Chapter Twelve

Nigel came into her office and shut the door. From the look on his face, she knew it was bad news…she just had no idea how bad. At first, she thought it might be about her father.

In her wildest nightmares, she had never dreamed it would be about Woody. Nigel took her in his arms. "Love," he began…his own voice perilously close to the edge. "I have something I need to tell you." His eyes had said it.

The only noise that had come from her throat before she crumpled in his arms and lost track of reality was "No…no...no…no…."

But Nigel just nodded. "I'm sorry, Jordan. His car was in the pileup…in the very middle of it, where the fire started. I am so, so sorry."

Fire. He had been nearly consumed by the fire, according to Nigel's report. There wasn't even enough left to bring into the morgue. Nothing left to place in a casket and mourn over.

In a matter of minutes, her world had changed. In the space of time it had taken for Nigel to tell her about Woody, she had gone from being a married person to being single one.

From being a wife to being a widow.

Weeks later, she still sobbed in her pillow at night, when the memories overtook her. She had really just gotten to the point to where she could begin to put the events of the last few months together. After Nigel had told her Woody had been in the wreck and didn't survive, she had crumpled in his arms. She couldn't think, let alone reason, for days. She remembered Garret flying in. She remembered crying herself to sleep in his arms.

At some point in time, Nigel had come to her with a small bag. "I found this in his car," he said. "I thought you may want them." She had opened it up. Inside were her engagement ring and wedding band. He had them with him when he had talked to her that night…probably in hopes she would put them back on and be his wife again.

And if she had, he would still be alive…still warm and breathing beside her. The remorse she felt was awful. The guilt she felt was indescribable. She wasn't coping at any level. The loss was too great for her to fathom.

She decided to leave Phoenix. Go back home – to Boston. At least she had some kind of footing there. Garret. Her dad. Their small house. Between the three, it strangely was the house that gave her the most comfort. His things were there….his clothes. His antique robot collection. His aftershave. She still felt he was there with her in some way.

She planned a memorial service. There was nothing to bury, but he needed to be honored. He should be honored. He had served the citizens of Boston nearly ten years at this point. A police honor guard was there. Bug and Lily flew in from England. Nigel and Ronnie came in from Phoenix. Peter even returned from Hawaii. It was truly a gathering of eagles. They had solved cases together, worked together, drank together for more years than any of them cared to remember. Garret had called them "the best damn group of ME's I've ever worked with…probably the best anywhere, ever. And Woody was definitely the best detective to work with." A priest prayed. Kind words were spoken about the man she still loved…would probably always love, for the rest of her life. Despite the fact that no body was recovered, she placed a headstone for him in the cemetery, near her mother's grave. Now she had two reasons to visit here.

Lily and Ronnie had stayed for several days with her. Both of the women were pregnant…Jordan had looked at them with a mixture of awe and remorse. If only…that phrase filled her mind and her dreams now. If only I had agreed to come back to Boston, if only I had talked to him before I signed the papers, if only….if only…That could be Woody and me expecting our first child….we all three could be pregnant together. The women tried to help Jordan sort through Woody's things…but she couldn't bring herself to throw out any of it out right now. Just being able to find a shirt in the closet that smelled like him…to put it on and sleep in it at night brought her more comfort than she could say.

Garret hired her back at the morgue. He had never really officially accepted her letter of resignation. He had put her on leave. She had her old office back. She was working again, at least on some level. Mainly in trace. She didn't trust herself in autopsy yet. Her life went on in increments. One minute to the next. Then hours. Then days. Peter decided to return to Boston from Hawaii. It was good to have another old friend by her side during this time, since Bug and Lily returned to England and Nigel and Ronnie went back to Phoenix.

"Say, Jordan…" Peter said, sticking his head in her office one Friday afternoon at quitting time. "Want to go grab a drink at the Pogue after work?"

"I don't think so…I just don't feel like it, Peter."

"Jordan…you need to get out more…it's not good that you stay home so much…It worries me and Dr. Macy. I know it would worry Woody. Please….for me?"

Peter was becoming a good friend to Jordan…watching her nearly as closely as Nigel did while he was at the morgue. He and Garret were trying to keep her spirits boosted as much as possible. But as winter gave way to a cool Boston spring, it was getting harder and harder to pull Jordan away from work, or out of her house. Garret feared for her mental health. Peter feared she would run.

But running was no longer an option for Jordan. If she ran, she would have to leave the home that she and Woody had made. If she ran, her memories would be in Boston. And right now, those were the only things keeping her warm at night.

"Um…okay, Peter. But not the Pogue…"

Peter nodded. He imagined it held too many memories for her. "How about McPherson's?"

"Yeah. That's good. I'll meet you there in about an hour?"

"Sure."

He left her office and shut the door. Quietly, Jordan put on her coat and got her pocketbook. Leaving the morgue, she drove to the cemetery. The days were getting longer now. It stayed light after quitting time. She often came to Woody's site after work now…to think. To remember. To talk to him. She had apologized more times than she wanted to remember for not really listening to him that night. She felt she bore the weight of his death on her shoulders. It was her fault…she could have invited him to stay the night at least. She had known it was getting late.

Or she could have said yes, and returned to Boston as his wife.

The guilt was eating her alive. "Hey, sweetheart," she said quietly to his headstone. "It's Friday…another week is ending. It's wonderful weather now…This would be the time of year we'd start grilling out again…brats on the grill…a little hanky-panky in the hot tub…" Jordan smiled. That was Woody's favorite way of starting the weekend. They'd grill out….have a beer….start in the hot tub….where he'd kiss her and promptly remove her bathing suit top.

He'd take the rest of it off in the bedroom. As she would his….and after making love until they were exhausted, they'd fall asleep and stay in the bed until late Saturday morning.

Now she rose as early on Saturday as she did the rest of the work week. There was no reason to linger in bed. She swallowed hard. "I miss you, Wood. A lot. So much my soul aches. I keep thinking I see you…in the house…at the precinct. Garret thinks I'm losing it. He wants me to take a vacation…get away from it all for a while. I don't know. I might go back to Phoenix and see Nigel and Ronnie. She's due in couple of months….They want me to be the godmother of their child…can you imagine me….a godmother? Yeah, I think it's crazy, too.

"I've got to go now, hon. Peter's waiting for me at McPherson's. He said he wanted to take me out for a drink. I think he just wants to make sure I'm okay. I know I need to get out more, but it just doesn't feel right….besides, I feel closer to you in the house. Maybe one day…" her voice cracked just a little… "Maybe one day before long I'll see you again. I love you…." She gave the headstone a pat and walked off. She supposed Garret maybe right. She may very well be loosing the edge of her sanity. She could swear some days she could still see him. She made a mental note to make an appointment with Howard Stiles next week and ask him if this degree of grief was normal.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she climbed in her rag top and drove to the bar.