Chapter Eleven

Two days later, the doctor said she was cleared to go home. Jordan was glad beyond words…her dad had brought by a few of her things earlier in the week. She showered, dressed in real clothes, and did her make up and hair. Then she called a taxi.

She didn't know what else to do.

Garret, Nigel, Bug, and Lily had been by. But she still found it difficult to talk with them. Their relationships still seemed to be tinged by the Levinson/Pullman case…a case that was now completely solved, but far from over in their minds. Her relationship with her dad was still tenuous and awkward at best. And the words that Woody uttered during their earlier fight kept ringing in her ears every time she saw him: 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?"

She rationalized that guilt was what drove him to the hospital to see her. It was the vehicle that dumped him out on her threshold every evening she was hospitalized. She didn't want him coming to see her out of the remorse he felt for pushing her aside that day she had came to his office seeking help. Upon further reflection, she realized that he was probably right. They didn't need to see each other again. They shouldn't.

She had written thank you notes for all the flowers she received, including his. She thanked him for his time and efforts in finding her…it was a debt she'd never be able to repay. She thanked him for the flowers…and asked him to send her the bill for dry cleaning the suit he wore the day he found her in the box. She knew she probably had nearly ruined it – she had been wet and muddy then….that day. The day he lifted her up out of the box.

Lifted her up and held her as if his life depended on it. That's how her dreams about the box always ended….she'd be just about ready to drown…the box filling up with water…and then his hand would grab her and haul her up to safety…to him.

The taxi arrived at her apartment. She paid the driver and took the elevator up. Home had never looked so good…she opened her door, went in, and shut out the world. Once again, being alone didn't feel so lonely. At least here she could deal with the issues surrounding her abduction without people asking her how was she feeling. How did they think she felt? She had been stalked, abducted, threatened with force prostitution, then buried in a box. But her apartment was her haven….her place of peace….she dropped her bag on the bed and followed it down. She had her medication….she'd go get some groceries tomorrow…but for right now, she could rest…without being interrupted.

Until the doorbell woke her out of her sleep. Stumbling for the door, she cautiously looked out through the peephole. It was her dad. Stifling a sigh, she opened it up for him.

"I thought you were going to come to my house when you go out of the hospital," were the first words out of his mouth when she opened the door.

"I'm sorry…I'm just more comfortable here."

"But who's going to look after you? Take care of you while you're getting better?"

Jordan swallowed hard. The same person that had always taken care of her. "I will, Dad. I'm okay by myself. I'm a doctor…and besides, I'm much better. I'll be fine."

"I don't like this, Jordan."

"I'll be fine…" And after about thirty minutes of arguing with him, she got him to believe her and he left…he had to go open the bar. But not without the promise that he would be calling her and checking up on her…he was worried. Jordan had rolled her eyes and closed the door behind him.

"She's home," Max told Garret and Woody that night at the bar. "Evidently, the doctor released her and she took a taxi back to her apartment. She has to rest until Saturday, but then she said she can go back to work. She said she feels fine, just tires easily."

"Well, then, she won't be working until Monday. I told her no more graveyard shifts….so Monday will be her first day back," Garret said.

Woody said nothing, just continued to drink his Guinness. Jordan had not promised her father that she would come to his house after she was released from the hospital and she didn't. He didn't figure she'd follow Garret's request any better. If he was a betting man, he'd wager she'd be back on the graveyard shift on Saturday…something he was planning to investigate himself.

From the tone of her thank you note, he got the impression that while she was thankful for his help, she didn't expect anything else from him….or want it. He knew why. That was his fault. The problem was, he had changed his mind.

When he had discovered she was missing…his world had caved in around him. Even though he had been angry with her…furious with the Levinson case, he still had found himself seeking her out…just to see her, even from a distance. He had even told Garret he wanted to work with her again…then Pullman had taken her away. Put her in that box. A fact that still plagued his mind…she had been alone, in the dark, frightened, wet…He had heard her recorded statement to Lois.

She had been in that box for nearly three days….and if they hadn't found her, Pullman was going to do the same thing to her he had been doing to countless other girls he had snatched in Boston. Try to sell her out to the highest bidder. He inwardly shuddered at the thought. Between being confined and the threat of that…he didn't know how she had held up…

He wondered about that…a lot…exactly how well she really had held up. Lois told him that she was worried about Jordan. When she had given her statement, her voice had been flat…no inflection…no tears….Lois was under the impression Jordan was just tamping down her fear…hiding it…not letting anyone see how terrified she really was. Trying to appear that her life could and would go on as normal…working…solving cases.

But she didn't need to be alone. Woody realized her choosing to work the graveyard shift was partially to throw Pullman off kilter when he was stalking her….alter her schedule to throw him off guard. But he wondered if it also wasn't partially self-imposed exile….away from her co-workers and their strained relationships….away from him.

Woody signed and threw a twenty down on the counter to cover his drinks. He wasn't sure, but he was going to find out Saturday.