Chapter Three

Jordan said nothing to anyone for the next month. But the she continued getting cards…sometimes several a week…and she still felt like she was being watched. And the brown-haired man continued to occasionally show up in the parking deck…and follow her out in his blue Ford. On one level, she kept telling herself it all was mere coincidence… The man…the cards…just like her mother's locket being taken from her apartment. But on another level…the ME/investigator level, something entirely different was going on. Her gut kept telling her it was all linked. But she didn't know who to tell…or who would believe her.

Jordan sighed to herself. The only person she remotely felt safe in telling right now was Garret, and she wasn't sure what his reaction would be. On a professional level, they still worked well together. But through the years, Garret had gotten tired of her running, her conspiracy theories…her relentless pursuit of cases that sometimes crossed the boundaries of being a ME. The last case that she had crossed the line on had garnered her a reprimand from the district attorney and put her on probation at the office. She was afraid if she told Garret, the probation would be revoked…and she'd be fired. Something she could not afford to happen.

She hadn't felt the same amount of fear about the cards as she did about the man in the parking deck. Until the last several that crossed her desk. The previous cards had been almost admiring in content…you're pretty…you're sweet…I like you….lately though, the tone had changed. They had gotten more direct…more threatening. I'm watching you…I want you…and most recently I know where you live. Jordan's heart had dropped to the bottom of her shoes with that one. Finally, swallowing her pride, she took the card and made her way to Woody's office.

Jordan knew he had given up on her. When he finally had said goodbye, he had told her in no uncertain terms that he was upset with her. On several levels. On the job, he was tired of her butting in on his cases. Personally, he was tired of waiting…tired of being led on and then pushed away. Tired of wanting something and someone he never thought he would have. They had managed not to work together since…Woody going out of his way to alert Garret that he had "issues" with Jordan on a professional level. After the reprimand from the DA, Garret had agreed.

But still, when Jordan thought about it, Woody was one of the best detectives she had ever worked with. And despite whatever had happened between then, she felt the safest with Woody. He had always gone out of his way to protect her…and keep her safe. She only hoped now that the remotest of these feelings remained…and that he would at least tell her what she needed to do.

Gathering her courage, she softly tapped on his office door. Her heart dropped again when she heard him say, "Come in." Gingerly she pushed the door open and managed to get out a wavering, "Hi."

Woody looked up from the file he had been studying. His eyes looked at her coolly, as if sizing up any situation that could possibly bring her back to his office. "Jordan. What can I do for you?" he asked, his eyes returning to his file.

"I have a problem, Woody…."

"It it's with a case, I can't help you."

"No. No, it's not about a case, it's about me."

Woody looked back up at her from his file. "That could go into several areas, Jordan. What area do you want to discuss today?"

It was then she knew she couldn't do it. She couldn't tell him…not and bear his possible ridicule that she was making a mountain out of the proverbial mold hill again. She was a fool to think that he might help her or even remotely care again. Getting up out of the chair in his office, she backed towards the door. "You know…just forget it. It wasn't important anyway…Thanks for your time."

"Whatever you say, Jordan," Woody replied, now looking back down at the file in front of him, never taking his eyes off it as she went out the door.

She closed his door and walked back to her own office and shoved the card in the bottom file drawer with the rest. She knew she was on her own with this situation.

She had an alarm system installed in her apartment. She made sure her car doors stayed locked – both when she was in the vehicle and out of the vehicle. She made sure she always carried her mace. She asked Garret for different hours…offering to work the graveyard shift….which he gladly agreed to. He always had a hard time getting anyone to work that shift. He had asked why. She had told him she just needed a change. He had accepted her reasoning without a fuss.

But she still felt as if she was being watched. Followed. She was really beginning to worry about her own sanity…whether her paranoia was truly taking over her mind, when she stepped out of the elevator on to her level of the parking deck early one Sunday morning after working yet again another exhausting double. She was tired…very tired and less aware of her surroundings than normal. It was then she was grabbed by the throat and hauled off around the elevator to a dark corner. "Jordan," she heard a low voice grind out. "Nice to finally meet you." She felt a hand pull her pony tail out from inside her coat.

Jordan's chestnut hair had grown nearly down to her waist now, and like a lot of women with hair that length, she often wore it in a loose pony tail, with a scrunchie nearly half-way down her back…just keeping the hair out of her face while she worked in her office. She would pull it back tighter when she did autopsy or trace. She felt his hand fondle her pony tail. The voice continued. "I've been watching you for a long time…I really want to spend some time with you. You're a fascinating woman." Jordan closed her eyes and waited for a time to yell….but he had her by the throat so tightly she could neither shout nor get away. Then she heard the metallic click of a knife opening. She held her breath and waited for the inevitable, but instead just heard soft chuckling. "No need to be so afraid….I'd never hurt you, Jordan." Instead of feeling the cold metal against her skin, she felt the knife cut through her hair at the base of her scrunchie. I just need something to remember you by…something to keep you close to me."

He pushed her to the ground then and before she could get up, all she saw was his back, retreating quickly down the stairwell, out into the street. "Hey…stop…." She yelled… "Stop…." The last was quieter, as she realized it didn't matter. It was early on a Sunday morning and no one but her and ….whoever that pervert was….was in the deck. She sank back down on the floor, tears streaming down her face. Everything in her was telling her to call the police. But what could they do…all the man did was cut off her hair --- about eight inches of it. She couldn't even describe him…they could get him for assault…eventually, if they ever found him.

But she wasn't sure how the Boston PD would react to her phoning this in without at least some kind of description of the perp. And she had none. Gamely, she felt the back of her hair. A good chunk of it was gone. He had taken something personal of hers and that scared her. Only really deranged killers…or other perpetrators did such things. She swallowed hard. She would go home, shower, change, go to the mall and see if she could find a hair salon open and get a decent trim now. Then she would battle with her conscious about if maybe….just maybe, she should call Lois Carver and talk to her off the record.