Beth Israel Deaconess Hospital – 5 am (Woody's POV)
I felt sick . . . one of the emergency room nurses had given me scrubs to change into . . . Jordan's blood had permeated my clothes . . . it was on my cheek . . . all over my arms and hands. I sit watching her in the ER trauma room . . . a perky nurse kept telling me that there would be an ICU bed for her soon.
I could barely remember the events of the last hour . . . I followed the ambulance closely . . . arriving only minutes after Jordan was brought into the trauma room. They let me wait by the door . . . I watched the doctors and nurses put in tubes and IVs. A machine was breathing for Jordan . . . another machine was preventing her lung from collapsing. She looked like a ghost of herself.
"I thought you could use this," Garret said as he handed me a cup of coffee . . . I wasn't concerned about anything besides Jordan . . . the rich, bitter scent was making me more nauseated than I already was.
"Garret . . . it's not good. She was beaten pretty badly," I said, "Where's Max?"
"He's having a hard time coming into the hospital . . . once you are here . . . it all seems real," Garret said as he stared at Jordan . . . crisp white linens accentuated the paleness of her skin.
"Did the doctors say anything?" Garret asked.
"I didn't understand much . . . right now we have to wait for someone to die for her to get an ICU bed . . . something about the census being really high," I replied bitterly.
"I'll go talk to the doctors . . . Eddie is in the lobby. He needs to question you," Garret said . . . he rested a hand on my shoulder before walking towards the nurses station.
I walked out into the lobby. I scanned the crowd for someone in a green polo shirt . . . brown hair . . . light complexion . . . I knew it wouldn't be that easy. Eddie sat in the corner . . . his head in his hands . . . Max sat next to him . . . he was breathing heavily . . . looked like he was in a trance.
"Max, you should go see her," I said as I sat next to him.
"Woody, how bad . . . how bad does my baby girl look?" Max asked . . . his hands trembled as he scanned the room.
"Bad, but she's still fighting. You should go see her . . . she needs her dad right now," I said . . . I helped Max to his feet . . . this was the first time I saw him as a feeble, old man . . . he looked lost . . . a nurse came over to help him to his daughter.
"You know . . . Woody, I have to ask you some questions," Eddie said, "The scene this morning . . . it wasn't well preserved . . . I just need to know . . . I need to know what happened."
"I opened the door . . . there she was. Crumpled in a ball . . . she was cold to the touch . . . she was barely breathing . . . her pulse was weak. I called 911 . . . waited with her for the paramedics," I said . . . staring at the tile.
"The doctor called the precinct . . . when did you and Jordan . . . last have intercourse?" Eddie asked . . . looking at the ground . . . he couldn't look at me . . . I couldn't look at him.
"Two . . . three days ago . . . I don't know. She wasn't, was she?" I asked . . . the words getting caught in my throat on the way out . . . the words were competing with the nausea.
"Yeah . . . the doctor thinks that she was," Eddie said pausing to clear his throat, "The doctor thinks that she was sexually assaulted."
I could feel my heart stop . . . I could feel my knees weaken . . . had I been standing upright, I would be laying on the ground now. As if being beaten wasn't enough . . . he had to rape her too.
"Did you want to call someone to take you home?" Eddie offered me his cell phone.
"No, I want to stay . . . I'll need some time off from work," I replied . . . dazed to the surroundings.
"Just let me know when you are ready to come back. Hoyt, call if you need anything . . . absolutely anything . . . maybe just call to let everyone know that you and Jordan are okay," Eddie rambled he put his hand on my knee . . . I knew immediately that he forgot to asked me for my DNA . . . maybe he didn't forget . . . maybe he just figured that this wasn't the right time to ask . . . you don't ask someone who is covered in their girlfriend's blood . . . not by their own doing.
I walked back to the trauma room . . . the nurses were getting ready to move her. I stood next to Max and Garret both transfixed by the sight of her . . . the bruises becoming black against her skin . . . the redness of the blood that was being transfused into her body . . . the striking contrast of chestnut hair and ivory skin. We watched them wheel her and everything that was attached to her out into the hallway . . . they needed to make a quick stop at the CT scanner first . . . then she would be settled in the MICU on the third floor . . . we could go up to the family area and wait. I wanted to go with her . . . I wanted to go with her anywhere she went.
Max leaned heavily on the wall . . . I watched helplessly . . . I wasn't sure where to go . . . Garret said something about the third floor. Max and I followed him . . . he was the only one that was thinking right now.
Beth Israel – 10 am (Woody's POV)
I feel like I'm drowning . . . the water is red . . . I am inches below the surface, but I cannot swim to the surface. I see her . . . she's calling for me, but I cannot pull myself out of the water. I wake . . . my heart is pounding . . . my mouth is dry . . . I'm gasping for air.
I scan the room . . . Max is passed out in a chair on the other side of Jordan's bed . . . he's holding her hand . . . desperately clutching her hand. I had her other hand wrapped in mine . . . I lay my head on her bed . . . resting my head on her arm. I whisper a short prayer . . . I'll do anything if you let her wake up . . . I would do anything . . . I don't care what . . . I would give my life for her.
Momentarily, I wish that I was in the house with her last night . . . I would have given my life to save her. I never felt like that about anyone before . . . besides my parents. I reached for my cell phone . . . I dialed home . . . I knew I was violating code . . . it was a police issued cell phone . . . I'm sure they would let this slide . . . this wasn't an ordinary situation.
"Hello," my mom said . . . she sounded so cheery . . . just hearing her voice was an immense comfort . . . I wasn't sure what to say to her.
"Hi, Mom," I said . . . my voice was still audibly shaky.
"Woodrow, I hadn't expected to hear from so soon. Is something wrong?" she asked . . . it was out of the ordinary for me to call her in the middle of the day . . . I was normally at work.
"Mom, there's a lot that's wrong," I whispered . . . the words were stuck in my throat . . . I was dangerously close to crying.
"Woodrow, what's wrong?" Mom replied . . . she sounded more concerned.
"Jordan . . . Jordan was attacked last night . . . someone beat her and raped her. Mom, I'm not sure if she's going to be okay," I whispered . . . the tears were falling down my cheeks . . . the air in my lungs seemed to rapidly expand . . . making my chest hurt.
"Oh, honey . . . what can I do?" she asked . . . I didn't know what to say.
"Mom, I don't know . . . I don't know if anything would make this better," I whispered.
"Woodrow . . . I'll pray for her . . . I'll pray for you too. Honey, are you going to be okay?" she asked.
"I don't know, Mom. You know . . . I love you so much. I know I don't say it enough, but I want you to know how much I love you," I said . . . the tears falling a little faster now.
"I love you too. I need to get out to the barn, but I'm going to call you later. Woodrow, I love you so much," she said . . . I told her that I loved her too.
I picked up her hand . . . kissed each finger . . . I noticed something funny about her pinky . . . there was a large clump of . . . it was skin. I frantically dialed Peter . . . I tried to explain to him what I thought I found . . . it was wedged against her skin . . . . but it might be evidence. Little did I know . . . Peter was sitting in the parking lot . . . he had been sitting there for fifteen minutes . . . he was thinking about Dalton Park . . . what it was like to hold her while waiting for the paramedics. I went to the family room . . . I woke Garret . . . he insisted on staying for a few hours . . . he wanted the results of the CT scan and the EEG.
"Woody, I thought they took scrapings in the ER?" Garret said . . . he sent the nurse running for the equipment necessary to collect the skin . . . Garret put on a pair of latex gloves and began to inspect the rest of her fingers.
"I thought they did . . . even when she's in a coma, she's sequestering evidence," I said it without thinking . . . it made me smile . . . just thinking about all the times I tried to get her to explain her rationale . . . . she always made me play the role-playing game . . . that game gave me nightmares . . . I hated it, but she loved the thrill of getting into the killer's mind . . . to find out what the driving instincts were.
"That would be Jordan," Garret said cracking a smile.
"Do you think she can hear us?" I asked Garret.
"I'd like to think that she can . . . she's probably thinking that we are idiots for not making sure that all her fingernails were scraped. Jord, you've got to wake up . . . I don't know what to do without you running the show," Garret said as he washed her hands . . . pulled off his latex gloves, "You hungry?"
"No," I replied.
"Neither am I. Max should eat something . . . his diabetes . . . he should go home for a few hours. You should too," Garret replied.
"I want to stay . . . it doesn't feel right going home . . . I don't know if I can go home yet . . . not until the hallway is cleaned up," I rambled.
"Does it matter if it's cleaned up . . . it's still in your head," Garret commented . . . it was the rules that Jordan operated under . . . her mother's murder was in her head . . . it would always be preserved there . . . I was pretty sure that twenty years from now today would still be in my head . . . they don't make bleach for the mind.
"Jesus . . . how is she?" Peter asked . . . he was frozen in the doorway.
"Holding her own. The EEG shows brain activity . . . the CT doesn't show any brain abnormalities. Hopefully . . . it's only a matter of time before she's awake," Garret explained.
"I went to see Nigel . . . he's being discharged. He wants to come up here . . . Lily is trying to convince him to go home," Peter said.
"I should go back down to the ER . . . the scrapings are on the bedside table. Woody, go home . . . get yourself cleaned up . . . get something to eat . . . then come back," Garret instructed . . . he left the room . . . trying to deal with multiple crises at once.
"How's Max doing?" Peter asked . . . he stayed in the doorway.
"Tired . . . scared. He's been sleeping for about an hour," I replied . . . I rubbed my eyes.
"How are you doing?"
"I don't know . . . how's Nigel?" I asked trying to shift the direction of the conversation.
"He's worried about Jordan . . . not really thinking about the huge bruise on his head. The only time he cared about his injury is when they had to shave off part of his hair," Peter replied.
"I'm glad he's okay . . . they both were really lucky," I replied.
"Nigel a little more than Jordan. I should go run those scrapings . . . you'll call with news, right?" Peter asked.
"Sure. Make sure you get whoever did this," I said as Peter was leaving.
Beth Israel 7 pm (Garret's POV)
I had finally talked Max into going home for a little bit . . . I was hoping he was so tired that he would fall asleep and lose track of time. Woody was in the family room sleeping . . . Lily went to his apartment to get clothes for him to wear . . . something less sterile. She said that the carpet was being cleaned when she got there. He asked me to hold his cell phone . . . his mom was going to call . . . she wanted updates on Jordan. I gladly obliged as long as he would try to get some meaningful sleep . . . Jordan's doctor offered him some valium . . . I told him to accept . . . it would lull him into a deeper, more restful sleep.
I sat next to Jordan . . . listening to the machines beep. They all beeped at different times . . . I couldn't imagine being surrounded by this everyday . . . I didn't know how the doctors did it. The noise was unnerving . . . the inane rate of movement in the ICU floored me. The lady in the cubical across from us . . . she coded . . . I watched as they did CPR . . . injected her with a multitude of drugs . . . they defibrillated her three times. The doctors filed out of the cubical . . . defeat . . . I could hear the relatives cry . . . they had seen it all . . . the woman was thirty-eight years old . . . endocarditis. They had talked to me earlier in the afternoon . . . said I was a new face . . . asked how my wife was doing. I told them that she was my sister . . . she was holding her own . . . Irish . . . she wouldn't give up without one hell of a fight. The woman's family was hopeful . . . only to have all their hopes shattered later in the afternoon.
I read to Jordan . . . stupid articles from US magazine . . . paparazzi. I was sure that for every article I read her . . . I was making her dumber. Jordan didn't know the first thing about pop culture or television . . . if she could hear me, I gave her her first crash course. I read articles from Cosmopolitian Magazine to her . . . I didn't understand a damn thing in that magazine . . . two hundred dollar skirts . . . I complained about the content of the articles . . . I was sure that somewhere in her mind she was begging me to stop telling her about miniskirts and how to create beach hair without going to the beach. Jordan wasn't that type of girl . . . she was very organic . . . organic was the only way to describe her . . . you got what you saw.
Woody's phone startled me . . . I didn't recognize the number on the display. I had never seen a telephone number from a 920 area code . . . I figured it was his family calling to check on him and Jordan.
His mother sounded sweet . . . I immediately knew where he got that disposition from. Susan said she was at Logan Airport . . . she wondered where Jordan was . . . if Woodrow was still with her. I told her that I would send someone to pick her up in front of one of the concourses . . . just sit tight. I called Lily . . . she was surprised to hear that Woody's mother was here . . . he never talked about his family. Lily said she would make sure that Susan got here safely.
I didn't wake Woody . . . he needed to sleep. I wanted to sleep, but I needed to be the pillar of the family for a few more hours . . . I would turn that position over to Max or Lily in a few hours. I needed to head to the morgue . . . she if any progress had been made today. I told Emmy to call in all my favors . . . bring in any medical examiner she could find to help us stay on top of the routine autopsies. I wished I could hang a sign on the door saying 'gone fishing . . . be back later.'
"Garret, I'm Susan . . . it's good to see you in person," Woody's mom said as she entered the cubical . . . it startled me . . . she hugged me . . . tried to smile . . . she had this jolly look to her face . . . the soft lines on her face . . . smile lines . . . the warmth in her blue eyes . . . the same piercing blue as Woody's eyes, "How's she doing?"
"She's in a coma . . . she'll probably be like this for a few days," I replied. She leaned over Jordan . . . kissed her on the forehead . . . one of the only places not littered with tubes and IVs.
"What happened to Jordan? Woodrow won't tell me," Susan said as she sat next to Jordan . . . pulled out three huge bundles of yarn and began crocheting . . . my grandmother did that when she was nervous . . . I guess it must be some form of therapy.
"She was working on a case with Woody . . . they found too much incriminating evidence on some really public politicians," I explained.
"I'll never understand people," she commented.
"Neither will I," I replied.