Chapter Six

Jordan woke to a pounding in her head accompanied by a pounding outside. Someone is using a hammer on something, she thought as she slowly forced her eyes open. What little light was left outside was sifting in the windows and causing her head to hurt even worse. She shut her eyes and tried opening them again…more slowly this time.

She was tied to a chair. That much she knew. Her hands and arms were tied behind the back of the chair and her feet were tied to the legs of the chair. She was in a small room with little furniture….a table. A sink across on the other side with some cabinets. Her eyes weren't focusing quite right and everything kept swimming in front of them. She closed and opened them again in a vain attempt to get everything to focus. Finally, giving up, she tried to remember what happened….and how she got here….and was there anyway she could get out.

She remembered getting ready for work. She remembered walking out to her truck. She remembered someone calling her name. She thought it had sounded a little like Woody. She had turned around to see, but instead, something had been sprayed in her face. And then her memory bank was blank. Until right now. Now she was tied to the chair. Her shirt was off….she only had on her camisole. Her jeans were on. Her shoes were off, but her socks were still in place. It was cold. She could feel the goose bumps on her skin. She had to get out….get away. But her head felt heavy….and her eyes were still not focusing too well. And she knew she had nothing in her pants pockets that wouldcut through the ropes around her wrists. Then it hit her.

Her pocketbook and cell phone were back in her truck. She had nothing…nothing to let anyone know where she was at….and nothing to use to escape with but her wits. Sending a silent prayer up that Nigel and Garret would be so ticked at her for being late they would come looking for her, she began to try to wriggle out of the ropes around her wrists…but they were too tight. She tried to think again…did she leave behind in her truck that would give them a clue to where she was at? She wasn't sure where she was at…Did whoever took her leave a clue? Would Lois put this string of events together? Had she been able to get a print off of the box her hair had been mailed in?

Her head was still swimming and Jordan could feel the nausea well up in her as she began to fight the panic waving over her. I've got to keep my head on straight, she thought. That may be the only thing that will keep me alive…..

She heard the door creak open and a figure came inside and shut it behind him. "Good evening Dr. Cavanaugh…Jordan. It's so nice to finally meet you in person…."

"What do you mean there's no prints?" Woody asked Lois as Jordan's truck was being processed.

"There are no prints here but Jordan's. The perp left nothing behind. But on the other hand, there's no blood, either, so …"

Woody knew what that meant. At least she wasn't bleeding, but that didn't give him a whole lot of comfort. She may not have been shot or stabbed….but she could have been strangled.

Or taken somewhere else to be killed….

"What about the cards….any prints on those?" he asked, alluding to the threatening cards that Lois had found in Jordan's desk drawer.

"No. Not a print."

"So we're really working in the dark here, aren't we?" asked Garret.

"It's midnight with no moon," answered Lois.

"Hey, Detective Carver," a lab technician called out…. "I still don't have a fingerprint…but look at this…. Propobuloxin III."

Lois gave the technician a stare. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Nigel said, looking at the results with the technician, "that Jordan was sprayed with this stuff and it knocked her unconscious. Whoever this guy was, he knocked her out and has taken her off somewhere."

"Any idea where…has this happened in the area before?" asked Woody.

"There's nothing like this on file," Lois replied, busily radioing in her next set of commands. "I need the phone records for both the apartment of Dr. Jordan Marie Cavanaugh and her cell phone….stat. No, it can't wait. Now. Yesterday was better, but I'll settle for them in the next ten minutes."

"You don't remember me, do you?" the man said to Jordan, kneeling down in front of her.

"I know you were the man in the parking deck that kept watching me….you sent me the cards….and you cut my hair."

"Yeah, that was me," the man said, letting a finger trail lightly up Jordan's leg. She willed herself to have no reaction to his touch. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

Jordan shook her head. "No. I don't. And if you let me go, I swear I won't remember you or any of this. Believe it or not, I am known for my ability to keep my mouth shut."

The man chuckled. A cold sound that made her want to shiver even harder. "You should have thought about keeping your mouth shut months ago, Jordan. If you had, you wouldn't find yourself here with me now…"

Puzzled by the man's statements…and trying to buy herself some time to figure out an escape plan, she said, "I don't understand….."

"You remember the Levinson case…the case that has given you so much grief?"

"How could I forget?" Jordan didn't get so involved personally in cases anymore….she knew what it had cost her in the past….but this case was different. Girls….young girls, some as young as fourteen, were coming through the morgue…some beaten…some tortured….all had been prostitutes.

She and Woody had been on the case from the start. Cases like this particularly hit home to Jordan. She had seen too many of these sorts of bodies in the past….bodies that once housed young spirits and minds…only to be brutally ended before their lives had really begun. Child abuse cases hit Woody the hardest…and those bothered her, too. But these sorts of cases…these were the ones she pursued with all the passion and fire in her soul.

Woody had discovered these young women…girls…babies, in her mind, had been part of a chain of female slavery. The girls were picked up …abducted…from school yards, ball fields…bus terminals. Sold from dealer to pimp. A soulless business transaction where the ultimate price was paid by the girl. If they didn't comply…if they fought too hard….or they tried to run from the dealer, the girls were killed. Jordan had strung the forensic clues together for the case. She worked hard…too hard….pushing too many buttons until finally the DA told her to back off and let the police handle the job now. She couldn't. She didn't. The DA had finally reprimanded her and reported her to Garret. Garret had hit the roof. This was the last straw for the chief ME. After years of dealing with her running, her pushing the envelope….her sticking her nose in where it didn't belong, Garret had put her on probation…"One slip up," he had told her, "One slip up in the next three months and you're outta here. I'm sorry. I know where your heart is, and I understand. But you have got to learn to let the police do their job and you do yours. Just yours. You'll be a lot safer that way."

And it had been this case that led to her blow up with Woody. The DA had called him in on the carpet for feeding Jordan too much information….letting her do too much. "It's got to stop, Jordan," he had told her.

"It will, Woody, I promise…it will. It's just this case…"

"It's every case, Jordan. It's not enough that you drag me along personally….leading me on and then pushing me away, now you're trying to ruin me professionally. I can't let you do that. I don't want to see you again. Neither professionally or personally. Our working career is over. Our personal….whatever it is ….that's over, too. I don't want to see you or talk to you again. Is that clear?"

And with that, he had turned on his heel and left her, standing there, in the middle of the morgue parking lot. Alone.

So reprimanded, probationed, and abandoned, she had continued on with her life….pulling inside herself….Not really reaching out to anyone any longer. The case had gone to court. Woody was there. He had testified. So had she. And as soon has she had, she left. He had told her he didn't want to see or talk to her again. She was glad to oblige. At least that's what her brain told her. Her heart was another matter, but she wasn't listening to it any longer.

"Well… what Woody and you both thought…that there was a man behind the dealer….a man behind Levinson supplying the contacts and the money…but Levinson wouldn't talk and you couldn't figure out who it was? I'm that guy, Jordan. I'm that guy you and your sweetheart of a detective couldn't find."

Jordan swallowed hard and looked him in the eye. Trying to call his bluff, she said, "So….I'm a medical examiner for Massachusetts. Don't you think someone is going to miss me and come after me…find you?"

"I don't think so, Jordan. From everything I can tell, you've pretty much been on your own for months now. I mean, they probably know you're missing now…but they have no idea where you're at, or what has happened. The Levinson case was closed by the DA. No one is looking for me any longer.

"But you… you're different." The man ran his finger up her leg again. "I imagine, given enough time, even your boss will miss you. Not to mention that blue-eyed detective you've been mooning over. And what do you think they'll find when they try to rescue you?"

Jordan shook her head. She really didn't want to know.

The man inhaled deeply. "Not the woman they knew….if they find you. Believe it or not, there's a market for older women. I know…I know…the young ones sell quicker….but sometimes, an older man wants an older woman…a woman with a little more experience…but still has her looks. I think I could find somewhere to send you…."

"You touch me and I'll rip your head off."

The man smiled at her. "I know. That's why I need to make you more…..amendable to the idea."

Before Jordan could say anything else, he sprayed her with the Propobuloxin III again.