Day 20: Morgue
I played with a pen . . . clicked the plunger a million times in an hour. I just wanted to hear the noise . . . Garrett told me that Woody made the arrest. Woody was headed over here right now . . . Garrett said that Woody told him not to let me out of his sight. Garrett locked my office door sat next to me . . . he knew a lot more than he was saying. He watched me play with the pen . . . I had barely looked at the file sitting right in front of me. Garrett smiled at me . . . nervously . . . told me to give him the damn pen.
"Jordan, I want you to take a nice long vacation . . . I want you and Max to disappear for a few weeks," Garrett said solemnly . . . his head down . . . he couldn't look me in the eyes.
"It's getting worse?" I asked . . . my voice was shaking, "I thought Jacobson would be arrested . . . then this would be over."
"It's not getting better. Jordan, Jacobson is making threats . . . Woody said that this wasn't a one-person serial killer . . . this is some kind of network of corruption. Jordan, you have to be very careful," Garrett said . . . he held my hands . . . the air was trapped in my chest . . . I felt like I needed to gasp for air . . . I became more acutely aware of the pain in my neck and head. Garrett looked me dead in the eyes . . . his eyes told me the whole story . . . he didn't even need to talk anymore.
"Garrett, I wouldn't even know where to go," I said . . . "I can't ask Dad to leave the Pogue."
"It's okay. We'll figure it out. Right now, I just want you to stay where I can see you," Garrett said as he wrapped his arms around me . . . holding me close to his chest as I began to cry again . . . I wanted to erase the last few months.
The knocking on the door startled me . . . Garrett let Woody in. I tried to conceal the fact that I was crying again . . . Woody asked Garrett if I knew . . . Garrett said something that I couldn't hear . . . I felt like I was in a trance.
"Jordan, let's go get you packed up," Woody said as he helped me to my feet, "Jordan, we need to get you out of Boston."
"Where are you taking me?" I asked through the steady stream of tears I was unsuccessfully trying to fight.
"I don't know yet . . . but it's not safe for you to stay here anymore. I called Max already . . . Nigel is on his way in . . . am I forgetting anything?" Woody asked moving frantically . . . he knew something more than he was telling me . . . someone was really serious about killing me . . . destroying all the physical evidence in the case.
"Love, you be careful," Nigel said as I hugged him . . . I told him that I didn't want to go . . . he told me to buck up . . . that a little time away from Boston might be good for me right now . . . I said that I loved him . . . he said he loved me too . . . I cried harder as Woody encouraged me to move faster . . . it was like I was caught in a nightmare.
I waved to Garrett and Nigel as Woody and I left . . . we had to use the freight elevator to leave the building . . . I hoped that I would get to see them again. Little did I know that the bomb squad had intercepted a package containing a bomb . . . the package was meant for me.
Day 20: Boston PD – Woody's POV
"I don't even know what to tell you," Eddie said as he rested his hands in his head . . . Jordan lay across the couch in my office . . . she had finally cried herself to sleep. Two small suitcases lay on the ground next to the couch . . . mine was in the trunk of the car.
"We've got to get both of you out of Boston," Max said . . . he sat on the corner of my desk . . . Eddie called him to ask for help . . . Eddie had no idea what to do.
"We've got to make sure that this stays quiet," I said, "Jordan does not need to know about any of this . . . she doesn't need to know about the bombs. How the hell did they get our home addresses?"
"We could call in the FBI," Eddie offered.
"That would take too much time . . . besides that would send up some huge red flags. Jacobson and Abrams would notice that," Max replied.
"Winslow, Jacobson is out . . . he made bail," Julie, the ADA, said as she poked her head into my office . . . I could feel my heart sinking.
"How the hell did he come up with a million dollars," Eddie cursed as he got up to pace the room.
"The money came from Arthur Davidson . . . he said he was a friend of Jacobson . . . college roommates," Julie said as she came into the office, "It was a little too rehearsed for me."
"Call Nigel . . . have him trace the name," I said . . . my heart was pounding and my hands were sweating . . . I could barely sit still in my chair . . . Jacobson said that Jordan should sleep with her doors locked . . . it sent shivers down my spine . . . he was out within three hours of being charged with six counts of murder, one count of extortion, and one count of attempted murder.
"Woody, I have more good news . . . Dr. Macy called me," Julie said sighing, "Dr. Cavanaugh has been receiving death threats . . . two so far . . . I sent your boys to the telephone company to trace the calls."
"Jesus," Eddie swore as he continued to pace the room, "Woody, you're from Wisconsin, right?"
"Now isn't the time for small talk," I snapped.
"Are you from a small enough town that people would notice someone strange lurking around?" Eddie asked.
"I'm from a town of three hundred . . . I guess they'd notice a new face in town . . . there aren't really any hotels nearby . . . no rental car agencies . . . anything really fancy would stick out," I rambled finally catching hold of what Eddie was thinking.
"Jordan would stick out in Wisconsin . . . she sticks out in Boston," Max said.
"Not if I told my mom I was bringing home my girlfriend . . . she would tell the ladies in her knitting circle . . . everyone would expect to see her," I rationalized.
"Jordan isn't going to be happy with you," Max said.
"I'd rather deal with a pissed off Jordan than a dead Jordan," I replied.
"I'm calling to get a private plane for you . . . is there a private landing strip in . . . ," Eddie trailed off as he dialed air patrol.
"Kewaunee . . . I'll call my parent's neighbors to see if we can land in their pasture," I offered.
Day 21: En route to Logan Airport (2 am)
Dad helped me walk out to a black SUV . . . tinted windows . . . the whole bit. I heard Woody say something about bulletproof to Eddie. Woody lagged behind carrying my suitcases . . . he was talking to Eddie about security. I wondered what the hell was going on.
Dad helped me into the back of the SUV. He told me that everything would clear up soon . . . all my friends and most of the Boston PD were working hard to figure out who was responsible for this whole mess. Dad told me to be good . . . he would follow us to the airport. I kissed his cheek . . . I asked him if this was a dream. All he could say was that it would all be over soon . . . Woody would take good care of me.
"Jordan, are you ready?" Woody asked as he climbed into the driver's seat and started the ignition.
"Let's go . . . I just want to get out of Boston," I said. I could barely believe that I had said that . . . for so many years I longed for Boston. I longed for routine . . . for my tiny circle of friends that had become my family. Now, I wanted to transport all that routine to a place where I was safer . . . where I could leave my father's home without an armed guard. I wanted to go back to how I used to be . . . I didn't want to be so scared . . . I had never been scared before.
"Jordan, this is only for a week . . . think of it as a week long vacation," Woody reassured me.
"Some vacation . . . I'm in a bulletproof SUV with two unmarked cars following us to a tiny airfield . . . where we have a private plane waiting to take us God knows where," I said cynically . . . swallowing hard to get the words out.
"I brought you some cold case files to work on," Woody said . . . it was charming how he tried so hard to make me happy. He tried so hard to make me forget that tonight we were supposed to be celebrating his arrest at some restaurant . . . celebrating my freedom.
"Thanks. Could you tell me where you are taking me?" I demanded . . . trying not to be short with him, but I could barely control how angry I was inside.
"You are going to hate it," Woody replied.
"It's July . . . please tell me were are not headed to the North Pole or the Equator," I said . . . trying my hardest to be the cynical, hard Jordan of yesterday.
"Well . . . it's in the middle. Please promise if I tell you . . . . promise you won't get mad at me," Woody said as he concentrated on driving quickly through the streets of Boston . . . trying to maintain radio contact with Eddie who was driving Dad.
"I'm not going to be mad," I said . . . knowing that it was a half truth.
"Wisconsin . . . we are going to stay with my parents for a week," Woody said quickly.
"Wisconsin . . . your parents. Woody, how did you know that was my dream vacation," I said . . . trying hard not to sound mad . . . part of me was excited to find out where Woody came from . . . what had made him such a good man.
"I kind of told my parents that I was bring home my fiancée to meet the family," Woody said . . . even faster . . . so fast that I almost didn't hear it.
"Well, that's a little presumptuous," I said . . . when I was with him, I could feel myself easing back into my own skin.
"Jordan, there is only one spare bedroom and my mom would never let me sleep on the couch . . . I'd have to sleep in the barn," Woody said.
"Why can't you sleep on the couch? I could sleep on the couch," I replied.
"My mom doesn't want the couch to get dirty . . . Jordan, I'll sleep on the floor," Woody explained . . . I laughed at how worked up he was getting, "Jordan, stop laughing . . . don't you dare make me have to sleep out in the barn."
"How big the guest bed?"
"Full size."
"It should be interesting," I replied . . . I felt like I had turned back the clock twenty days. It was almost hard to remember that my trip to Wisconsin was an emergency relocation . . . that someone wanted me dead.