Woody watched Jordan as she slept on the couch. She wouldn't go back upstairs to sleep. Said she wouldn't until Meghan came home. Hell, it was hard enough to get her to give up and just get some rest. He had finally made her take some of the medicine that Dr. Stiles had left for her. She needed to sleep. So did he...but he still had a myriad of things to do before he could doze for a little while.

Meghan. Of all the ways to spell the name, leave it to Jordan to prefer the Irish version. He smiled slightly. In a way he felt like he had gotten to know his daughter tonight. A daughter he had been denied seven years. How would she take it, knowing she had a father now? Jordan said she had just begun to ask questions...Would she think that he had abandoned her and her mother all these years, and just suddenly show up now? Woody loosened his tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He had been on his computer for hours, searching his data bases...going over potential leads that had been e-mailed to him. He had gotten a couple of good ones, but wasn't about to share them with anyone yet...least of all Jordan. Not until he had gotten some substantial proof that his hunch was correct. If he was right, Jordan was not in any way to blame. He was. And the guilt was nearly eating him alive. He would make the kidnappers pay...and pay dearly. But until they phoned again, he couldn't be sure...and he wasn't about to risk guessing.

Grimly, he settled down in easy chair to try to get some rest before day broke. Jordan was curled up on the couch. He wished he could go to her...give her some good news...hold her. In a way he couldn't blame her for not trying harder to find him. The way he left Boston...and her...gave her reason to think twice. Add to that the fact that he had never phoned...never e-mailed her...to see if she was okay. He knew he didn't use a condom that night...he had been too tipsy to think about it. He took it for granted that perhaps she had used something...Truth was, once the clothes began to come off, neither one of them thought clearly for hours...hell, he hadn't for days.

She would never know how hard it was for him to leave her that morning...turn and walk out of her apartment, thinking then, that he wouldn't ever see her again. Why didn't he just turn around and stay in her bedroom? Wake up with her....hold her again? He sighed and shifted in the chair to try to gain a more comfortable position. If he had, he probably would not only know his daughter, but also be married to her mother. Not an unpleasant thought. And there'd probably be another little Hoyt or two running around to keep Meghan company.

"If you're uncomfortable, the guest room is made up," Jordan said from the couch. She had heard him shift around in the chair.

"No, that's okay. I need to be near the phone and my computer... and I don't want to leave you down here by yourself."

Jordan sighed. "It's a long night, isn't it Woody? I keep worrying about her....is she warm ... how scared is she? Did she have dinner? Why did they take her? Is it because of a case I worked on? Is it something I did?" Woody heard her try to stifle back the sobs that were beginning to find their place in her throat again. He pulled himself up out of the chair, went over to her, and took her in his arms.

"Jo, she's going to be fine...I've got my contacts all over the map on this one."

"Any luck?"

"Yeah. Some promising stuff. We just need to wait until the kidnappers call back." He held her for a minute and stroked her hair.

"Do you think she's okay, Woody?"

"I don't know. All we can do is hope."

The morning was a fog. More officers. More dusting for prints. Garrett raised the issue of going on the news and talking to the kidnappers that way. Woody quickly vetoed that idea. If the kidnappers were who he thought they were, that would have no effect. It may make them mad. He insisted that they wait for the next phone call. It finally came right after lunch. Jordan picked up the phone.

"Dr. Cavanaugh...so nice talking with you again," said a voice from the receiver.

"Where's my daughter?" Jordan had asked.

"She's with us..."

"Is she safe?"

"She's safe and warm and been fed."

"I don't believe you."

"Really?"

Woody motioned for Jordan to keep them talking to see if the trace would work on the wiretap.

"Really, I don't."

"Well, let's see. I know that there's probably a wiretap on this line right now Dr. Cavanaugh. And I know that they're want you to keep me on the line as long as possible to see if the tracer will kick in and reveal my location. And that's a problem."

"Why's that?"

"Well, because we thought of that...and we've got a blocker on our phone. A very sophisticated blocker. So we can talk all night and the Boston PD will be none the wiser...neither will the FBI.

Now Woody was startled. No one knew he was in town. No one knew he had engaged the FBI to help with the search for Meghan.

"I want to talk to Meghan," Jordan said, her voice breaking just a bit.

"Certainly...we'll be glad to let you speak with her." There was rustle and Jordan heard her daughter on the phone. Woody was listening through his headset.

"Mom?"

"I'm right here, honey."

"Mom...I'm scared and I want to come home."

Jordan's heart was breaking... "I know, Sweetie. I'm doing everything they ask me to...I'll get you home soon. Are you okay? Have they hurt you?"

"No...they haven't hurt me, Mom. I'm okay. I miss you. I want to come home."

"I love you, Meghan."

The next voice on the line was the kidnappers. "Dr. Cavanaugh...if you want your daughter back, you must listen very carefully and do exactly what we tell you to do."

"I will."

"We want you to come to an empty parking lot at 3296 South Elm St. Do you know where that is?"

"Yes..."

"Good. Tomorrow night, 10 o'clock, you need to be there and wait outside the phone booth on the north side of the parking lot. Pick up the phone on the second ring. You'll receive further instructions."

"How will I know you'll follow through with this? How will I know you won't hurt Meghan?"

"Dr. Cavanaugh, I can tell you, we really have no interest in your daughter. We did this to get someone's attention."

"Who's? Mine?"

"No....her father's."

Jordan looked at Woody. She was speechless. How did they know? How could they know? Only her father, Garrett, Nigel, Bug, Lily, and Peter had known who was Meghan's dad. And why did they want Woody's attention?

"Her father's?" she questioned. "I'm a single mom."

She heard soft laughter. "I know you are, Dr. Cavanaugh. But everyone has a father, and Meghan's just happens to be Special Agent Hoyt. I'm sure he knows by now he has a daughter, because you've told him... get him to help find her. And I'm sure he knows why she was taken...he may tell you if you ask him. Be sure he comes with you tomorrow night to the parking lot. Meanwhile, you get some rest. Meghan will be fine, and if Special Agent Hoyt behaves himself, you will be reunited with your daughter very soon. I promise she will be well taken care of until then. Good night, Dr. Cavanaugh." And the line went dead.

Jordan hung up the phone and turned to Woody. "What have you done," she quietly asked, "that would put our little girl's life in jeopardy?"