Day 21: Kewaunee, Wisconsin (10 am) – Woody's POV
I watch her sleep in the backseat of the squad driving us to my parent's house – in sleep, she looks so much more innocent than she is. During the plane ride, I wrapped her in my suit jacket . . . I never asked if she was cold. She asked me if my mother would like her. I asked her if it mattered . . . she said that it did.
I spent the last half of our flight in radio contact with the Kewaunee sheriff . . . my parents' next door neighbor. All my parents' mail would be flown to Milwaukee for more in depth screening for the next few weeks . . . I didn't want my parents to know why I was taking my impromptu visit home. Russell agreed to step up patrols of the country roads surrounding my parent's farm . . . I told him that I would be armed . . . I wasn't going to let anything happen to Jordan or my family.
Her chest rose softly . . . she was making up for all the hours of lost sleep. She barely slept anymore . . . Jordan was in a constant state of half-awareness. Her chestnut hair blocked the sun from her eyes. She was still wearing my suit jacket.
Our driver was no more than twenty years old . . . I didn't remember him . . . he must be straight out of the technical college police training program . . . probably had to go to Appleton or Fond du Lac to get that degree. At age twenty, he was probably supporting a wife and a child . . . Kewaunee was so much different than Boston . . . things were simpler . . . times were slower . . . you worked the fields during the day . . . watched the sunset on the porch. I wasn't sure if I missed those days.
Just a few years ago, I worked the night shift . . . primarily desk work and a few patrols . . . my mom needed me to help with the cows in the morning. Dad worked a second job in the paper mill to pay for my older sister's wedding . . . I was needed at home. I dated the same girl that I dated during high school . . . Amy Lynn Patterson. My mom called a few weeks ago to say that Amy Lynn had married my friend, Joseph Riley – she was pregnant and he had a good job in the paper mill. I wasn't jealous.
My mom asked about girls – she wanted to know what Boston girls were like. I didn't know what to tell her – Boston girls were so many different things. They were smart, tough, and independent – but on the inside each was as fragile as a butterfly wing. Mom asked me when I was going to get married . . . I always told her I wasn't sure . . . I liked the Boston girls . . . they make you wait.
"Here you are Detective Hoyt," the officer said as he pulled into my parents' driveway . . . Mom hurried over to the passenger side where I was sitting.
"Thank you . . . you can really call me Woody," I said as I got out of the car, "Hi, Mom."
She flew into my arms . . . she was crying. She was crying so hard that I could barely understand what she was saying . . . it was the first time she saw me in two years. I missed her on Christmas . . . I couldn't afford to fly home . . . so I sat in my apartment and ate a TV dinner . . . called home . . . I told them I needed to work . . . saving lives in Boston. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone.
"Where's this girl?" my mom asked as she wiped the tears from her eyes . . . she was ecstatic to meet Jordan.
"She's still a little tired from the late flight . . . If you don't mind, I'd like to let her sleep as long as possible," I whispered as I opened up the back of the squad . . . I gently lifted Jordan out of the backseat . . . my mom ran ahead to open the door for me . . . Jordan whispered something about how good I was as I carried her inside the house.
My mom watched as I lay Jordan across the guest bed . . . the young officer carried our luggage in. I thanked him . . . gave him a small tip. He looked at me funny . . . said he didn't need the money . . . I asked him to go out and buy his girlfriend something nice. My mom laughed . . . said that I was quite the man . . . I was so Boston . . . whatever that meant. My mom gave me blanket to cover Jordan with . . . I couldn't take my eyes off Jordan . . . she looked so beautiful. I adjusted the scarf on her neck to conceal the rest of the large yellow bruises. I followed my mom into the kitchen.
"She's beautiful, Woodrow. Tell me about her," My mom asked as she busied herself in the kitchen . . . she was making homemade hot chocolate on an eighty degree day . . . she knew it was my favorite.
"Jordan . . . Jordan is great. She's a medical examiner in Boston . . . she's a doctor. You'll really like her," I said as I stood up to help my mom . . . she shooed me away.
"A doctor. Woodrow, how did you meet her?" My mom probed . . . smiling at the thought of her 'daughter-in-law' being a doctor.
"In the morgue . . . she helped me solve a couple cases. Mom, she's really smart. Her dad is a cop . . . he's helped me with a bunch of cases," I rambled.
"Sounds like you have made quite the niche in Boston. I'm so glad that you are happy . . . it means the world to me, Woodrow," my mom gushed as she handed me the steaming mug, "I'm glad that you found the life you always wanted. I knew you would do good . . . you were such a smart boy."
"How's Abigail and her husband?" I asked . . . I missed my sister . . . my brother on the other hand . . . we didn't talk about him often.
"She's pregnant . . . going to have a girl this time. Richard is still working as a mechanic . . . he was certified to work on tractors a few months ago," my mom said, "Dad is out in the fields . . . one of the bulls broke through the electric fence. Dad is worried that we won't be able to sell him for beef."
"I'm sure everything is going to work out alright," I replied.
Day 21: Boston – Trace Evidence (Garrett's POV)
"Dr. Macy, I don't know why you would doubt me," Bug said as he pulled the brown wrapping paper out of the fume chamber . . . he had used super glue to flush out any prints on the paper surrounding the boxes . . . this was the box shipped to Woody's apartment. I held my breath . . . the other three were clean . . . only the prints of the mail carrier . . . some latex smudges from the post office shipping plant. Nigel was busy comparing the tape used to secure the paper . . . I wanted them all the match . . . it meant one bomber . . . I would prefer it was Jacobson.
"I've got a thumb print . . . it's a little rough, but let's scan it in," Bug said . . . he cut the print out and loaded it into the scanner, "It doesn't match."
"It doesn't match what?" I asked pacing the room . . . inwardly I was growing more and more frustrated . . . outside I was impatient.
"It's not the mail carrier . . . this one doesn't belong," Bug said, "I'm going to run it against the nation databases."
"Dr. Macy, I ran a search on Arthur Davidson," Peter said as he walked in Trace . . . it caused me to jump.
"I gave that to Nigel," I replied . . . I wasn't even sure what the comment meant.
"Nigel showed me how to do a search . . . he wants to keep working on the tape," Peter quickly explained, "Davidson is a thirty-five year old male . . . he's a politician . . . alderman for district eight."
"That doesn't help," I interrupted.
"No, here's where it gets good," Peter said, "Fingerprints are in the national database . . . he was arrested for a DUI . . . charges were dropped per request of our great mayor, Donald Wesley . . . who had Jacobson as his personal assistant. Davidson currently is the assistant campaign manager and speech writer for no other than Senator Ellington. I already called the courthouse to get the bail papers that Davidson signed . . . that way we know it was him."
"Good work, Peter," I said feeling overjoyed for the first time in days . . . this was all finally starting to come together . . . things were finally starting to tie together . . . Abrams and Ellington.
"You want some good news, Boss Man," Nigel said as he handed me a stack of papers, "All the tape matches . . . all the bombs were made at the same time . . . I can splice the pieces of tape together . . . there's only one bomb-maker. I called Eddie already."
"I can one up you there. My thumbprint is no other than Arthur Davidson," Bug said challenging Nigel . . . they both wanted Jordan home. It devastated Nigel to watch Jordan leave . . . they had become so close. I knew that I felt my heartbreak as I watched her leave . . . it was a hurt like no other.
"Okay, Nigel, Bug, let's go to the conference room . . . it's time to play Jordan's game," I said as I walked out of Trace . . . Nigel and Bug following. I knew this game scared Bug . . . he hated to role play with Jordan . . . I could see his hand tremble out of the corner of my eye. I could feel my hands trembling . . . this damn game gave me the most heinous nightmares.
Day 21: Hoyt Home (5 pm) (Jordan's POV)
"Jordan, you need to get up and eat something," Woody coaxed as he tried to gently wake me . . . I felt disoriented . . . I felt tired, but I felt safe with Woody there.
"How long have I been sleeping?" I asked . . . trying to sit up . . . I still had Woody's suit jacket on . . . it smelt of his cologne . . . very earthy.
"Since four this morning," Woody said as he helped me out of his suit jacket, "It's already dinner time . . . I set some of your stuff out in the bathroom. In case you wanted to clean up for dinner."
"Sure . . . thanks," I said as I stood up . . . there was a small bathroom attached to the guestroom . . . I turned on the cold water in the sink . . . washed my face . . . I had hoped that the cold water would wake me up.
"You need any help?" Woody asked . . . I turned to see him in the doorway . . . I saw him in jeans only one other time . . . when he was suspended . . . that rich girl . . . the constriction fetishist.
"Am I over dressed?" I asked cautiously . . . I was wearing black suit pants and a white fitted cotton shirt . . . this morning, it was something that I decided I wouldn't mind dying in . . . I wanted to look nice when I met my mother.
"No, you look fine," Woody replied . . . as I dried my face, "Are you ready?"
"Let's go," I said trying my hardest to smile . . . adjusting my scarf . . . Woody told me that I could take it off . . . I was afraid to see the bruising . . . it reminded me of Elizabeth, Candice . . . and all the others. Woody put his arm around me . . . told me just to be myself . . . that I would like his parents . . . he asked me to relax . . . told me that I was safe here.
"How was your nap, sweetie," Woody's mom said as she hugged me . . . taking me off guard.
"Good . . . I guess the plane ride tired me out," I said lamely.
"Jordan, go sit down . . . we are almost ready to eat. Paul is going to be in from the barn in a few minutes," Woody's mom said as she ushered Woody into the kitchen.
"Are you sure that I can't help?" I asked . . . I just wanted to be by Woody . . . it felt safer there.
"Woodrow is just finishing up supper. He tells me that you are a doctor. What an exciting job," she gushed.
"I like my job . . . very rewarding," I replied unsure of what to say.
"He says you work as a doctor that solves crimes . . . it's so nice that you and Woodrow will always be able to work together. Is he treating you good?" she rambled.
"He takes excellent care of me . . . you raised a wonderful son," I replied smiling.
"Oh, I'm so proud of my Woodrow. He worked so hard at school to be a cop . . . most kids here go to the technical college, but Woodrow worked his way through Lakeland College . . . for four years," she rambled.
"He's a great cop . . . he's really good at his job," I replied . . . it felt like I was parroting back what she was saying to me.
"Susan, dinner smells good. I just need to wash up quick," a man called out at he walked through the back door.
"Paul, clean up good Jordan and Woodrow are already here," Susan called out . . . I was relieved to finally know her name.
"Jordan, pleased to meet you . . . I'm Paul," he said as he nodded his head . . . headed towards the powder room to clean up for supper. He looked a lot like Woody . . . only so much older. He was tall . . . he still had thick, dark brown hair . . . he had the same carefree smile . . . he looked so warm . . . the same way Woody was warm.
"Mom, don't interrogate Jordan," Woody lectured.
"I'm not interrogating . . . I'm just making sure that you are behaving yourself in Boston," Susan said laughing . . . it was the same infectious laugh that Woody had.
"Mom, I work so much that it is hard for me to get in trouble," Woody commented as he began to set the table . . . I took the silverware from him . . . I began to help him set the table . . . Susan laughed as I straightened the plates out.
"Jordan, I haven't seen the ring that Woodrow gave you," Susan said matter-of-factly.
"We are having it resized . . . it's beautiful," I quickly responded.
"Woodrow, you better have spent 3 months of your salary," Susan lectured with a smile.
"Mom, Jordan isn't supposed to know how much I spent on her ring," Woody replied his eyes averting mine . . . he was embarrassed . . . turning twenty different shades of crimson. It was easy to pretend that I was fiancée . . . it felt comfortable . . . everything about him was so familiar . . . the kiss in the desert . . . the way his cologne smelled.
"Have you two set a date?" Susan asked.
"Not yet, Mom, but you will be the first person that I tell," Woody replied as he disappeared back into the kitchen.
"I've never been to Boston . . . could I come early to stay with you? I've always wanted to go see the ocean," Susan replied excitedly . . . I felt my heart-breaking for the poor woman . . . I could see the disappointment in Woody's eyes.
"You should come out to Boston soon . . . it's most beautiful in the fall," I said smiling.