Chapter Five

He didn't know what to do. He had called and left messages. She didn't call him back. There had been no activity on her credit cards. He even had Sydney try to tag her on the computer…to see if the GPS on her cell phone would tell him anything, if her social security number had been used recently…her ME license number. Nothing. It was as if she had dropped off the face of the earth…out of bounds…out of his reach.

Still, each night he called. She had been gone nearly a month now. The divorce papers were sitting on the kitchen table at their house. She hadn't called the Massachusetts morgue once, or Garret's personal cell phone. He had urged Garret to try to get in touch her…maybe she would answer Garret's calls.

"Why, Woody?" Garret had asked him. "Jordan's a grown woman. She's done this before…run to get away from it all for a while. Give her some time. If she hasn't called me by the end of the month, I'll phone her. I can't guarantee she'll take my call…but she'll resurface at some point. She'll have to."

Woody knew it was all true. But that didn't stop him from worrying. About her. About them. If there was a "them" anymore.

Feeling restless one night after work, he stopped by the Pogue. To have a Scotch and see if Max had by chance, heard anything out of her. As soon as he entered the bar, Max motioned him over to the side. "I was just about to call you," he said.

"You've heard from her?"

"Yeah. About fifteen minutes ago. She called. She wouldn't say where she was, just that she was going to be there for a while. And that she was fine. And for me not to worry."

"What did the phone number come up as on your caller id?"

"Just her regular Boston cell phone number."

"So she hasn't had her phone turned off."

Max shook his head. "Nope. I told her that you wanted to talk to her. That she needed to call you…and to come back to Boston. She said she didn't know when or if she'd ever be back here, and that she had signed the divorce papers – you shouldn't have any questions. She didn't want the house or anything in it."

Woody sighed. "So she won't even talk to me."

"You've hurt her bad, Woody. She was doing everything she knew how…she just had too many demands on her. Work. Me and the bar. Being your wife. She knew things were going to settle down with her soon. You just got too impatient. Instead of sitting down and talking to her directly, you ran a full-out offense. And it blew up in your face. I'm sorry, son. I think in Jordan's mind, as much as she doesn't want the marriage to be over, it is. She's trying to move on."

He felt totally lost…and angry at himself…and ashamed. He left the bar to go to the morgue. She had called Max, maybe she had called Garret.

"No…not a word out of her," Garret had said, answering Woody's question. "I am glad she called her father. That way Max won't worry so much."

"Yeah. Me, too. I just wish…"

"She'd call you back…just for a few minutes?"

Woody nodded. She had no idea how much he missed her voice…not to mention her eyes…and her curled up next to him in the morning. He swallowed hard. "Has Sydney had any hits with her information on the computer?"

"If he has, he hasn't said…but he's been up to his eyes in autopsy today. He's in his office…go ask him."

Woody walked across the hall to what used to be Nigel's old office. If he listened hard, he could still hear Nigel's voice, with that English accent, greeting him…. "Hello, Woodrow." So much had changed…

"Hey, Sydney…I was just wondering if you had gotten any information on Jordan yet?"

"Detective Hoyt…No. But I haven't really been keeping up with it. Jordan's leaving has kind of left us in a bind here…I'm working all kinds of hours…" Sydney replied, his voice carrying a tone of almost uncaring flippancy.

Feeling the anger rising in him, Woody replied, "That's why we need to see if we can find her. To get her back."

"Look. She resigned. And from what I understand, it had to do more with personal problems with her husband than any problems here at the morgue. But the way she left sure has caused problems for all of us here."

Woody had opened his mouth to put the ME in his place when Garret stepped in. "Sydney. You will look for Jordan. Despite the fact that she is no longer an employee with the Massachusetts State Medical Examiners Office, she left in good standing. She was a responsible, hard working ME while she was here, as well as a good friend. We're all worried about her. And if you remember correctly, she's worked long hours for the past three months to get you trained and up-to-par. You owe her at least a few minutes of your time to make sure she's safe."

Sydney swallowed hard, visibly nervous. "Yes, sir, Dr. Macy," he replied quietly. He checked his computer screen and shook his head. "No hits. We don't know where she is at yet."

He went home then…to an empty house full of memories. Jordan had loved that house. It was nothing fancy. They couldn't afford fancy. It was just a simple two bedroom, wooden-frame, New England clapboard-style house. It had a small, eat-in kitchen, a larger great room with a fireplace. It was perfect for them…they had thought it would remain perfect until after they decided to have children.

She had decorated it in quintessential Jordan-style. A little old. A little new. A little funky. Her Indigo Girls poster hung in the laundry room. His antique robot collection had a spot in the great room. It was perfect melding of the two of them. He came in and shut the door, making his way to the bedroom to undress, his eyes falling onto the queen-sized bed. That was the one piece of furniture she had insisted on having her way about. It was a beautiful, four-poster bed with the tops of the posters actually leaning in towards each other and intertwining at the top. She said it reminded her of Penelope's marriage bed in The Odyssey – the one made out of an entire tree….the one that would last as long as Penelope's and Odysseus's marriage – one that would last as long as theirs. He could barely bring himself to sleep in it now.

He laid down on it, trying to see if her side of the bed still retained her scent. The first time he had made love to her as his wife was in this bed. It had been late when they got home from their reception at the Pogue. They decided to leave for the coast the next day. Instead, he had taken her to bed…made her his wife in every sense of the word. The corners of his mouth turned up softly at the memories.

So how could he have let things get so bad? He cursed himself one more time. How could he do that to her? To them? Rubbing his arm across his eyes, he picked up his cell phone again, getting up and walking into the kitchen, dialing a number at the same time.

"Robertson's and Neal's office," said a professional-sounding voice on the other end.

"Mr. Robertson?"

"Yes?"

"This is Woody Hoyt. I had you file some divorce papers on my wife a few weeks ago…"

"Ah. Yes. Mr. Hoyt. Did she receive them?"

"Yeah. Yes, she did. And she signed them. I have them with me. I was just wondering…her signing them…does that make the divorce final?"

"No, Mr. Hoyt. Until you bring them in here and I file them, the divorce is not final."

"So…we're still married?"

"Yes. Very much so."

After thanking his attorney for clarifying the matter, Woody hung up. He walked across the room to the kitchen table. He picked up the divorce decree, tore it in half, and fed it down the garbage disposal.