Chapter Six

Woody couldn't believe that Nigel had called and asked him to pick him at Logan. He and Nigel had never really been close, but Jordan's leaving had sort of thrown them together in an unlikely way. However, Nigel had called and was insistent that Woody meet him. So here he was now…waiting for the flight in from London.

Catching sight of the lanky Englishman at the baggage desk, Woody went over to him. "How was your trip?" he asked.

"Good. Informative," Nigel replied. "Let me get my bags and we need to talk." Nigel retrieved his luggage and walked with Woody out to the detective's car. "You'll never guess who I ran into in London."

Woody looked at Nigel carefully. "No…you didn't."

"Yes. I did. She was there, Woody."

Nigel watched the emotions play across the young man's face. Finally, regaining his voice, he asked, "How is she?"

"She's well. Thinner, perhaps. Looks like she could do with a good meal…and a good night's sleep. But okay. She's working, but not as a medical examiner right now."

"So she's living in London?"

"I don't know much, mate. Just what she told me. She's living in Europe, but not England. She was only there on a holiday. She wants to come home, but doesn't know if that will ever happen."

"We've got to make it happen, Nige."

"She misses everyone, Woody. She was nearly in tears talking about me, Bug, Lily, and Dr. Macy. She did break down when she talked about you. She misses you, Woody. She told me to tell you she did….and that she loves you."

Woody nodded, his own throat too filled with tears to reply. They drove in silence back to Nigel's apartment. As he was getting out of Woody's car, he turned to thank the detective for the ride and slid an envelope into his hand. "She said to give you this. She really misses you…I have a feeling that is the reason she doesn't look like she's resting well at night."

Woody looked at Nigel questioningly.

"I stayed with her at the hotel, Woody. She would call your name out in her sleep."

Woody swallowed hard. "Thanks…for everything, Nige."

"Don't mention it. I'm just glad I saw her."

Woody drove back to his apartment as quickly as he could. It was Saturday. He had the day off. He went up stairs, sat on his couch and stared at the envelope for a long time. He slowly opened it up and took out the sheets of paper…they smelled faintly of her perfume…her neat handwriting filled the pages. He began to read.

Dear Woody,

I hope this note finds you doing well. Nigel said you've lost weight and are working too hard. Slow down. Eat right. You need to stay healthy, so I won't worry.

I hate I had to leave that night the way I did…when I did. But you know that Baker left me no choice. He would have found a way to pin the whole Malden thing on me, despite the fact I didn't do it. And sitting in a jail cell for something I didn't do is not my idea of a life.

I'm fine. I have wanted to get in touch with you, but I knew if I did, and Baker found out about it, it may put you between a rock and a hard place. Enough time has passed that I feel I can tell you that I'm in Ireland and I'm working…trying to make a life for myself here. It's difficult…I'm sure Nigel told you I'm no longer a medical examiner, but I work in a closely related field. I miss my job at home…I miss my friends…but mostly I miss you.

I hope one day I can come back to Boston. But the people in Ireland are nice…and my work is fulfilling. But I miss you Woody. And I love you. I don't think I'll ever not love you. I also want you to know something else.

We don't know how this whole thing is going to end. I don't know if I'll ever really be able to come back to Boston and pick my life back up there. Ireland may indeed, end up being my long-term home. So after time, if you want to begin making a life for yourself without me, I want you to know I will understand. Life is too short to live on dreams…and end up alone.

I miss you terribly. I hope I can see you soon -- someway….some how. By the way, I'm sure you know by now I have your sweat pants and Boston PD t-shirt. Sorry I swiped them without asking….but I felt I needed them more than you did. I sleep in them nearly every night. I just wished they still smelled like you. It would help me sleep.

Take care of yourself…I miss you….and love you.

Jordan

Wood slid the letter back into the envelope and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Quickly making a decision, he picked up his cell phone and dialed Nigel's apartment number. Nigel answered on the second ring.

"Nige…it's Woody. Have you told anyone other than me that you've seen Jordan?"

"No. Didn't think it wise."

"Good. I don't think it is, either. Let's just keep it between you and me right now. But I was wondering….what are you doing later on tonight…say about 1 a.m.?"

"Sleeping?"

"Could you put that off for a little while and meet me in your office? I think we need to do some computer work under the DA's radar."

"Well, if it has to be under the radar, I suggest you come to my apartment…the computer in the morgue could be traced…mine at home…well, they'd have a tougher time getting to it without a warrant."

An hour later, Woody found himself back at Nigel's apartment. Nigel's home computer set up rivaled his at work…a good thing for this situation. "So what do you have, mate?" Nigel asked.

"She told me where she was at."

"Blimey…really?"

"Well at least what country…Ireland."

"So you want to try to find her?"

"I would like to know where she's at. I need to see her again."

"That may not be the wisest thing, Woody."

"To hell with Baker. He's interrupted her life…our lives." He gave Nigel Jordan's letter to him. "Read this."

Nigel let out a low whistle after he had read the pages. "So she's prepared to stay in Ireland for the long-haul, isn't she?"

Woody nodded. "And I can't let her do that. Either she's coming home….or I'm going to her."

"Ireland's a big country…to find one person."

"And if anyone can do it, you can, Nige. She's working….she had to at least give them her social security number at some point to verify her US citizenship."

Nigel nodded and booted up his computer. Within two hours, he had the answers Woody wanted. "There she is, Woody. She lives in a little village outside of Dublin. With a lady named Caroline Cavanaugh O'Malley. Must be related somehow. Teaches at the university in Dublin. Never could picture her as a teacher, but obviously she has made a good job of it."

Woody stared at the computer screen. When Nige had entered the university's web page and typed her name in the faculty search engine, her picture had popped up as well as a brief biography. She still looked the same…still beautiful…but her eyes held a lost, hunted expression.

Without hesitating another minute, Woody picked his cell phone up one more time. This time he dialed the airport and asked about flights to Ireland…