Day 80: Morgue
He watched me walk into the building . . . didn't pull away from the curb until he knew that I was inside. He wanted to walk me up to my office, but I reminded him that he was already late for work . . . he kissed my cheek . . . told me to stay out of trouble. I promised I would . . . told him that I hoped today would be an ordinary, boring day . . . he smiled . . . said that I've never had an ordinary boring day. I quipped that I hoped today would be my first.
The hallways felt a little bigger. I was glad that my first appointment of the day was with Dr. Stiles . . . low pressure . . . I had been seeing him everyday with week . . . he was impressed with how I embraced therapy. I even managed to drag Woody with me a few times . . . he said that routine and normalcy would be all it would take to get him back to normal. I didn't think that was true . . . I thought it would probably take an arrest . . . if not a violent police beating . . . I hoped that it wouldn't come to that.
I made my way to the fifth floor . . . I used to hate going to the fifth floor, but now Dr. Stiles was a comfort rather than a pain in the ass. His secretary waved me into his office . . . she was busy talking on the telephone. Her name was Marilyn . . . a sweet woman . . . she always pushed cookies or candies on me . . . said chocolate goes a long way in curing wounds of the heart. I need something stronger than that to cure the wounds to my body, mind, soul, and heart . . . I couldn't even think of a comfort food that could do any of that.
"Jordan, how are you doing this morning?" Dr. Stiles asked . . . smiling at me . . . he pushed a cup of coffee toward me, "I thought of you this morning when I was getting coffee."
"Thank you," I replied . . . graciously accepting the hot liquid.
"Are you ready to start work today?" Dr. Stiles asked . . . I knew what he was getting at . . . are you ready to face the probability of receiving bloodied roses, threatening telephone calls, or something potentially much worse.
"I need something to do . . . I need to start thinking again . . . maybe even get a little lost in my work. I need routine to fill what seems like endless hours wondering about if and when he's going to find me and kill me," I replied . . . rambling . . . sipping my coffee.
"I think work will be good for you . . . you are happiest when you are being the hero rather than the victim," Dr. Stiles replied, "Will you be going on pick-ups?"
"No. Garrett has me sequestered in the morgue . . . until an arrest is made . . . unless the is a mass casualty event," I replied, "He said that he has a few cases lined up for me . . . some bones they found in an abandoned warehouse and a floater found in the bay."
"How do you feel about that?" Dr. Stiles asked.
"I feel good about working . . . I have a new appreciation for life . . . thinking about the victims makes me a little sadder than it used to . . . now that crime has become so personal," I replied.
"How is your sadness? Are the antidepressants helping you?" Dr. Stiles asked as he scribbled a few notes on my chart.
"It's getting better . . . some days are good, others are bad. I can't watch the news anymore . . .I'm sick of seeing that damn composite . . . it sickens me to know that all of Massachusetts knows that I was tortured and raped," I replied . . . that was a particular sore spot for me . . . I had been publicly I had been labeled a victim and weak.
"Understandable. How are you and Woody doing?" Dr. Stiles asked . . . giving me that sympathetic smile that I had grown to hate.
"Good . . . better once we both get back to work. He's been a little stir crazy . . . a little paranoid about leaving me alone . . . more angry," I replied.
"Do you understand why he feels that way?" he asked me.
"I do. It's the same way I felt about my mother . . . I used to cling to my father before he would leave for work . . . terrified that something would happen to him . . . he would be murdered too. I'm still angry," I replied.
"Is Woody going back to work today too?"
"He's doing some light duty for a week or so before Eddie is going to put him back out on the street," I replied.
"Is there a reason why?"
"He's angry . . . Eddie doesn't want him to arrest who ever did this. Eddie and I are both pretty sure that the guy wouldn't live to see another day. I understand why he is so angry . . . what do I do to make pass faster?"
"Wait . . . be patient . . . talk . . . be open with yourself. That will probably bring him around. How is your relationship?"
"Better . . . it's good when he loosens up. He yelled at me yesterday for squeezing the toothpaste from the center not the end . . . we spent about an hour bantering . . . point out these ridiculous imperfections that we both have. He started laughing. We started cooking supper together in the evenings . . . he seems really happy when he's in the kitchen . . . it relaxes him . . . gives him a chance to rib me about how I can't cook at all," I replied . . . smiling as I think about how we have successfully managed to live in harmony for a week . . . despite all the tensions consuming out lives.
"Have you been intimate with him?"
"I'm not ready for that . . . it's not that I have flashbacks of the rape . . . I don't remember a damn thing about that . . . I don't want to remember anything about that. It's more like I can't get used to my body . . . it's all foreign to me. I look different in the mirror . . . much skinnier . . . and I still have a chest tube wound that is healing slower than hell . . . a few bruises that don't seem to want to fade. I don't feel comfortable with myself . . . so I don't feel comfortable with anyone seeing me like this."
"Have you talked to him about resuming your intimate relationship?" Dr. Stiles asked . . . the way he danced around the words threatened to make me laugh . . . it was this sweetness that I never had seen in him before.
"Yes . . . he said that he understands . . . he's been so patient with me . . . never asking for anything from me."
"Let's talk about how you are going to ease back into your own skin," Dr. Stiles prompted.
"I'm going to go back to work . . . start rebuilding my life. I'm going to start spending time with my family . . . I'm going to start living the way that I should have been living for the last few years. Woody and I are going to Kewaunee for Christmas," I replied.
"Jordan, I can't believe how much you have grown up . . . I think you are going to be okay," Dr. Stiles said with a smile.
I was beginning to think that I was going to be okay.
Day 80: Boston PD (Woody's POV)
"Hey you want to go on a very special arrest?" Eddie said smiling as he poked his head into my office . . . I had been banished to cold case files for a week . . . I was about to take a stack of them over to the Pogue . . . Max and I were going to entertain ourselves for a few hours.
"I thought I was on desk duty for a week," I replied . . . I felt tired . . . I would wake up almost hourly to check on Jordan . . . make sure that the apartment was empty.
"My informant . . . he gave me a name to match the composite. All signs are pointing to Alonso Demani . . . the guy used to be a bounty hunter . . . apparently, he got a reputation for being to rough with criminals. Word is that he started working as a hit man," Eddie rambled, "No guns for you . . . you are going to sit in a squad and watch. You are in no circumstances to get within fifty feet of this guy."
"I'm ready to go," I replied . . . pulling on my suit jacket . . . handing my gun to Eddie . . . I knew that there was no way I should be hanging on to it . . . there was a good chance that I would shoot now, ask questions later.
The ride through the suburbs seemed to take forever. Eddie was trying to make small talk . . . asked about Jordan and Max. I wasn't interested in talking . . . I was more interested in getting this guy into the station and getting a DNA sample from him.
Alonso's house was like any other house on the block . . . toys scattered on the front yard . . . little yellow house with white shudders . . . even a white picket fence on the lot line. It seemed so normal . . . so respectable. It seemed wrong that he lived what looked like such a normal lifestyle. I watched the multitude of squads surround the house . . . I sat glued to my seat . . . I didn't feel anything . . . I mistakenly thought that I would feel satisfaction . . . I felt nothing. It was like watching a movie unfold right in front of my eyes. I watched Eddie wave the swat team in . . . Eddie said something about surveillance on the house . . . he should be here alone.
The man put up one hell of a fight . . . he lobbed bullets through windows at the officers . . . I watched two hours of negotiations and gun fire unfold . . . I had barely moved an inch. I wanted to see his face . . . I was deathly scared that he would take his own life . . . I wanted just for Jordan . . . I didn't want him to wind up in her morgue.
I wondered just how much ammunition Alonso kept in the house . . . the gun fire seemed endless . . . short intermissions were taken to talk to the negotiator. Alonso demands were simple . . . he wanted to see his wife before he surrendered . . . he said that he would talk . . . he just needed to see his family. He also wanted to talk to Ellington . . . I knew that he was looking for a way out . . . he thought Ellington would be able to save him. Little did I know, Ellington was being dragged out of his penthouse and thrown into a squad car . . . it was Ellington's turn to justify his actions. Eddie did a damn good job of keeping Jordan and I out of the loop . . . I knew didn't want her to have to see any of this . . . he didn't want either of us watching the interrogations . . . too much information . . . too many things that would break open the wounds that were just beginning to heal.
The woman was beautiful . . . she had long black hair that glimmered in the sun. She walked up to my side of the squad car . . . motioned for me to roll down the window.
"Are you Detective Winslow?" she asked politely . . . she looked terrified out of her mind.
"No, I'm Detective Hoyt . . . can I help you?" I replied . . . her mouth formed a small 'o' . . . she blanched white as a ghost.
"I'm so sorry . . . I didn't know who he was working with . . . I didn't know about any of this . . . I should have turned him in sooner," the woman said as she began to sob hysterically . . . it was his wife . . . she looked genuinely upset . . . not upset about her husband being found out, but upset about having to see one of the people who's life was nearly ruined by her husband.
"Mrs. Demani . . . let's go find the negotiator . . . your husband wants to talk to you before he is arrested," I said as I got out of the squad . . . walked her over to the old man on a cell phone with Alonso. I couldn't help but listen as she talked to him . . . saying that it was time to give up . . . saying that she was sorry she turned him in . . . saying sweet things about loving him . . . but what he did was wrong . . . he hurt so many people . . . he wasn't going to hurt her or his daughter. She became angry . . . confronting him about the rape . . . saying that she always protected him . . . saying that she stuck up for him each time her niece said Alonso did 'bad things' to her. Eva told him that it was time to be rehabilitated . . . or he would never see her or their daughter again. It sickened me to hear her story . . . I began to gag as she talked about her niece . . . I needed to excuse myself . . . before I vomited. I walked back to Eddie's squad . . . sat on the curb next to the car . . . emptied my stomach onto a sewer grate . . . it didn't make me feel better . . . I just kept thinking about Jordan . . . hoping that her day was going better than mine.
Day 80: Morgue – 3 pm
"Jordan, are you ready to head home for the day?" Nigel asked as he walked into my office . . . I was looking at crime scene photos . . . trying to figure out the story behind my skeleton.
"Yeah, just waiting for Woody," I replied smiling . . . I was feeling good today . . . it felt good to be a productive member of the team again.
"You knight in bullet-proof armor on a stand-off . . . he wanted me to take you home," Nigel said . . . his voice a little shaky . . . he was pretending to be okay with protecting me.
"Let's go get a pizza and rent a movie," I suggested, "Interview with a Vampire."
"Sweet Nancy . . . you are the best girl on Earth. You really know how to take the pressure off," Nigel said smiling . . . he kissed me on the cheek . . . helped me out of my chair.
"You do know that it's not your fault . . . I'm just happy you are okay . . . that we are both okay," I replied, "That's all the matters to me . . . I just want everyone to make it home safe at night."
"Jordan, thank you," Nigel said as he took my satchel from me . . . we walked hand in hand down the hallway.
"For what?"
"Not blaming me . . . for being brave," Nigel replied as we waited for the elevator.
"Thank you for trying to bring me justice. We need to celebrate . . . my first day of freedom," I replied smiling . . . feeling like I used to . . . free.
"Mushroom and tomatoes," Nigel said smiling . . . his hair was in a ponytail . . . the same way that mine was . . . it hid the stitches.
"Pepperoni and green peppers," I replied.
"I missed you," Nigel replied.
I missed me too.