Jordan couldn't remember ever being so tired. She looked at the clock hanging in her kitchen. Eighteen hours. Eighteen hours ago she was standing next to a smoldering car looking at an incinerated corpse. It seemed like a life time ago. The day ended with more questions then it began with.

Earlier she had watched Walcott standing next to the police commissioner during a press conference about the two deaths in the department. Walcott refused to answer any questions about either case. The presses frustration matched Jordan's.

Lily was right. Jordan was there she held the proof in her hands. Then why couldn't she shake the feeling that he was out there someplace...very much alive.

She closed her eyes and tried to tell herself that it was true he was dead. But it wouldn't work.

The phone rang. She picked it up before the ring stopped resonating. There was silence on the other end. Her crank caller picked the wrong moment to call.

"What do you want?!"

Her answer was a dial tone. Jordan slammed the phone back down on the cradle and then took it back off. She decided to call the telephone company in the morning and get her phone number changed.

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

Woody pushed the disconnect button on the phone just as Tillman rounded the corner from the kitchen.

"Hoyt, what the hell are you doing!" Tillman grabbed his cell phone out of Woody's hands. "You know the rules. You can't contact anyone."

He looked at the call log and shook his head when he recognized the number Woody dialed.

"Aw man. Leave her alone. She is trouble. Cavanaugh is already one step away from blowing this thing sky high and getting us all killed in the process."

For the first time all day Woody tried to smile. Tillman had told him about Jordan's tear though FBI field office and her picture was on the evening news with Worthington. He told Woody that she smelled a conspiracy.....and rightly so. He told him that Jordan was acting like a hound on the scent and it concerned him.

The phone rang in Tillman's hands. He stepped away and answered it. After a few seconds he told Woody to turn on the television. The local station was reporting that they had Kevin Cahill in custody and that they found the new chief of police dead in his office of apparent suicide.

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

Jordan arrived at the morgue the next morning and locked herself in her office, warning Emmy that she would personally make sure she ended up on a slab if anyone disturbed her.

That was an hour ago.

She sat at her desk with a manila folder in her hands not daring to open it. Inside were the crime scene photos from the explosion.

Finally, she couldn't put it off any longer. She had seen pictures similar to these a thousand times. It was part of her job. She opened the cover and put her hand to her mouth as her breath caught in her throat..

So much for professional apathy she thought.

One by one she thumbed through the prints. She studied each shot. Jordan knew she was missing something.... She couldn't quite put her finger on it. The photos began to blur as stray tears began to dot her cheeks.

Jordan wiped her face quickly when she heard a knock on the door. She looked up when Howard Stiles peeked inside.

"I thought I'd find you here. How are you doing Jordan?"

"Eleven times."

Howard stepped into the room with a confused look on his face. "Eleven times Jordan?"

"I have been asked that question eleven times today and it's not even lunch time yet."

"I'm sorry."

Jordan arched an eyebrow. Howard assumed she had that statement a few times also.

"What do you want Howard?"

"Actually I'm here to see Garret. He called me this morning, but he's busy with a family right now."

"I'm sure he won't be long. You'll need find somewhere else to wait for him...I'm busy."

"Oh, I'm fine right here." he said making himself at home on her sofa. "I understand you are not planning on attending Detective Hoyt's memorial service."

Emmy told her that the police department had called and issued the medical examiner's office and personal invitation to the service later in the week.

"I can understand, given the questionable circumstances of his passing that you might be a little apprehensive.... but I hear you are denying that he's even gone. I'm concerned about you Jordan."

"Howard, if you're planning on psycho analyzing somebody today...you can just wait for Garret. He needs a refill on his Prozac as it is."

"I'd rather talk to you Jordan. Why do you think you're having such a hard time believing his gone?"

Jordan closed the manila folder and pushed it away from her.

"Because he's not dead."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do Howard...now can you leave my alone?"

"It's hard to lose someone you love...denial is a very natural response."

"I'm denying anything and I certainly don't love him."

"Did you ever sleep with him?"

"No, of course not."

"How much weight have you lost in the last few months Jordan?"

"Isn't that a personal question?"

"I just asked you if you had sex with a man and you didn't even bat an eye."

"Because I was too shocked."

"Answer the question Jordan."

"I haven't weighed myself in a long time."

"I bet your weight loss started the same time you stopped sleeping."

"I'm sleeping fine!"

"I still think you're breathtaking even with those circles under your eyes....I suspect it all started about the same time Detective Hoyt left the nineteen."

"You don't want to go there Howard."

"How did you feel when this all started? When he went to work for the chief. He let you down didn't he?"

"Yes! I feel like I lost my.... best friend... damn it...Are you satisfied?"

Jordan stood up from her desk and stood in front of the window. She didn't know what made her madder. The fact that Howard was badgering her or that he was making her feel things she didn't want to face.

"When we lose a loved one a hole is left...."

"There you go again...I don't love him."

"You just called him your best friend and you've kept him at arm's length. Were you afraid he was going to leave too?"

"I don't want to talk about this."

"The men in you love always do this to you Jordan...don't they? They come into your life and steal your heart....everything is wonderful until sex enters the picture and then it blows up in your face. Now sex is just a bodily function, an impulse that has no place into the relationships that really count."

Jordan turned from the window and laughed in Howard's face.

"I heard that platonic relationships are supposed to be safer"

"There are millions of intimate couples in this country that would disagree with you."

"The good it did me...... He's gone.....Wait! I didn't mean that...Damn it Howard you're putting words in my mouth!"

"I'm just getting you to accept the fact that he's dead Jordan."

Jordan looked at anything but Howard's face as he stood up. She could feel the prickle of tears in her eyes as he placed a hand on her arm.

"Do you think you could have saved him Jordan?"

"......Maybe"

"Do you think he loved you?"

"You'll just have to ask him when he shows up"

Howard picked up the closed folder from the desk and held it out in front of him.

"He's dead Jordan, you saw the body yourself."

"We're done, Howard."

Jordan walked over to her door and pulled it open. Howard handed her the folder.

"Do you believe in love Jordan? Truly believe in it?"

"I thought I did...I don't know....No, not anymore."

"What if I told you there are so many people who love you? Many right here in this building."

"I would say it wasn't worth it."

Howard made a noise in the back of his throat and nodded a few times before he headed down the hallway. Jordan leaned back against her doorway. Howard left nerves raw and her heart questioning.

Jordan followed his path out of her office. She needed to escape the feelings that were fighting to surface. When she passed Trace she threw the crime scene photos on Nigel's desk. She couldn't bring herself to look at them anymore. She didn't stop when they scattered on the floor.

The hair on the back of neck stood up when she walked passed the conference room. There was a man inside; his back was to her....but the build....the posture..... He turned and she looked in a pair of familiar blue eyes. Jordan's knees buckled for a second until she realized it wasn't Woody, but she could break her stare.

Calvin Hoyt looked at the brunette standing there gaping at him in the hallway. He had been getting looks like that all morning. That momentary gaze like they've seen a ghost, than the apologetic pity. He was tired of it. He didn't want stares, he wanted answers.

He began with the police department who directed him to the FBI field office. They told him to go back to Kewanee. Cal finally asked the cab driver to take him to the morgue.

The chief medical examiner told him to sit tight and that he would send in some grief counselor. Calvin didn't want a grief counselor... he wanted his brother.

His family was already distraught. He left his mother with her rosary and his father trying to make sense of his child dieing before him. The idea of returning home without Woody left him feeling both angry and helpless. He called out to the brunette.

"Are you this 'grief' councilor Macy was talking about? If you are, you can save yourself the trouble. If you can't tell me where my brother is.... I don't want to talk to you."