When we returned from the store, I opened the door of my apartment and
stood there as Woody struggled with all his supplies.
"Are you sure you don't need any help?" I asked as he shuffled around the various bags.
"No, no I'm fine... you could get out of the way though."
I jumped to one side when I realized I was standing in the middle of the doorway.
"I still don't think we need all this." He hustled into the room and deposited everything on the counter.
"We've been through this Jordan..." He wasn't looking at me, because he was standing there with his hands on his hips studying the blood stain on my floor like it was something that had just crawled out of his nightmares. Maybe it had.
I picked up the belt sander that he had just laid on the countertop. I told him while we were at the store a good strong mixture of ammonia and water would probably lift the blood right up, but he was dead set on renting the sander, just in case. I began to unpack the shopping sacks one by one. Sandpaper, paint brushes, cleaning fluid, wood stain, floor wax, something called "Zar"......
"Jordan?"
"What?"
"I just asked if you could get me a bucket of water....are you ok? We can do this later if you want."
I smiled sadly at the concerned look on his face. Funny, there was a new worry line between his eyes that I hadn't noticed before.
"No, the sooner we get this started you can install the new deadbolt."
I held the packaged lock up with a smirk. By the look on his face I could tell he was remembering the...discussion we had earlier at the hardware store. As soon as we had arrived at the store he led me directly over to the home security systems. He was adamant that I get one. I didn't see the need when a new dead bolt would suffice. He just said it was necessary. I took one look at the display and realized even with all my schooling I would still need a degree in engineering to learn how to operate one of the stupid things. We grudgingly compromised; I would think about it and he would buy the best lock system in the store.
I found my mop bucket under the sink and filled it. Before I took it over to him I made a detour to the refrigerator and grabbed a couple bottles of water. I almost grabbed a couple of beers instead, thinking we would need a little fortification for our first home improvement project together, but I left those for an emergency.
The emergency didn't take long...
Four hours and two beers later Woody pointed a frustrated finger at the door and kicked me out. I figured it as a good time to go for a walk. Sometimes togetherness can be overrated, especially when power tools are involved. I was halfway out the building when I pulled out Woody's cell phone I had palmed from the counter. Mine was still missing with Malden's car. I wanted to call Garrett, without Woody standing over my shoulder. I dialed Garrett's line.
"Woody... sorry, I just got your messages about a half-hour ago. Has today been any better for ........"
"Me?...." I cut him off. At first I wondered how Garrett recognized it was Woody's cell phone number on his caller ID. As far as I knew Woody had never called Garrett's direct line. But apparently Woody had been talking to him and by the sounds of it, with quite some frequently, over the last few days. It made me wonder what all I had missed.
"Jordan!" he choked out. I had to smile at his ill at ease. He was quick to regroup. "It's good to hear your voice Jordan." Hearing his reminded me that there still was a world out there. I should have called him yesterday to thank him for giving me those reports.
"Garrett, I wanted to say thank you..."
"No need, Jordan. I knew Nigel was going to get those reports to you somehow anyway. I was just saving myself the trouble of being the last to know."
I laughed to myself as I felt eyes begin to water up. I didn't think I could possibly have any tears left. I squeezed my eyes tight to make them go away. I was cried out for awhile, even if they were just happy tears of relief.
"Hey, has Walcott called off her dogs yet? Can I come back to work?"
The line was silent for a minute I thought maybe we had been disconnected.
"Are you sure Jordan? If you need more t..."
"Yeah, I'm sure."
Knowing Garrett I could see him searching for an excuse to keep me out of there. Apparently Malden and Cahill were still in the building...Yes, it bothered me, but not as much as I thought it would have.
"....Well?"
I felt him give up and lean back in his chair. "Fine. We could use your help. Things have been busy here, being short handed."
"Great, I'll see you first thing!"
"See you in the morning Jordan...and Jordan?"
"Yes?"
"Welcome back." As I hung up I knew he realized I was over the worst of it...even though I was just figuring out that fact for myself.
When I returned awhile later, Woody was finishing up installing the new lock. He proudly showed me his work.
"See, cowboy, you don't even need to memorize a code."
With a long suffering sigh he handed me the keys. I tossed them up and down in my hand. As lay landed in my palm I noticed that there was two identical keys lying there. I pull one of the keys off the ring and tossed it to him. He caught it in midair with a curious look on his face.
"So you don't have to kick my door in again." I felt a tingling in my stomach as his face changed. His eyes became all dark and smoky. I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around him and held him close. He laid his cheek on the top of my head. I stood there listening to his heartbeat. So sure, so strong, so assuasive...calming. Twelve hours ago this closeness, this intimacy, had sent me running for the hills. Now all I wanted to do was relish in it.
"Jordan?"
"...humm?"
"I still have to finish up here...."
I turned away from him my feet walking on air.
"Watch out Jordan the floor's still wet."
I stumbled slightly as I stopped myself from stepping into the middle of the newly refinished area on my floor. I looked down at it, amazed that for a second that I had almost forgot about it even being there. Almost. It had a lighter, newer finish that didn't quite blend in with the rest of the floor. Woody stepped up in back of me and sat heavily on the stool next to the counter.
"It will do for now but we're going to have to refinish the whole thing to get it the entire floor to match..." he sounded drained.
I looked over at him; his jaw twitched. I knew he was remembering why the stain was there in the first place. I laid my hand on his cheek to get his attention on me.
"It'll be fine." When he finally nodded in agreement I stepped around the wide, sticky spot and grabbed a couple of beers out of the refrigerator and handed him one and jumped up on the countertop to sit next to him. Playing with the label on my bottle I watched as he took a drink out of his.... his eyes constantly darted at the floor.
I cleared my throat and said, "By the way, I talked to Garrett today. You've been keeping him posted..." He looked at me shocked for a moment and then he just nodded. "Through all of this you've been quietly keeping everything under control, haven't you?"
"Some control." he muttered into his bottle before he set it down on the counter.
My eyebrows shot up in question. He was looking over at the front door. At first I thought he was thinking about our argument over Eddie. But then it dawned on me. I was so worried about how my father, hell.... about how I would handle coming back here.
But I never once thought about how Woody would take it.
He had been so busy the last few days keeping me sane and putting out all the little fires in our path, he hadn't had a chance to deal with all this himself. That was the reason he wanted the security system and the reason he ground a good half an inch off my hardwood floor. The ghosts in the room were now his.
I put my hand on his shoulder. He reached up and covered it with his own.
"You're an imposter, you know." I whispered.
His head snapped up to look at me. "What?"
"That whole country bumpkin, boy scout routine.... It's all an act you spring on unsuspecting people."
He let out a self-conscience chuckle "What makes you say that?"
"That big 'S' you have tattooed across your chest. It bleeds through your shirt every once in a while."
"You won't tell anyone will you?" He said with a smile that never quite reached his eyes.
"Your secret is safe with me." I turned my hand to interweave our fingers. It was time for me to be the strong one; to be the one to pull us out to safety. He must have realized it because he began to speak. At first the words were hollow, like he was talking about someone else...
But soon the flood gates opened.
"....When I heard the shots I panicked I kicked open the door and Max was standing over Malden. I'm a cop damn it and I didn't know what to do........"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile....
Eddie---
I normally don't drink. But the last few days could drive a man to find an escape in the bottom of a bottle. As it was, I felt like a man who has fallen off the wagon walking into Max's Place. I don't venture there as often as I probably could. The invitation has always been there...but the emotional baggage is an addiction I could never seem to shake no matter what I tell myself or others.
I sat down at the bar and acknowledged Max's welcome. I ordered a whiskey. I needed to warm a glass of it in my hands. Funny, I never developed the taste for it until after I met her. The color haunting because it matches her eyes so well. I passed the next few minutes talking to the man whose life I turned inside out all because of some self-centered notion of righteousness. As he clapped my shoulder and walked away, I thought about how close I came today. It would have been so easy to forget about Max, about Hoyt, about the very reason why I should remain distanced. How did I put it? 'Without all the entanglements everyone else seems to provide for you.' I said it more for my own benefit than hers... Because, it was all right there in those beautiful whiskey colored eyes. That look ...THE look... That look I had waited for from the first time I saw her face.
Only the look wasn't there because of me.
I knew then, without a shadow of a doubt she was going to remain only an allusive dream. Hoyt's a lucky man. I just hope he realized how lucky. I tossed the drink back relishing in the feel of the burn in the back of my throat. Its warmth started in my gut and spread upwards and outwards making me well aware of its presence. I couldn't help but smile at the irony. It was time to get myself seated firmly back on the wagon. I wrapped my hands around the glass one more time before I set it back on the bar. It was time to go. To carry on as usual I threw a twenty on the bar as I waved good night to Max. I walked out the door and looked at my watch ...ten after eight. I could always go back to the office, but maybe not. Tomorrow was going to be just another day. Hopefully, a quieter one.
~~~~~~~~~~
Garrett---
I looked at my watch...I had twenty minutes before the funeral home came for Patrick Cahill's body. Captain Malden's body was picked up a few hours ago. The quicker they were all out of here the more comfortable I would feel. Jordan was coming back to work tomorrow and frankly I didn't want her to have to deal with either of them. I knew at this point I had had my fill of them.
What a mess. What a colossal mess.
There was something more to these murders then meets the eye. Anyone could see that. Just two hours ago on the six o'clock news the police announced that they believed the murders were totally unrelated. Bullshit. Cahill was murdered with Malden's own service pistol! But somehow the evidence mysteriously disappeared in transit to the DA's office. If Renee's reaction to the media's questioning at the latest press conference was any indication she was just as frustrated as I was. I should call her and give her my support, but she'd probably just hang up.
Deservedly so. She was right; this was where it starts. So be it.
I picked up a copy of the incoming log. With the whole staff working exclusively on the two homicides the last three days, there was a backlog. Thank God things would be back to normal in the morning...As normal as they could be around here.
~~~~~~~~~~
Renee---
"Where is that elevator?"
I mashed the button a few more times just to make sure I had called it. Giving up I collected my belongings and made my way to the stairwell. I looked at the clock hanging on the wall before I grabbed the fire door; eight-ten... I could still get a few more hours of work in.
I precariously balanced my fourth cup of coffee in the last two hours on the stack of files I was carrying. For the last 72 hours coffee was all I lived on. As I began to walk up the stairs, I wished I had those hours back to live over again.
Things would be different.
Finding Garrett Macy in a lip lock with a woman almost half his age was actually the highlight. It went straight down hill from there.
Tom Malden and Patrick Cahill. The murders were obviously related, any first year investigator could see that. The press certainly did. I should know; I spent the better part of the last few days dealing with the vultures.
Why were we hitting walls everywhere in the investigation? I felt the lukewarm wetness of my coffee as it splashed over the top of the styrofoam cup and onto my new white silk blouse. "Great" I muttered. A young legal aide making his way down the stairs in front of me wisely gave me a wide berth. I had a damn building full of people and I couldn't even connect the murders to Kevin Cahill or one of the other crime lords in town. And then there was this James Horton, whoever the hell he is.
Someone was covering the tracks of these murders faster then the police could uncover them. Unfortunately, I had a feeling some of those people were in my very own office. With a deep sigh I pushed open the heavy fire door to my floor. Taking a big gulp of the coffee left in the cup I braced myself for another long night.
~~~~~~~~~~
Kevin Cahill---
I lit a fresh Havana, and watched the smoke as it rose into the air. I glanced at the clock sitting on the corner of my desk...ten after eight... a fine time to relax. Damage control was going smoother than I thought it would. My contacts in the statehouse assured me that this would all blow over quickly. A week ago everything had been going so perfectly... all according to plan. .If it weren't for that egocentric by-blow of mine not thinking and getting himself shot, things would have been seamless. But then again, there was Malden... that jackass. Why couldn't have he just follow instructions? His job was simple; keep the law busy, make sure his mistress's son was dead and then die himself at the hands of Max Cavanaugh.
Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh was not to be harmed in anyway. My instructions were very clear on that point.
She was so delightfully easy to manipulate...so predicable...just like her old man. I needed her tucked safely away in her downtown office until it was time to use her again.
Malden did complete one of his tasks efficiently. He verified a very useful piece of information.
Detective Woodrow Hoyt.
The kid was green, had ambition and didn't seem to mind 'bending' the rules when it suited him. He could be very useful someday. And if the reports I have heard on his movements the last week were true...he had a definite Achilles' heel. I love it when things were so nice and tidy. Too many players on the field could be too difficult to control. Patrick proved that.
I poured myself a measure of brandy and raised it in salute to Jordan Cavanaugh's good health.
~~~~~~~~~~
Max---
I waved good night to Eddie as he walked though the thin crowd and out the door. It was only then that I noticed the twenty he had left on the bar. I put the bill in my pocket to give back to him the next time he came in. I told him that his drinks were on me because of all he had done to help Jordan that first night.
That horrible night.
Sweet Mother of Jesus, I felt like I did that September day so many years ago watching them lead her out of her apartment and into the squad car. It was so much like when I watched helplessly as Tom Malden took my baby girl's hand and walked out of her home....I didn't know if I would see her alive again. That same look was in her eyes; pleading for me to tell her this was all a mistake. Say it wasn't so. It was all a bad dream. Make it end Daddy. Then, just as she was being helped into the back seat of the car, there was the awful comprehension....
In just one split second her world had been changed forever...yet again.
I refilled my coffee cup and found a seat. I needed to sit down. The last few days have tapped my strength. Thank God my baby had Woody. He has been her strength. Something she has needed for the last 23 years. Something I never could be to her.
~~~~~~~~~~
James---
I sat in a truck stop waiting for my next ride. Hitch hiking was never safe but the alternative was even more dangerous. Getting across the Canadian border was easier than I thought it would be. I patted my pocket to make sure my father's gun was still there. Damn, what a keepsake to remember your father by.
The gun he was going to kill you with.
I carefully pulled out the photo from my coat pocket. The one I had taken from Jordan's apartment. I set it on the table and looked at the young, happy mother and daughter in it. I ran my fingers over their faces. I lingered on the face of the pretty little girl and prayed she was safe and sound.
"Can I get you another cup of coffee." The waitress's voice made me jump. Lately everything made me jump.
"No, thank you" I couldn't help but notice her looking at the picture.
"Your family? She asked. I only nodded and quickly tucked the photo back into my pocket.
Before she could walk away I asked her the time. I had no idea how many time zones I had traveled through in the last 72 hours. My watch was still on Boston time...eight-ten
"About ten after five, honey"
As she went to the next booth I threw a bill on the table. It was time to move on. Stay one step ahead of the pack of hungry animals that I knew were following close on my trail. It was a life that I was use to. Only this time I felt like there was something behind me that wasn't full of darkness.....someone behind me that I would miss. I stepped out into the temperate air thankful for the slight breeze that kept the black flies at bay. Once at the highway I pointed my thumb northwards. I had a long trip ahead of me before I could rest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Woody and I talked for hours. We both shed a few tears and shared a few laughs. This new found intimacy was not a bad thing. While he was shedding some of his pain I felt some of mine own lift. A little after eight he stood up from the stool and stretched saying his back would never be the same after having slept on the sofa bed for two nights.
He kissed my lips softy and walked out the door. I closed the door quietly behind him. I put my fingers to my lips with a grin. I knew he was waiting in the hallway to hear me throw the new deadbolt.
Suddenly I realized there was this unexpected but welcomed byproduct of knowing he was just outside my door. Home was a safe place. Yes, it may still have the lingering scent of finger print powder and the floor may never be the same...but it was safe.
I leaned against the door and traced a heart with my fingertip on its surface. That big red door, once like the walls of Jericho- 25 feet high 20 feet thick...Never being able to stop the fears of the one who lived behind it. Now was just a plain old door. That big red door, so like the color of my heart. It no longer had its ramparts because they had been taken down not by force, but by lots of persistence, a little music, and....I thought with a smile...a bit of shouting.
"Jordan?" I heard his voice from the hallway.
"Yes?"
"Lock your door...."
I turned the deadbolt with a decided click. I waited there leaning against the door, listening for the sounds of the elevator doors closing. I jumped when I heard his voice so close to my ear...so close, I could have sworn I felt his breath....
"Good night Jordan.....I love you."
As I heard his footsteps echoing down the hall, I wrapped my arms around my waist and tucked the words easily inside my heart.
"Good night.....farm boy." I whispered.
The End
"Are you sure you don't need any help?" I asked as he shuffled around the various bags.
"No, no I'm fine... you could get out of the way though."
I jumped to one side when I realized I was standing in the middle of the doorway.
"I still don't think we need all this." He hustled into the room and deposited everything on the counter.
"We've been through this Jordan..." He wasn't looking at me, because he was standing there with his hands on his hips studying the blood stain on my floor like it was something that had just crawled out of his nightmares. Maybe it had.
I picked up the belt sander that he had just laid on the countertop. I told him while we were at the store a good strong mixture of ammonia and water would probably lift the blood right up, but he was dead set on renting the sander, just in case. I began to unpack the shopping sacks one by one. Sandpaper, paint brushes, cleaning fluid, wood stain, floor wax, something called "Zar"......
"Jordan?"
"What?"
"I just asked if you could get me a bucket of water....are you ok? We can do this later if you want."
I smiled sadly at the concerned look on his face. Funny, there was a new worry line between his eyes that I hadn't noticed before.
"No, the sooner we get this started you can install the new deadbolt."
I held the packaged lock up with a smirk. By the look on his face I could tell he was remembering the...discussion we had earlier at the hardware store. As soon as we had arrived at the store he led me directly over to the home security systems. He was adamant that I get one. I didn't see the need when a new dead bolt would suffice. He just said it was necessary. I took one look at the display and realized even with all my schooling I would still need a degree in engineering to learn how to operate one of the stupid things. We grudgingly compromised; I would think about it and he would buy the best lock system in the store.
I found my mop bucket under the sink and filled it. Before I took it over to him I made a detour to the refrigerator and grabbed a couple bottles of water. I almost grabbed a couple of beers instead, thinking we would need a little fortification for our first home improvement project together, but I left those for an emergency.
The emergency didn't take long...
Four hours and two beers later Woody pointed a frustrated finger at the door and kicked me out. I figured it as a good time to go for a walk. Sometimes togetherness can be overrated, especially when power tools are involved. I was halfway out the building when I pulled out Woody's cell phone I had palmed from the counter. Mine was still missing with Malden's car. I wanted to call Garrett, without Woody standing over my shoulder. I dialed Garrett's line.
"Woody... sorry, I just got your messages about a half-hour ago. Has today been any better for ........"
"Me?...." I cut him off. At first I wondered how Garrett recognized it was Woody's cell phone number on his caller ID. As far as I knew Woody had never called Garrett's direct line. But apparently Woody had been talking to him and by the sounds of it, with quite some frequently, over the last few days. It made me wonder what all I had missed.
"Jordan!" he choked out. I had to smile at his ill at ease. He was quick to regroup. "It's good to hear your voice Jordan." Hearing his reminded me that there still was a world out there. I should have called him yesterday to thank him for giving me those reports.
"Garrett, I wanted to say thank you..."
"No need, Jordan. I knew Nigel was going to get those reports to you somehow anyway. I was just saving myself the trouble of being the last to know."
I laughed to myself as I felt eyes begin to water up. I didn't think I could possibly have any tears left. I squeezed my eyes tight to make them go away. I was cried out for awhile, even if they were just happy tears of relief.
"Hey, has Walcott called off her dogs yet? Can I come back to work?"
The line was silent for a minute I thought maybe we had been disconnected.
"Are you sure Jordan? If you need more t..."
"Yeah, I'm sure."
Knowing Garrett I could see him searching for an excuse to keep me out of there. Apparently Malden and Cahill were still in the building...Yes, it bothered me, but not as much as I thought it would have.
"....Well?"
I felt him give up and lean back in his chair. "Fine. We could use your help. Things have been busy here, being short handed."
"Great, I'll see you first thing!"
"See you in the morning Jordan...and Jordan?"
"Yes?"
"Welcome back." As I hung up I knew he realized I was over the worst of it...even though I was just figuring out that fact for myself.
When I returned awhile later, Woody was finishing up installing the new lock. He proudly showed me his work.
"See, cowboy, you don't even need to memorize a code."
With a long suffering sigh he handed me the keys. I tossed them up and down in my hand. As lay landed in my palm I noticed that there was two identical keys lying there. I pull one of the keys off the ring and tossed it to him. He caught it in midair with a curious look on his face.
"So you don't have to kick my door in again." I felt a tingling in my stomach as his face changed. His eyes became all dark and smoky. I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around him and held him close. He laid his cheek on the top of my head. I stood there listening to his heartbeat. So sure, so strong, so assuasive...calming. Twelve hours ago this closeness, this intimacy, had sent me running for the hills. Now all I wanted to do was relish in it.
"Jordan?"
"...humm?"
"I still have to finish up here...."
I turned away from him my feet walking on air.
"Watch out Jordan the floor's still wet."
I stumbled slightly as I stopped myself from stepping into the middle of the newly refinished area on my floor. I looked down at it, amazed that for a second that I had almost forgot about it even being there. Almost. It had a lighter, newer finish that didn't quite blend in with the rest of the floor. Woody stepped up in back of me and sat heavily on the stool next to the counter.
"It will do for now but we're going to have to refinish the whole thing to get it the entire floor to match..." he sounded drained.
I looked over at him; his jaw twitched. I knew he was remembering why the stain was there in the first place. I laid my hand on his cheek to get his attention on me.
"It'll be fine." When he finally nodded in agreement I stepped around the wide, sticky spot and grabbed a couple of beers out of the refrigerator and handed him one and jumped up on the countertop to sit next to him. Playing with the label on my bottle I watched as he took a drink out of his.... his eyes constantly darted at the floor.
I cleared my throat and said, "By the way, I talked to Garrett today. You've been keeping him posted..." He looked at me shocked for a moment and then he just nodded. "Through all of this you've been quietly keeping everything under control, haven't you?"
"Some control." he muttered into his bottle before he set it down on the counter.
My eyebrows shot up in question. He was looking over at the front door. At first I thought he was thinking about our argument over Eddie. But then it dawned on me. I was so worried about how my father, hell.... about how I would handle coming back here.
But I never once thought about how Woody would take it.
He had been so busy the last few days keeping me sane and putting out all the little fires in our path, he hadn't had a chance to deal with all this himself. That was the reason he wanted the security system and the reason he ground a good half an inch off my hardwood floor. The ghosts in the room were now his.
I put my hand on his shoulder. He reached up and covered it with his own.
"You're an imposter, you know." I whispered.
His head snapped up to look at me. "What?"
"That whole country bumpkin, boy scout routine.... It's all an act you spring on unsuspecting people."
He let out a self-conscience chuckle "What makes you say that?"
"That big 'S' you have tattooed across your chest. It bleeds through your shirt every once in a while."
"You won't tell anyone will you?" He said with a smile that never quite reached his eyes.
"Your secret is safe with me." I turned my hand to interweave our fingers. It was time for me to be the strong one; to be the one to pull us out to safety. He must have realized it because he began to speak. At first the words were hollow, like he was talking about someone else...
But soon the flood gates opened.
"....When I heard the shots I panicked I kicked open the door and Max was standing over Malden. I'm a cop damn it and I didn't know what to do........"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile....
Eddie---
I normally don't drink. But the last few days could drive a man to find an escape in the bottom of a bottle. As it was, I felt like a man who has fallen off the wagon walking into Max's Place. I don't venture there as often as I probably could. The invitation has always been there...but the emotional baggage is an addiction I could never seem to shake no matter what I tell myself or others.
I sat down at the bar and acknowledged Max's welcome. I ordered a whiskey. I needed to warm a glass of it in my hands. Funny, I never developed the taste for it until after I met her. The color haunting because it matches her eyes so well. I passed the next few minutes talking to the man whose life I turned inside out all because of some self-centered notion of righteousness. As he clapped my shoulder and walked away, I thought about how close I came today. It would have been so easy to forget about Max, about Hoyt, about the very reason why I should remain distanced. How did I put it? 'Without all the entanglements everyone else seems to provide for you.' I said it more for my own benefit than hers... Because, it was all right there in those beautiful whiskey colored eyes. That look ...THE look... That look I had waited for from the first time I saw her face.
Only the look wasn't there because of me.
I knew then, without a shadow of a doubt she was going to remain only an allusive dream. Hoyt's a lucky man. I just hope he realized how lucky. I tossed the drink back relishing in the feel of the burn in the back of my throat. Its warmth started in my gut and spread upwards and outwards making me well aware of its presence. I couldn't help but smile at the irony. It was time to get myself seated firmly back on the wagon. I wrapped my hands around the glass one more time before I set it back on the bar. It was time to go. To carry on as usual I threw a twenty on the bar as I waved good night to Max. I walked out the door and looked at my watch ...ten after eight. I could always go back to the office, but maybe not. Tomorrow was going to be just another day. Hopefully, a quieter one.
~~~~~~~~~~
Garrett---
I looked at my watch...I had twenty minutes before the funeral home came for Patrick Cahill's body. Captain Malden's body was picked up a few hours ago. The quicker they were all out of here the more comfortable I would feel. Jordan was coming back to work tomorrow and frankly I didn't want her to have to deal with either of them. I knew at this point I had had my fill of them.
What a mess. What a colossal mess.
There was something more to these murders then meets the eye. Anyone could see that. Just two hours ago on the six o'clock news the police announced that they believed the murders were totally unrelated. Bullshit. Cahill was murdered with Malden's own service pistol! But somehow the evidence mysteriously disappeared in transit to the DA's office. If Renee's reaction to the media's questioning at the latest press conference was any indication she was just as frustrated as I was. I should call her and give her my support, but she'd probably just hang up.
Deservedly so. She was right; this was where it starts. So be it.
I picked up a copy of the incoming log. With the whole staff working exclusively on the two homicides the last three days, there was a backlog. Thank God things would be back to normal in the morning...As normal as they could be around here.
~~~~~~~~~~
Renee---
"Where is that elevator?"
I mashed the button a few more times just to make sure I had called it. Giving up I collected my belongings and made my way to the stairwell. I looked at the clock hanging on the wall before I grabbed the fire door; eight-ten... I could still get a few more hours of work in.
I precariously balanced my fourth cup of coffee in the last two hours on the stack of files I was carrying. For the last 72 hours coffee was all I lived on. As I began to walk up the stairs, I wished I had those hours back to live over again.
Things would be different.
Finding Garrett Macy in a lip lock with a woman almost half his age was actually the highlight. It went straight down hill from there.
Tom Malden and Patrick Cahill. The murders were obviously related, any first year investigator could see that. The press certainly did. I should know; I spent the better part of the last few days dealing with the vultures.
Why were we hitting walls everywhere in the investigation? I felt the lukewarm wetness of my coffee as it splashed over the top of the styrofoam cup and onto my new white silk blouse. "Great" I muttered. A young legal aide making his way down the stairs in front of me wisely gave me a wide berth. I had a damn building full of people and I couldn't even connect the murders to Kevin Cahill or one of the other crime lords in town. And then there was this James Horton, whoever the hell he is.
Someone was covering the tracks of these murders faster then the police could uncover them. Unfortunately, I had a feeling some of those people were in my very own office. With a deep sigh I pushed open the heavy fire door to my floor. Taking a big gulp of the coffee left in the cup I braced myself for another long night.
~~~~~~~~~~
Kevin Cahill---
I lit a fresh Havana, and watched the smoke as it rose into the air. I glanced at the clock sitting on the corner of my desk...ten after eight... a fine time to relax. Damage control was going smoother than I thought it would. My contacts in the statehouse assured me that this would all blow over quickly. A week ago everything had been going so perfectly... all according to plan. .If it weren't for that egocentric by-blow of mine not thinking and getting himself shot, things would have been seamless. But then again, there was Malden... that jackass. Why couldn't have he just follow instructions? His job was simple; keep the law busy, make sure his mistress's son was dead and then die himself at the hands of Max Cavanaugh.
Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh was not to be harmed in anyway. My instructions were very clear on that point.
She was so delightfully easy to manipulate...so predicable...just like her old man. I needed her tucked safely away in her downtown office until it was time to use her again.
Malden did complete one of his tasks efficiently. He verified a very useful piece of information.
Detective Woodrow Hoyt.
The kid was green, had ambition and didn't seem to mind 'bending' the rules when it suited him. He could be very useful someday. And if the reports I have heard on his movements the last week were true...he had a definite Achilles' heel. I love it when things were so nice and tidy. Too many players on the field could be too difficult to control. Patrick proved that.
I poured myself a measure of brandy and raised it in salute to Jordan Cavanaugh's good health.
~~~~~~~~~~
Max---
I waved good night to Eddie as he walked though the thin crowd and out the door. It was only then that I noticed the twenty he had left on the bar. I put the bill in my pocket to give back to him the next time he came in. I told him that his drinks were on me because of all he had done to help Jordan that first night.
That horrible night.
Sweet Mother of Jesus, I felt like I did that September day so many years ago watching them lead her out of her apartment and into the squad car. It was so much like when I watched helplessly as Tom Malden took my baby girl's hand and walked out of her home....I didn't know if I would see her alive again. That same look was in her eyes; pleading for me to tell her this was all a mistake. Say it wasn't so. It was all a bad dream. Make it end Daddy. Then, just as she was being helped into the back seat of the car, there was the awful comprehension....
In just one split second her world had been changed forever...yet again.
I refilled my coffee cup and found a seat. I needed to sit down. The last few days have tapped my strength. Thank God my baby had Woody. He has been her strength. Something she has needed for the last 23 years. Something I never could be to her.
~~~~~~~~~~
James---
I sat in a truck stop waiting for my next ride. Hitch hiking was never safe but the alternative was even more dangerous. Getting across the Canadian border was easier than I thought it would be. I patted my pocket to make sure my father's gun was still there. Damn, what a keepsake to remember your father by.
The gun he was going to kill you with.
I carefully pulled out the photo from my coat pocket. The one I had taken from Jordan's apartment. I set it on the table and looked at the young, happy mother and daughter in it. I ran my fingers over their faces. I lingered on the face of the pretty little girl and prayed she was safe and sound.
"Can I get you another cup of coffee." The waitress's voice made me jump. Lately everything made me jump.
"No, thank you" I couldn't help but notice her looking at the picture.
"Your family? She asked. I only nodded and quickly tucked the photo back into my pocket.
Before she could walk away I asked her the time. I had no idea how many time zones I had traveled through in the last 72 hours. My watch was still on Boston time...eight-ten
"About ten after five, honey"
As she went to the next booth I threw a bill on the table. It was time to move on. Stay one step ahead of the pack of hungry animals that I knew were following close on my trail. It was a life that I was use to. Only this time I felt like there was something behind me that wasn't full of darkness.....someone behind me that I would miss. I stepped out into the temperate air thankful for the slight breeze that kept the black flies at bay. Once at the highway I pointed my thumb northwards. I had a long trip ahead of me before I could rest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Woody and I talked for hours. We both shed a few tears and shared a few laughs. This new found intimacy was not a bad thing. While he was shedding some of his pain I felt some of mine own lift. A little after eight he stood up from the stool and stretched saying his back would never be the same after having slept on the sofa bed for two nights.
He kissed my lips softy and walked out the door. I closed the door quietly behind him. I put my fingers to my lips with a grin. I knew he was waiting in the hallway to hear me throw the new deadbolt.
Suddenly I realized there was this unexpected but welcomed byproduct of knowing he was just outside my door. Home was a safe place. Yes, it may still have the lingering scent of finger print powder and the floor may never be the same...but it was safe.
I leaned against the door and traced a heart with my fingertip on its surface. That big red door, once like the walls of Jericho- 25 feet high 20 feet thick...Never being able to stop the fears of the one who lived behind it. Now was just a plain old door. That big red door, so like the color of my heart. It no longer had its ramparts because they had been taken down not by force, but by lots of persistence, a little music, and....I thought with a smile...a bit of shouting.
"Jordan?" I heard his voice from the hallway.
"Yes?"
"Lock your door...."
I turned the deadbolt with a decided click. I waited there leaning against the door, listening for the sounds of the elevator doors closing. I jumped when I heard his voice so close to my ear...so close, I could have sworn I felt his breath....
"Good night Jordan.....I love you."
As I heard his footsteps echoing down the hall, I wrapped my arms around my waist and tucked the words easily inside my heart.
"Good night.....farm boy." I whispered.
The End
