Chapter Three

She drove for miles, ignoring her cell phone's insistent ringing…just concentrating on driving, the miles slipping by….putting distance between herself and Boston….putting distance between herself and him. The first night, she drove until she couldn't keep her tired eyes open any longer. Pulling into a Hotel Six just off the interstate, she had checked in under the name Jordan Cavanaugh….a last name she hadn't used in five years. Woody had told her she could keep her maiden name…he didn't care, he just wanted her. But she had wanted to take his last name…wanted to be his wife in the fullest sense of the word….she loved him. She wouldn't lose her identity if she followed tradition…right?

So she became Dr. Jordan Marie Cavanaugh Hoyt ... Mrs. Woodrow Wilson Hoyt … The only person that would slip up and call her anything remotely by her old name was Emmy….she'd always called Jordan "Dr. C." And she didn't lose her identity. She was still the same old Jordan. Only she was married. And just like she would with any other detective, she and Woody still went toe-to-toe over the forensic evidence if she thought he was wrong. They had been able to leave it all in the office….until last year. It followed them home and seemed to circle around them, wreathing them in constant discontent. On reflection, it wasn't the cases that bothered Jordan so much, it was Amy, Woody's new co-worker. Amy was his partner…she was entrenched in all his cases…more deeply than Jordan.

She hadn't regarded the young girl as a threat then. She was young…younger than Jordan…blonde…green eyes. She just hadn't seemed like Woody's type. But soon phrases like "Amy thinks this," or "Amy says that," were coming out of his mouth too frequently for her to be comfortable with. Thus the confrontation. And that's when everything went down hill. She sighed as she paid for her room in cash…that way no one could track her. She was out of his life now. He could have all of Amy he wanted.

Woody flipped his cell phone shut, leaned back in the kitchen chair, and looked out the window at the sun beginning its ascent over the city through the window. He was still in his suit from yesterday, a day's worth of stubble peppered across his face, tie hanging limply around his neck. She wasn't answering her phone…not that he expected her to. At least not right now. He had filled up her voice mail…First it was messages asking her "How could you leave?" Later, as the hours slipped by and he knew she wasn't coming back, the messages had changed… "Where are you?" "Are you all right?" And finally, "Please come home, Jordan. We need to talk…please…come back." He never asked her why she left. That was glaringly apparent.

She wasn't answering and she wasn't checking her voice mail…it was full and had been full since midnight. All he could do was call her number and pray she would answer. His prayers went unheeded and unheard. Running his fingers through his hair, he got up and put on a pot of coffee. He needed to shower, shave, and get ready for work. That would serve to distract his mind from her for a while, although he wasn't sure what good he would really be to the fine citizens of Boston today. His body may be at the precinct, but his mind would be trying to follow her…trying to figure out where his wife was and what, if anything, he could do to get her to talk to him….or bring her back to Boston.

Jordan filled up her jeep with gas and continued to head southwest now….she still wasn't sure yet where she was going. The interstate was her lifeline. She was blindly following it to see where she would land….and in what condition she would be in when she got there. She had no real destination in mind, but she had enough cash to last her several weeks. And when Garret deposited her paychecks in her account, she'd be in even better shape. That would give her enough time to choose a town and settle in…find some kind of job. She didn't really care if she went back to being a medical examiner or not. She really didn't care about much of anything.

He had called last night – just as he had every night. Every hour. Then every half hour. Before her phone's battery had died, it was every fifteen minutes. She didn't answer. At least Garret had the good grace to leave her the hell alone for a little while, but she expected he'd call in a day or two, just to check in. From experience, Max would wait on her to call. Woody had filled her voice mail…and she deleted every message without listening to it. She didn't really need to hear what he was saying right now. She didn't want to. She didn't want excuses or explanations. She wanted her life back. Her married life. With him.

But that wasn't going to happen…he had filed for divorce, she signed the papers and left him her rings. She left him the house and their belongings. She took only what was hers and half the money, which the court would have awarded her anyway. What more did he want from her? What more did he expect?

She pulled off the interstate after driving for about four hours to stretch her legs and get her bearings. Pulling a map of the United States from her glove compartment, she studied it. The whole North American hemisphere was hers now…to do whatever she wanted to with and to enjoy it as much as she desired. She glanced towards the left side of the map, still determined to put as much space between her and Boston as she could. Kentucky… Mississippi… Texas…. Oklahoma … Arizona… That's it…Phoenix, she thought. Flipping her cell phone open, she dialed his number. He answered on the second ring.

"Nigel Townsend," His rich, English accent filled her ears with familiarity and comfort.

"Nige….it's Jordan."

"Love! How are you?"

"Please….don't ask," she replied, her voice breaking just a bit.

"Jordan…are you all right?" Concern laced his words. He could hear the cars on the interstate and wondered just what his girl was up to …. What mess had she gotten herself into now?

"No. I'm not. I'm not all right….it's just…anyway…are you still in Phoenix?"

"Certainly. I'm working at the morgue here…and not going anywhere else for a long while."

"Can…can….I come see you, Nigel?"

"Of course. Where are you at now?"

"Ohio." Nigel could hear the tears in her voice.

"Come on, love. Come to Phoenix. And get here just as fast as you safely can. I'll be waiting."