On the way out of the building, I met Garret and Nigel coming in.  I should have known Garret would get the call on this one.  High profile case you want the top guy.  Nigel just looked at me, his eyes full of the questions he was afraid to ask.  Garret grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side of the building.

"Hoyt, what the hell happened here?"

"I don't know, Garret.  I don't know."

"Is. . .?"

"Jordan's alive.  And on her way to the precinct.  Malden drugged her with methylhexital and scotch, so she's pretty out of it."

"My God, she should be going to the hospital, not to interrogation!"

"I know, and if I had any say in the matter that's where she'd be going.  But I'm a witness."

"What?"

"I have to go and make a statement before Walcott has my ass for dinner.  I'll. . .I'll talk to you later, Garret."

And he went up the stairs to join Nigel in collecting what evidence they'd need from the scene.  I went to my car and got in, trying to figure out what to tell them when they questioned me.  The truth, I know.  But what is the truth?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the precinct's interrogation rooms. . . (three scenes, simultaneous)

Max. . .

Oh God, what has happened?  When did everything spiral out of control?  No need to ask that.  It's easy enough to find the answer.  Garret was right.  When I pulled Jordan into working the cases but provided her no answers about what happened to her mother.  I had my suspicions as to what happened.  But it's more than that.  It's the secrets I've been keeping from her.  I should have. . .  But should have's aren't going to do any of us any good now.

Jordan's eyes as they loaded her into the squad car. . .  As long as I live, I'll never forget that sight.  So full of emotion, even the effects of the methylhexital couldn't mask the pain that was there.  And I don't even know where she is right now.  One of the other rooms, I'm assuming, but who knows.  She should be at the hospital now.  If I'd come across anyone in a state like she was. . .but I'm not a cop anymore.  Now I'm a suspect in a murder.  Again.

I heard the door open and looked up to see District Attorney Renee Walcott enter the room.

"Give me a minute," she said to the officer who had been left in the room with me.  I just looked at her and braced myself for the questions I knew were coming.  "Mr. Cavanaugh, do you care to tell me what happened back there?"

"I don't have to say anything without a lawyer present.  I know my rights."

"Fine.  Suit yourself.  Things could go a lot easier if you'd talk, but. . ."

"Where's my daughter?"

"She's in a room down the hall."

"She should be in a hospital.  That bastard gave her methylhexital in scotch."

"So you say."

I was about to open my mouth and say something when the door opened and Eddie Winslow came in with one of their lab techs.  They had some test results.  Renee looked them over and turned to the officer.  "And you're sure that she's the one who was in the office?"

"Yes ma'am.  The officer at the desk specifically remembered her coming in and leaving with him.  Malden said she was sick and he was taking her home.  It's all in the record at the desk.  And the glass tests positive for methylhexital.  Actually, several of the glasses were coated with it.  And the prints on the glass match hers."

"And she's definitely under the influence of something.  It's been a while since I looked up specifics on that particular drug, but in the family combined with scotch, her actions do seem consistent."  Eddie looked at me as if to say, "I'm doing everything I can to help her."  I tried to muster a smile as I nodded at him.

"Alright.  Take her to Boston University Medical Center.  And keep an eye on her.  Just like any. . ."

"I won't leave her side.  I promise you."  I think the last part was as much for me as the first part was for Walcott.  Eddie was an alright guy when it came down to it, only doing what he had to do.

The thought crossed my mind that it could have been a set up, but I wasn't convinced that the D.A. was that good of an actress.  And I didn't think Eddie would go along with any kind of charade to make me talk. . .at least not since we'd worked things out and I'd forgiven him for what he did.  I looked up at Walcott. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet.  I'm not finished with you.  What can you tell me about Jeffers' murder."

"Nothing.  I swear to you I don't know anything about it.  If you look, I think that you'll find that I was in custody as a suspect in my wife's murder when he went missing."  She obviously hadn't finished going through my file because she immediately went back into the folder.  I saw her pause over something, then she closed the folder and looked at me.

"You're right.  I apologize for not having my facts straight.  But I'm a little confused as to how your gun ended up in the trunk of that car along with Jeffers' body."

"I had a gun that disappeared from my house that I reported missing as soon as I got to work on September 18.  Check the records."  She looked towards the glass that separated the interrogation room from the viewing room.  I supposed she was sending someone to do just that.

"Fine.  We'll look into it.  What about the prints we found on the gun?"

"Prints?"

"We found prints that don't seem to match any prints on file.  Any idea how that could have happened?"

I felt sick to my stomach.  I really had believed the gun was missing.  But now that I knew that James really had visited Emily the night before she died. . .  "Have you run them against the phantom print from my wife's murder scene?"

"The phantom print from. . .?"  And she was back in her files.  In a moment she produced two films of prints, one from some file she had with her and one from the Jeffers' file which had grown considerably in the past day and a half.  She passed them over each other and it was obvious to anyone with sight that they matched.  "And you're going to tell me that you have no idea how he got the gun?"

"I always believed it had disappeared.  That's why I reported it missing.  When I got home late on the night of September 17, Emily was upset.  She wouldn't tell me why.  I knew she hadn't felt safe for a while, but she was sick. . .she had psychological problems.  To try and make her feel better, I went to check the locked drawer where I kept the gun.  It wasn't there.  I searched everywhere for it, and asked Emily about it, but she swore to me that she knew nothing about it.  Now. . .  I know he went to visit her that night."

"Who?  Who went to visit your wife."

"James."

"Who is James?"

"He's. . .Emily and Malden's son."

"What?"

"She had an affair.  The child was born, and she let me believe that he was mine."

"And yet he didn't live with you."

"I. . .I came in from work one night and found her holding him under the water in the bathtub.  I pulled him from her hands and I panicked.  I didn't know what to do, but I knew it wasn't safe for him.  I. . .I gave him to a family I'd worked with the year before.  A couple whose son had been kidnapped and we later found the body.  They raised him as their own."

"And you never went back for him?"

"I couldn't tear him away from the happy family I saw whenever I went to try and take him home.  They were so happy together. . ."

"Alright.  We'll deal with that later.  So he went to visit your wife the night before she died?"

"I wasn't sure if I should believe her or not when she said he'd been there.  She. . .Emily wasn't always the most stable person.  But I've been in contact with him recently and he confirmed that he went to the house to visit her.  I can only assume that she gave him the gun."

"You do realize how hard this is going to be for you to prove.  How do we know that he even exists."

"At my bar, the Pogue Mahone.  On a table there, there's a file with all kinds of information on him.  I hired a private investigator a few years ago to find him.  I still believed that he was my son."

"Alright."  Another look towards the glass.  I knew that sent a car to the Pogue.  I only hoped that in running out, James hadn't found the bar and taken off with the file, or worse.  An officer knocked on the door and came in with the report I'd filed on my missing gun; signed, dated, and notarized at 7:30 a.m. on September 18, 1979.  "Alright.  You're off the hook for Jeffers.  For now.  Do you want to tell me what happened tonight?"

I wasn't sure I wanted to, but I didn't feel I had much of a choice.  "I was at my bar, looking over the case file from my wife's murder with Detective Hoyt.  He. . .he had gotten his hands on the phone records from the night before. Something I'd never been able to do.  That confirmed that Emily had talked with Malden the night before she died.  The night their son had visited her.  I got a call, I don't know who from, telling me that Jordan was in some kind of trouble at her apartment.  It was stupid, I know, because I'd been drinking, but I grabbed my gun and Detective Hoyt's keys and took off to Jordan's apartment."

"You took Detective Hoyt's keys?"

"He'd already followed me once today.  I didn't want him following me again. There was no need to put him at risk as well."

"Alright."  She made a note in her file; probably "we'll need to deal with this later," or something.  She looked back at me.  "What happened after that."

"I got to Jordan's apartment and heard a gunshot.  I opened the door and found James holding a gun on Malden, who was holding his stomach.  I tried to talk James down, but it wasn't working.  He wasn't listening to anyone.  I. . .I tried to pull the gun away from James and it went off.  But I swear to you, I did not pull the trigger."

Walcott just looked at me, trying to determine if I was the stupidest person she'd ever met or telling the truth.  About that time, the reports came back on the gun, and my hands.  Surprisingly, Renee read the results out loud. The gun had been fired four times recently.  Obviously from close range as there were microscopic drops of blood on it.  There were traces of powder residue found on me, but they weren't consistent with me having fired the gun.  She put the file down and looked at me.  I was amazed to hear her voice soften a bit.  "And where was Jordan while all this was going on?"

"She was in the apartment.  We, Detective Hoyt and I, found her at the end of her loft close to the bathroom.  She wasn't aware of what had happened.  We both thought she might have been shot in the struggle, but there were no entry or exit wounds.  She told us she'd gone to talk to Malden to get some answers about her mother's murder."

"She thinks he did it?"

"I don't know.  I think there's the possibility that he is involved somehow, but I don't know how and I'm not making accusations."

"I understand."

"She said that he'd given her methylhexital in scotch and made her take him to James.  James was staying in her apartment.  I don't know what the story is there."

"Alright."  Walcott paced to the end of the room.  "Based on what we have here, I can't hold you.  But I will ask you not to leave town, Mr. Cavanaugh."

"Alright.  I can do that."  As she opened the door to let me out, Woody walked by, apparently finished with his interrogation.

"Max?  Is everything. . .?"

"He's free to go for now.  I have advised him to stay in town for the foreseeable future."  Walcott turned down another hallway, muttering something about "finding the damn driver," and leaving Woody and me standing there.

"Where's Jordan?"

"Walcott finally agreed to let Eddie Winslow take her to the hospital.  She's at Boston University Medical Center."

"I'll drive us.  That is, if that's. . ."

"Thanks Woody.  I'd appreciate that."

********************

Jordan. . .

How the hell do they think I can tell them anything?  I can barely even think straight enough to put these thoughts together.  Oh great, the door's opening.

"Jordan?"  I looked up to see Eddie Winslow walk into the room.  Great.

"Hey Eddie."

"What's going on?  Why are you here?"

"You mean that file in your hand doesn't tell you anything?"  Wow.  A whole sentence.  Wait, I'm spinning.

"No, I mean, what's wrong.  You look like hell."

"Methylhexital.  And scotch.  Thanks to your late Chief."

"Malden drugged you?"

"Yep."

Eddie walked over to the phone.  "I need someone to go to Malden's office and get a glass that. . .  You've already got it?  How?  Oh, I see.  Well, I have the person who most likely ingested the drug in Interrogation 4, and if that's the case, we've got to get her to the hospital.  Let me know ASAP.  Thanks."

"Ok Jordan.  Just sit tight.  Seems Woody Hoyt already told them about the glass and it's in the lab now.  They're working on it."

"Ok."  Things are getting fuzzy.  Yeah ~ I'm definitely spinning.  Or the room is.

Eddie. . .

Shit!  Why the hell didn't they take her straight to the hospital?  I don't care what the accusation is, you can keep someone in custody at the hospital.  It's obvious that something's wrong with her.

"Jordan?  Jordan, come on.  Stay with me."  I'm losing her here.  Screw Walcott's orders.  "We're going to need paramedics and an ambulance here now!  Interrogation 4.  Thank you.  Jordan?  Come on, don't fade out on me.  They're sending help right now."  I heard a knock on the door and just yelled for them to come in.  There was no way I was going to let her fall out of the chair.  It was the lab report.  That s.o.b. really did it ~ methylhexital and scotch.  Shit!

I heard the sounds of a gurney being pushed through the hall, so I sent the uniform out to flag them down.  As soon as they had Jordan and I'd filled them in on what I knew and they were getting her ready for transport, I grabbed the uniform and the lab report and headed down the hall to Interrogation 2, where I knew Renee Walcott was questioning Max.

We knocked on the door, and Walcott opened it.  We stepped just inside and gave her the report.  She looked them over and turned to the officer.  "And you're sure that she's the one who was in the office?"

"Yes ma'am.  The officer at the desk specifically remembered her coming in and leaving with him.  Malden said she was sick and he was taking her home.  It's all in the record at the desk.  And the glass tests positive for methylhexital.  Actually, several of the glasses were coated with it.  And the prints on the glass match hers."

"And she's definitely under the influence of something.  It's been a while since I looked up specifics on that particular drug, but in the family combined with scotch, her actions do seem consistent with the combo."  I looked at Max, trying to make him see that I was doing all I could to help Jordan ~ and him.  I knew there was so much history between us he had no reason to trust me, but taking care of Jordan was something I could do right.

Walcott snapped the folder shut. "Alright.  Take her to Boston University Medical Center.  And keep an eye on her.  Just like any. . ."

"The paramedics are already getting her ready for transport.  I won't leave her side.  I promise you."  Renee's eyes flared when I said that the paramedics were already on scene, but as the questioning officer, it was well within my jurisdiction to determine if the suspect needed medical attention.  I added the last part more for Max than for Walcott.  I think he understood.

I went back to the room and found that they already had Jordan strapped onto the gurney and hooked up to oxygen and an IV.  One of the paramedics looked at me.  "It's just fluid, trying to flush that crap out of her system."

"Ok.  We're going to BUMC."  Jordan was trying to look at me, trying to say something, but her eyes weren't focusing, and her mouth wasn't working.  "It's ok, Jordan.  Everything's going to be fine."

We got loaded into the ambulance and one of the squad cars agreed to follow us and headed for the hospital.  They said that since it was all liquid, it was probably spread throughout her system already, but they pumped her stomach just to make sure.  And kept her hooked up to the IV.

Once we knew what was going on, I called Walcott to let her know.  She told me she was about finished with Max and it looked like he was cleared, but she was advising him to stay in town.  I asked her about the charges against Jordan and she said that the gun had been turned in, and in this case it could result in bad press all around, so she was prepared to overlook it this time.  I thanked her and went back inside.

I told the uniforms that Walcott said the charges were being dropped and they were free to go.  So she hadn't authorized the last part.  I knew there was no way Jordan could have fired any type of gun in the state she was in, so I made a judgment call.  If it came back to bite me in the butt, so be it. 

They moved Jordan into a small room in a back corner of the ER so they could keep an eye on her vitals.  I pulled a chair up next to her bed.  Even with the hell she'd been through tonight she looked good.  I always thought she looked good.  But first Max was all, "my daughter's not going to get involved with a cop" and then there was everything that happened with IAD and. . .  Water under the bridge.  I still had to ask her a few questions.  I tried to convince myself that's why I stayed.

After about an hour, Jordan started to come around.  "Where am I?"

"Hey!  There you are.  We brought you to the hospital.  You were really out of it and you needed more help than we could give you at the precinct."

"And let me guess.  You're here because I'm still under arrest?"

"I just need to ask you some questions, Jordan.  Do you feel up to answering some of them?"

"I'll try."

"Ok.  Let's start with recent things.  What happened tonight?  Why were you in Malden's office and why was he at your apartment?"

"I went to see him to find out about what happened to my mother."

"Why do you think that he knew. . .?"

"He and my mother had an affair about 8 years before I was born.  I have an older half-brother.  Malden's his father."

"Ok."

"James, that's his name, went to visit Mom the night before she died.  I was at Kim's working on a school project, so that's why I never knew about it.  Mom called Malden later that night.  Then she ended up dead the next day."

"But why do you think that. . .?"

"Mom gave James the gun Dad kept at home. She thought he was in danger.  He said that a few days after that, Jeffers came to kill him.  He said he shot Jeffers in self-defense."

"So that's how Jeffers ties into this.  Ok.  Things are starting to fall together."

"James came to see me yesterday afternoon.  He said people were after him and wanted to kill him.  He wanted to stay in my apartment for a few days.  I wanted to believe him, so I said ok."

"And then you went to see Malden?"

"After I went to Dad's bar.  He and Woody were looking at Mom's case file and that's where Dad put everything together.  The phone records were never there before.  Malden kept them out."

"Because of the phone call."

"Yeah.  I guess he didn't want anyone to know he was a giant screw up.  He gave me a scotch and then told me some stuff I really didn't care about, and then asked me where James was.  I knew ~or I thought ~ he wanted to hurt James, and so I said I wasn't telling.  That's when he told me that there was methylhexital mixed in with the scotch.  The next thing I knew we were at my apartment and James and Malden were fighting over a gun."

"James and Malden?  Just them?  Not your father too?"

"No.  Not at first.  There were a couple of shots fired and I went to hide in the bathroom.  Out of sight, hopefully out of Malden's mind.  James was trying to protect me."

"Ok.  So when did Max get there?"

"After the first two shots.  I didn't know who was hit.  I heard Dad come in the apartment yelling for me, and then he was arguing with James and/or Malden.  I couldn't see what was going on.  I heard two more shots.  And then Woody came in."

"Anything else?"

"No.  I think they had a stand off for a minute.  Then I heard Woody grunt and footsteps running down the hall.  I heard Dad and Woody talking.  I didn't know who was shot.  If it was James or Malden.  I tried to stand up and walk into the apartment.  That's when they found me."

"Ok."

"Then Woody called things in and they came and took us away.  Where's Dad?"

"He's still at the precinct.  The D.A.'s handling his questioning."

"Great."

"It's ok.  If what you heard squares with what he tells her, things will be ok."

"You don't know how much she hates me.  I don't know why, but she does."

"Jordan. . .  Can I see your hands?"

"Why?"

"Just. . .thanks."  Thank God.  At least she didn't fire the gun.  "Ok.  Good.  No powder residue.  I just needed to make sure that. . ."

"Nope.  Haven't touched a gun all day."

"Alright.  I need to step outside and make a phone call.  You stay put."

"Ok."

So I went outside and again called Walcott to see what was up.  She confirmed that Max had indeed been released with the caveat that he not leave town.  He and Woody Hoyt were on the way to the hospital as we spoke.  I went back into Jordan's room.  For my own peace of mind, I needed to know something else.

"Jordan?  Why did you take the gun from Jeffers' scene?"

"I thought I could get some answers from it.  How do you. . .?"

"The new guy, Peter, turned it in when he figured out what it was."

"Remind me to kick his butt later.  By the way, are the two of you related?"

"What?"

"His last name is Winslow too."

"Oh.  No.  We're not.  At least not that I'm aware of.  But because he turned it in, Walcott's not going to press obstruction charges against you."

"So what does that mean?"

"When they release you, you're free to go."

"Oh.  So why are you here?"

"I needed to ask you a few questions.  Just to make sure things squared."

"Oh.  Ok.  Well, you can leave if you want since I'm not under arrest anymore."

"If it's ok, I think I'll stay until your dad gets here."

"I'd like that, Eddie.  Thanks."

**************************

Woody. . .

Great.  This is just great!  Why for once can't I fall for a normal, non-affiliated with a cop girl?  Just when I was about to actually think there might be a chance for Jordan and me this happens.  I mean, sure, there still could, but given everything that's just happened.  I couldn't read her look when she left.  I don't know if she really understood that I do want to help her however I can.  Shit.

"Detective Hoyt?  I'm Carl Michaelson from Internal Affairs.  Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Great.  Internal Affairs.  "No, no problem.  But can you do something for me first?"

"What?"

"There's a glass on Malden's desk with a little bit of scotch and most likely methylhexital in it.  Can we get it tested for the drug?  And printed?"

"Any particular prints?"

"I'm thinking they're going to match Jordan Cavanaugh."

"She's in Interrogation 4."

"If she ingested that drug, she should be in the hospital."

"You're right.  One moment."  He picked up the phone and spoke to someone, relating everything I'd said.  "Ok.  How did you come to be at Jordan Cavanaugh's residence this evening?"

"Jordan and I are friends.  I guess you know that she works in the M.E.'s office.  We've worked together on cases before."

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

"She's been searching for her mother's murderer for the past 23 years.  I don't know exactly all the details, but some of the clues led her to the trunk of the car where Jeffers' body was found.  She was in deep.  I was trying to help her.  I. . .I know it wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done.  I went to talk with her father a couple of times tonight.  I thought maybe he could help her."

"And what happened?"

"The first time, I followed him to an apartment.  It's in the name of a James Horton.  Max thought James was his son until January.  I'm not clear on the rest of that story.  But he's actually Malden's son."

"Ok.  And the other time?"

"I went back to Max's bar after I'd found out some information on the IAD investigation of Malden that ended after Jeffers went missing and Max wouldn't talk.  I also got the case file on Max's wife along with some phone records that had been kept out of the file."

"Why?"

"Why had they been kept out?  I can only guess because Emily Cavanaugh had called to talk with Malden the night before she died."

"Alright."

"While I was there with that information, Max got a phone call ~ I don't know from whom.  He started to get upset and left.  He took my keys to keep me from following him.  But I had a spare key in my wallet.  The first place I came was here to Malden's office. He wasn't there, but dispatch located his driver ~ right in front of Jordan's apartment.  There was a glass with lipstick on it.  I assumed that Jordan had somehow put things together and had gone to confront him.  When dispatch gave me the location of Malden's car, I went straight over there to make sure Jordan was ok."

"And what happened when you got there?"

"The elevator seemed to be stuck, so I ran up the stairs to the third floor.  As I was coming out of the stairwell, I heard two gunshots.  I was worried for Jordan's safety, so I kicked in the door.  I saw. . .I saw Max Cavanaugh standing over Malden's body, holding a gun.  It looked like Max was in shock.  He turned towards me, and I thought for a minute he was going to shoot himself or me.  Finally he lowered the gun and dropped it on the ground.  Someone, probably Malden's son James, hit me on the head with a baseball bat and ran out.  We tried to find Jordan, and she was obviously under the influence of something.  I called it in.  And here we are."

"Alright.  Do you have any clue where the driver might be now?"

"No sir.  He was there when I got to Jordan's apartment.  But the car was nowhere to be seen when I came out."

"Ok.  I've got what I need right now.  Let's go and see what the lab reports are."

So we went to the lab where they told us they'd already confirmed that the glass had Jordan's prints on it and had methylhexital in it.  Eddie Winslow, her questioning officer, went to BUMC with her.

I went to check and see how Max's interrogation was going.  Thankfully Walcott didn't figure out that I was in the observation room.  It wasn't pretty, but things were looking a little better than they seemed when I went into Jordan's apartment.  When I saw that Renee was about to give Max the "don't leave town" speech, I went out of the room and down the hall so it wouldn't be obvious I'd been in observation.

He came out and Walcott confirmed that he could leave the precinct.  Max said that Winslow had gone with Jordan to BUMC and I offered to drive us.  Max agreed, so we went to get in my car.

It was an awkward drive.  Max wasn't in the mood to talk with me about things, and I wasn't sure what to say.  I knew we were both worried as hell about Jordan, so we did make some small talk about hoping that she was ok.  Soon enough we were there.

We walked in, and Max asked about her at the desk.  They pointed us down the hall to a small room towards the back of the ER.  We walked down the hall and stopped outside the door.  Through the window, I could see Eddie Winslow sitting in a chair next to Jordan's bed. It looked like he was holding her hand.  And she was definitely laughing.  Involuntarily I tensed up.

"It's ok, Hoyt.  Eddie was my last partner.  He and Jordan have known each other for a while."

"Oh."

"But I don't think you have anything to worry about.  From him anyway."

"What?"

"Jordan's got a long memory and isn't likely to take up with the person who turned her dad in."

"No, I meant. . ."

"Now, if what she said at her apartment is true. . ."

"Um, sir, I. . .uh. . ."

"Relax.  She's a big girl.  Now, do you want to go in and see her, or are you going to let him stay there?"

"Good point.  Let's go."

We went in, and Jordan looked so relieved to see Max ok ~ and not in jail.  He explained that he's not going on vacation anytime soon, but things were ok.  Eddie confirmed that Jordan was free to go once the hospital released her.  He said he'd see us later and left.

Shortly after he left, the doctor came in and began the process to release Jordan from the hospital.  Max and I looked at each other.  We hadn't though of what to do now.

"Jordan, sweetheart, your apartment is a crime scene right now.  You can't go back there until it's been cleared and cleaned."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"If you want. . ."

"Dad?  No offense, but I don't want to go home tonight."

"Alright, sweetheart.  I understand.  But where will you go?"

"I don't know."

I couldn't just sit by.  I wasn't going to take advantage of anything, but. . .  "Jordan?  If you want, I've got a bed and a sofa bed.  You can come to my place.  I'll take the sofa bed."

"Well, I. . ."

"I promise.  No funny stuff."

"Alright.  Dad?  Is it ok with you?"

"It's fine, baby.  You need to be with a friend right now."

The orderly came in with Jordan's clothes and the release papers from the doctor.  Max and I left so that Jordan could get changed, then we left.  Since Max had been taken to the station in the squad car, we dropped him off at his house, then drove to my apartment.

"Here we are.  I'll show you where the bedroom is, and you can borrow a t-shirt to sleep in."

"Thanks Woody.  I mean that."

"It's not a problem Jordan.  I'm glad I'm able to do it."

"Is there a chance I could get a bath?"

"Sure.  I'll set some towels out for you."

Jordan ran a bath and disappeared into the bathroom to soak for a while.  I tried not to think about what was on the other side of the closed bathroom door while I made up the sofa bed.  I meant what I said.  I was not going to take advantage of the situation.  After about half an hour, Jordan came out of the bathroom wearing one of my t-shirts.  She said good night and headed to the bedroom.  I'd just gotten settled into the sofa bed when I heard footsteps pad down the short hall.  I looked up and saw Jordan standing in the room, leaned up against the wall.  Her cheeks looked wet, like she'd been crying.

"Woody?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm scared."