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. "Now that's rather hard to answer because I have a lot of friends and I don't know their whereabouts every minute of every day."
Woody's hands clenched as the urge to strike Nigel for being a smart ass almost won. Getting himself under control he said, "You know who I'm talking about. Jordan. Where is she? In her office?"
Nigel fidgeted under Woody's cobalt blue scrutiny. "I don't think so. I'm not really sure where she is," he lied and not very convincingly.
Again, Woody wanted to smack Nigel. He grabbed the front of Nigel's scrub shirt. "If you don't tell me where she is, I'm going to hurt you."
Nigel's mouth twitched and his dark blue eyes lit with mischief. "Haven't you ever heard of police brutality, Detective?"
"What is it with everyone calling me 'Detective' today? And yeah, I heard of it. How would you like to experience it first hand?"
To his credit, Nigel tried not to laugh at Woody. He struggled to hold back the laugh that was creeping its way up his throat, but to no avail. The mirth bubbled forth and he laughed in Woody's face.
Disgusted Woody pushed Nigel away roughly and strode towards Jordan's office with the sound of Nigel's laughter in his ears. As he rounded the corner to the hall that led to his destination Woody caught a fleeting glimpse of long jean-clad legs and flying dark hair.
"Oh no you don't, Jordan!" he yelled and started running after the fleeing figure.
He chased her all the way down the hall and into the foyer where the elevator was. He found her frantically pushing the buttons and swearing at the doors. He stopped and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Jordan."
Jordan ceased pushing the buttons and slowly turned around, her dark eyes large in her beautiful face. As he knew she would, Jordan put her hands in her back pocket and made her face into a defiant mask.
"What?"
Woody glanced away, trying to get his temper under control. He knew Jordan responded to anger with anger and he wanted answers, not an argument. When he looked back, he was struck again by how much he was attracted to her. His gut clenched with desire and he almost forgot why he was mad at her. Jordan had that affect on people.
Jordan on the other hand wanted to be anywhere but there. She thought what she was doing was for the right reasons, but hated it when Woody was mad at her. And if she looked at it from his point of view, he had every right to be. She just couldn't seem to help herself. She needed to follow through with things herself. It was hard to trust others to do what needed to be done. Even Woody. She watched him now, taking in the breadth of his shoulders and his long legs. Jordan liked it when he wore his hair spiky like it was now. Her fingers always itched to touch it. She was so lost in her thoughts that his voice surprised her.
"Jordan, what are you doing?"
Maybe she could humor him out of his mood. She smiled crookedly at him. "Trying to get on the elevator?"
He rolled his eyes. "That's not what I'm talking about and you know it. I'm talking about withholding information from me. Again." He allowed a little of his hurt to show on his face, knowing that was Jordan's weak spot.
Guilt crossed her features as Jordan pulled her hands out of her pockets and folded them across her flat stomach. She looked down at the floor and back up as he waited patiently for her to respond. As the silence grew, she became irritated. Who was he to tell her how to do her job anyway? And why did she care so much what he thought of her?
Woody could tell he was in for an argument despite trying to avoid one when her head came up and the light of battle shown in her coffee colored eyes. He braced himself for whatever might come.
Jordan started pacing, another bad sign. "You know why I didn't tell you about the second set of prints? I'll tell you."
Woody spread his hands in front of him. "Please do," he prodded.
"Because the person they belong to couldn't possibly have anything to do with the murder and I needed time-"
"What? You know who they belong to?" Woody spun around in the foyer in frustration. "You should be taken off the case if you have any personal relationship to it. You know that, Jordan. You're jeopardizing this investigation, not to mention the fact that you're putting my ass in the hot seat!" he yelled.
"Oh, so now it's all about you," she accused hotly. "I see that you're not even going to listen to me about this." She started jabbing the elevator buttons again. "Where the HELL is this piece of SHIT?!"
Woody grabbed her wrist and turned her around to face him again. He pulled her against him and she thought he was going to kiss her. Her breath quickened and her body prepared for it.
"Just give me a few hours to check something out, Woody, and then I'll tell you everything you need to know. I swear," she promised placing a hand on his hard, warm chest. She felt his heart speed up through the fabric of his white dress shirt.
His beautiful blue eyes bore into hers. Woody felt his anger leaving him and tried to hold onto it. His voice was deadly soft as he answered her, sending chills down her spine. "I'm going to go now and do my job. But I'll be back at four p.m. sharp and I expect your sweet ass to be in your office and you to be ready to spill your guts. And if you're not, I'll hunt you down and drag you to the DA so you can explain to her why you're obstructing justice. Are we clear on this?"
Jordan's mouth opened and closed without a sound coming out. She nodded dumbly and almost stumbled as he released her.
"Good. Four o'clock," he said and then proceeded to the door that led to the stairs.
Jordan leaned on the wall for support for a few moments, collecting herself. Then her mind kicked into gear. OK, she thought, it's nine-thirty now, so that gives me six and a half hours to find out what I need to. She realized she'd forgotten her purse and keys in her office in her haste to escape Woody. She was retrieving them from her desk when Nigel walked in.
"Not now, Nig," she said putting her hand up to ward him off. "I'm on a deadline here and I don't have time to chat."
"Ok, then I guess you don't want to know what I found out about the Moore case for you. I'll just come back later," he said and made to leave.
Jordan sprinted around the desk and caught his arm. "I was a little hasty, Nig. Come in, sit down. How are you?" she said placatingly.
Nigel smiled at her tactics. "I thought you'd change your tune. So how is Woody today?" he inquired, his smile broadening to a grin.
"Obviously you know how he was, so can we just get on with the info you have for me?"
He laughed and opened the file he'd brought with him. "Well, it just so happens that we have something more than just second prints at the seen, love."
"What do you mean?"
"Semen. We have a second specimen that doesn't match the suspect. So now we have two possible perps," he informed her.
Jordan closed her eyes a moment, fighting the disappointment that came over her. Opening them she asked, "So do you think it matches Tommy Wright? Is that what you're saying?"
"Well, that would be my assumption. His fingerprints are the second set. It's possible that he slept with her as well. Is he the type that would kill?"
"No! I mean, at least I never knew him to be violent." She put her hands over her face. "What a nightmare." She saw the clock on the wall. It read five minutes to ten now. "I have to go. Thanks for your help, Nigel. I owe you!" she told him as she snatched her purse and ran out the door.
Nigel followed at a more sedate pace. "And I'll collect, too!" he called after her.