Chapter Four

It took her three days to build up the courage to go to Woody's apartment. For three days she coached herself through what to say, with Dr. Stiles providing the basic script and telling her to "ad lib where your heart tells you to." For three days, she tried to see Woody on a daily basis just to confirm that her eyes were telling her brain what it was seeing was real.

Finally, on a Wednesday evening, after she had gone home from work and showered, she found herself at his apartment door. His car was in his slot in the parking deck, so he was home. She nervously wiped her hands down her black jeans before getting up the courage to knock. She had spent an abnormal amount of time on her hair and make up. She wasn't aware what her ridiculous reason was for making sure she looked good, but she was careful to wear something she knew he liked, as well as leaving her hair wavy. With her courage wavering, but her intentions intact, she raised her hand and knocked at his door. It took a minute or two, but finally the door swung open.

"Jordan? What are you doing here?" he asked. The look of astonishment on his face said it all. She was the last person he expected to show up on his doorstep tonight.

"Can I come in?" she replied, softly but firmly. "I need to talk to you."

"Look, Jo, if it's about my injury, or about Devan, or even if by the remotest of chances it's about us, the answer is no. I really don't feel like it tonight. It's been a long day. I'm tired. I want to get a shower and go to bed. Alone."

Jordan pushed past him into his living room. "No. It's not anything about any of those." She turned to face him when she was in the middle of his apartment. "It's about you."

Woody slammed the door, leaned against it, and crossed his arms. "What about me?"

"You haven't been acting like yourself lately. I'm worried about you, Woody."

"I've been through a lot. You…Deven ….the shooting….it takes a toll on a man."

"I know…but there's something else….there's still something that's not quite right."

"Well, then, what is it?"

Throughout the entire conversation, Jordan had been careful to keep her voice soft and non-confrontational. She wanted Woody to realize she was here because she genuinely cared about him and his welfare…not because she was getting ready to call him on the carpet for any wrongdoing. Taking a deep breath and making sure her courage was firmly in place, she said it: "I think you're taking too much Oxycotin."

Biting out a laugh, Woody asked, "What makes you think that? I was given that prescription months ago."

"I know. That's what makes me so scared, Woody."

"Scared? Why should you be scared, Jordan?"

"I told you that the medication was strong…it was easy to get addicted. You're at a low point in your life. It could have helped fill the void that Devan left…help ease the pain."

"Void? What the hell do you know about voids?" He pushed away from the door and stalked over to her, towering above her shorter frame. "What suddenly makes you the expert on what it feels to lose someone forever?" his voice lowered to a growl…a tone that Jordan had never heard before. It hit the base of her spine and sent a shiver all the way up it.

Swallowing hard, she replied, "I do know a thing or two about losing someone you love."

Woody instantly felt about two inches tall. Her mother. In his pain, he had forgotten that Jordan had swum an ocean of grief all her own by herself. He looked down at his bare feet, the shame he felt showing in his reddening cheeks. He didn't notice she had moved out of the living room into his kitchen. He heard her opening cabinet doors. "Hey. Wait. What are you doing?"

"Where is it, Woody?"

"Where's what?"

Jordan gave him a look that plainly told him to quit lying to her. She had been lied to enough in her life. He shook his head and sullenly crossed his arms again.

"You know what I'm talking about." Her voice was still low, despite the anger she felt rising in her. She slid the coffee cups around in his cupboard until she spied the half-empty bottle of Oxycotin. Looking at the label, she confirmed her fears. The fill date was less than a month ago. "Where's the rest?"

"That's it."

Giving him a disbelieving shrug, she continued to search. Now Woody sprang to life. "No…don't do that…You have no right…."

Ignoring him, she continued to look…through the flour…through the dishes…finally in the coffee canister in the freezer. She found three more full bottles….all with fill dates within a few weeks of each other…all from different pharmacies….all from different doctors. Looking at the four bottles in her hand, she stared at Woody in sheer horror… "How could you….Woody….you know what this stuff does to you….you're a cop."

Woody lunged for her. Jordan managed to move out of the way, but he went for the bottles again, this time knocking them out of her hands. Bottles and Oxycotin spilled all over the kitchen floor, with the two of them struggling to get at the drugs. Woody finally lifted his hand to push her away at the same time Jordan made a move for some of the pills. His hand struck her across the face,throwing her to the ground.

They both paused…in total shock. Jordan lifted a trembling hand to her cheek and eye…that were already turning red from the impact. Woody was staring at her…horrified at what he had done…he had never raised a hand to a woman…not even a crime suspect….ever. And now, in his desperation to get at his pills, he had struck her…of all people. Her. It was over now. Anything they had was truly over….even friendship. How could she still care now? Hesitantly, he reached out his hand again and saw her flinch. "Jordan…I…never….I didn't mean…honest…" He slowly bent down to examine her face…in his haze of confusion and embarrassment, he never saw it coming. She caught him with a good right hook and knocked him out cold.

"You weren't supposed to render him unconscious," said Dr. Stiles. Jordan had called him after she had hit Woody.

"Yeah. Well. Desperate times call for desperate measures….and I was desperate. He's a hell of a lot bigger than I am," Jordan replied from the bathroom where she was methodically flushing all the Oxycotin down the toilet.

"How's your eye and cheek?"

"Bruising…sore….but I'll live."

"Have you got his things packed?"

"Yeah. They're by the door, ready to go."

Woody moaned from the kitchen. Jordan and Dr. Stiles walked back over to him. He was slowly coming around….his eyes showing a haze of confusion. "Wha…." He asked, gingerly holding his jaw. Damn. She could throw a punch. He sternly reminded himself next time to let her take the pills and leave. He could always get more.

"I believe she decked you," said Dr. Stiles, still keeping some distance between himself and Woody.

"Stiles…what are you doing here?"

"Jordan called me last week. She's been worried about you. We've talked quite a bit about you and your….situation this week."

"What did she tell you?"

"Just a little of this and a little of that…enough that we were able to put a pretty good picture together about what was wrong with you."

Woody grimaced and turned his head away.

"It's like this Farm Boy," Jordan said, standing over Woody…this time towering over his prone body. "You're coming home with me. Dr. Stiles and I are going to get you clean…get you off the Oxycotin. Then you can go on with your life."

"I can't…I have to go to work."

"Ah. But we're ahead of you there. I have a friend in human relations in the PD," said Dr. Stiles. "I applied for your vacation time…in your name, of course, this week. You've now got three weeks off, with pay. Your boss thinks you've gone back to Kewannee…to fish. They'll never know you're detoxing."

Woody looked at the doctor like he had lost his mind. "You're crazy…you know that?"

"Well, that subject has thoroughly been debated…but I don't think I am. I do think you're in serious trouble, son. And I think Jordan wants to try to help you out of it."

Woody then looked at Jordan closely. He could see the bruising on her face. Bruising that he had caused. He swallowed hard. "Jordan…I'm …."

"Save it, Farm Boy. You're going home with me. We're going to get you clean."

"But…"

"There's no but's, Woody. Either you do this, or I'm going straight to the chief and tell him," Jordan said.

"You'd ruin me….for good ….I'd never be able to get a job in any police force."

She nodded. "I know….but at least you'd be alive."