Chapter 11
Jordan had prepared herself for today. She had gone over her notes and all the files. But more than that, she had worked hard to get herself ready emotionally.
She had not seen Woody in two days. She had no idea where he was in Boston, but knew he was still there. He had been by The Pogue to see her dad, but not while she was working. He hadn't come to the morgue or her apartment again. But today the entire task force on the Summer Rapist was meeting and that included Woody.
She had felt a shock go through her system when she began to examine the old case files that had his handwriting on them. Unlike many separated lovers, Jordan had nothing to remember Woody by – no old sweatshirt or t- shirt, no sweat pants, no jacket. Just her memories. His handwriting had been the first tangible thing she had seen from Woody in three years. And she had been more shocked when she finally saw him than she could have imagined. He was muscular and lean. The tan he had gotten from working outdoors made his blue eyes seem even bluer. His hair had bleached out from the sun. While she felt the years had turned her into a haggard, older woman, they had sculpted him into someone who looked like they could be a model for GQ. No wonder he had fled her apartment earlier this week, she thought bitterly.
So today, she dressed in full "Jordan Armor." Her hair was put up with small wisps escaping around her ears and on the back of her neck. She wore her red business suit with the white lacey blouse, black pumps and sheer, black hose. She examined herself in the mirror before she left her apartment. Careful make up, discreet jewelry. She sighed. She looked every inch a professional medical examiner, nothing like the young woman that Woody left three years ago.
Woody paced the floor of his BPD office. His old supervisor had given him an office while the task force was meeting and joked about making it permanent if Woody wanted to come back. He hadn't heard from Jordan and was taking Nigel's advice. But it was hard letting this lady lead the next dance if he wasn't sure what steps she was taking.
"Time to go Woodrow," said Eddie Winslow, breezing by Woody's open door. "Task force meets in five."
Woody took his seat with the other officers and waited while Rene Walcott, Garret, and finally Jordan entered the room. Jordan could feel his eyes sweep over her as she took her seat next to Garrett and across from him. Warily, she glanced up at him as he helped her put her files and briefcase down. "Sweet Jesus," she thought "He looks good enough to eat." The blue suit he had on was the same color of his eyes and the white shirt just made him look that much more tanned. "And damn it, he still wears the same cologne." She grimaced and hoped she could get through the meeting without physically melting at the man's feet.
Rene and the chief opened the meeting by discussing the old cases. Jordan quickly found her attention pulled back to the victims and the new information from the officers. Maps were produced and sites were listed that could possibly be new attack areas. Jordan and Garrett gave what DNA and forensic evidence they had. With the promise from the chief for more man power in the areas that could be potential attack spots, the meeting was over. Jordan sighed with relief. She had given intelligent answers and hadn't collapsed in front of Woody. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could hide out in Garrett's office the rest of the day, tell Emmie to hold all of her calls, and curl up in the fetal position and cry the afternoon away until she felt better.
Luck wasn't going to run her way.
"Let me walk you back to your office, Jordan," said Woody, taking the files and briefcase out of her hand.
Jordan tried to protest, but it was too little, too late. He had everything but her purse and was steering her down the hall to the elevators with his free arm. Jordan flashed a look at Garrett, who was too busy talking to Rene to notice Jordan's discomfort. He held her elbow until they got in the elevator. When the door closed, Jordan knew she should move away, but the smell of his cologne and the touch of his hand were too much. She fought the urge to turn and simply bury her face in his arms. Instead Woody moved his hand away from her arm and faced her.
"Nice suit," he said.
"Thank you," Jordan replied, not meeting his eyes, but continuing to look at the elevator door in front of her.
"I didn't think you owned one before." He frowned, trying to remember.
"A lot changes in three years, Woody. Including wardrobe."
Just as the doors began to open, Woody leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Yeah, but do you still wear pink lace underwear?"
Jordan felt her face growing warm as Woody took her arm again and escorted her across the street and into the morgue. He deposited her briefcase and files on her desk. "Well do you?" he asked again. Jordan was just about to tell him it was none of his damn business and maybe she wasn't wearing any underwear, when Bug popped his head her office.
"Sorry to interrupt this little Kodak moment," he said, "but you're needed in autopsy B, Jordan."
"Be there in just a minute, Bug."
"Look, Woody, I know we have to work on this task force together," Jordan began.
"Have dinner with me."
"What?"
Woody slowly ran his fingers down Jordan's arm. "You heard me, have dinner with me. Call me when you're through and we'll have dinner."
"Um, we'll see. This may take a while."
"Then I'll call you," Woody replied, turning and leaving the morgue.
And he did. He called at four, and Lily told him Jordan was finished with Autopsy B, but they had someone else come in and now she was in Autopsy A.
So he called at six. He didn't get Lily, but got the voice mail. Slightly miffed because he thought Jordan may be stalling him, he strode over to the morgue. She wasn't stalling.
Jordan was back in Autopsy B with two victims. Woody caught Nigel coming out to run tox screens.
"Is it always this bad with her?" he jerked his thumb towards the autopsy window.
"I told you mate, she's a workaholic now. And Garrett lets her be. But she's bloody working herself in the ground."
Woody looked at the strained look on Jordan's face, apparent through the face shield.
"She averages 12 autopsies a week now, you know," said Nigel.
"She's killing herself."
"Well, perfectionists are known for that. Gee, wouldn't it be nice if someone let her know it was okay to just be Jordan once in a while," Nigel said, giving Woody a very pointed look.
Jordan had prepared herself for today. She had gone over her notes and all the files. But more than that, she had worked hard to get herself ready emotionally.
She had not seen Woody in two days. She had no idea where he was in Boston, but knew he was still there. He had been by The Pogue to see her dad, but not while she was working. He hadn't come to the morgue or her apartment again. But today the entire task force on the Summer Rapist was meeting and that included Woody.
She had felt a shock go through her system when she began to examine the old case files that had his handwriting on them. Unlike many separated lovers, Jordan had nothing to remember Woody by – no old sweatshirt or t- shirt, no sweat pants, no jacket. Just her memories. His handwriting had been the first tangible thing she had seen from Woody in three years. And she had been more shocked when she finally saw him than she could have imagined. He was muscular and lean. The tan he had gotten from working outdoors made his blue eyes seem even bluer. His hair had bleached out from the sun. While she felt the years had turned her into a haggard, older woman, they had sculpted him into someone who looked like they could be a model for GQ. No wonder he had fled her apartment earlier this week, she thought bitterly.
So today, she dressed in full "Jordan Armor." Her hair was put up with small wisps escaping around her ears and on the back of her neck. She wore her red business suit with the white lacey blouse, black pumps and sheer, black hose. She examined herself in the mirror before she left her apartment. Careful make up, discreet jewelry. She sighed. She looked every inch a professional medical examiner, nothing like the young woman that Woody left three years ago.
Woody paced the floor of his BPD office. His old supervisor had given him an office while the task force was meeting and joked about making it permanent if Woody wanted to come back. He hadn't heard from Jordan and was taking Nigel's advice. But it was hard letting this lady lead the next dance if he wasn't sure what steps she was taking.
"Time to go Woodrow," said Eddie Winslow, breezing by Woody's open door. "Task force meets in five."
Woody took his seat with the other officers and waited while Rene Walcott, Garret, and finally Jordan entered the room. Jordan could feel his eyes sweep over her as she took her seat next to Garrett and across from him. Warily, she glanced up at him as he helped her put her files and briefcase down. "Sweet Jesus," she thought "He looks good enough to eat." The blue suit he had on was the same color of his eyes and the white shirt just made him look that much more tanned. "And damn it, he still wears the same cologne." She grimaced and hoped she could get through the meeting without physically melting at the man's feet.
Rene and the chief opened the meeting by discussing the old cases. Jordan quickly found her attention pulled back to the victims and the new information from the officers. Maps were produced and sites were listed that could possibly be new attack areas. Jordan and Garrett gave what DNA and forensic evidence they had. With the promise from the chief for more man power in the areas that could be potential attack spots, the meeting was over. Jordan sighed with relief. She had given intelligent answers and hadn't collapsed in front of Woody. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could hide out in Garrett's office the rest of the day, tell Emmie to hold all of her calls, and curl up in the fetal position and cry the afternoon away until she felt better.
Luck wasn't going to run her way.
"Let me walk you back to your office, Jordan," said Woody, taking the files and briefcase out of her hand.
Jordan tried to protest, but it was too little, too late. He had everything but her purse and was steering her down the hall to the elevators with his free arm. Jordan flashed a look at Garrett, who was too busy talking to Rene to notice Jordan's discomfort. He held her elbow until they got in the elevator. When the door closed, Jordan knew she should move away, but the smell of his cologne and the touch of his hand were too much. She fought the urge to turn and simply bury her face in his arms. Instead Woody moved his hand away from her arm and faced her.
"Nice suit," he said.
"Thank you," Jordan replied, not meeting his eyes, but continuing to look at the elevator door in front of her.
"I didn't think you owned one before." He frowned, trying to remember.
"A lot changes in three years, Woody. Including wardrobe."
Just as the doors began to open, Woody leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Yeah, but do you still wear pink lace underwear?"
Jordan felt her face growing warm as Woody took her arm again and escorted her across the street and into the morgue. He deposited her briefcase and files on her desk. "Well do you?" he asked again. Jordan was just about to tell him it was none of his damn business and maybe she wasn't wearing any underwear, when Bug popped his head her office.
"Sorry to interrupt this little Kodak moment," he said, "but you're needed in autopsy B, Jordan."
"Be there in just a minute, Bug."
"Look, Woody, I know we have to work on this task force together," Jordan began.
"Have dinner with me."
"What?"
Woody slowly ran his fingers down Jordan's arm. "You heard me, have dinner with me. Call me when you're through and we'll have dinner."
"Um, we'll see. This may take a while."
"Then I'll call you," Woody replied, turning and leaving the morgue.
And he did. He called at four, and Lily told him Jordan was finished with Autopsy B, but they had someone else come in and now she was in Autopsy A.
So he called at six. He didn't get Lily, but got the voice mail. Slightly miffed because he thought Jordan may be stalling him, he strode over to the morgue. She wasn't stalling.
Jordan was back in Autopsy B with two victims. Woody caught Nigel coming out to run tox screens.
"Is it always this bad with her?" he jerked his thumb towards the autopsy window.
"I told you mate, she's a workaholic now. And Garrett lets her be. But she's bloody working herself in the ground."
Woody looked at the strained look on Jordan's face, apparent through the face shield.
"She averages 12 autopsies a week now, you know," said Nigel.
"She's killing herself."
"Well, perfectionists are known for that. Gee, wouldn't it be nice if someone let her know it was okay to just be Jordan once in a while," Nigel said, giving Woody a very pointed look.