Chapter Sixteen

She couldn't shake the feeling that she knew him…from somewhere and at sometime.

In the span of a few weeks, they had worked several cases together, and for some reason, she felt as if she knew him and he knew her. Charles had begun requesting her if she was on duty during one of his calls. Not that this was very different from some of the other detectives. Eddie Winslow was the same way. If Jordan was on duty when Eddie received a homicide call, he also would request Jordan.

But Charles was different. Jordan couldn't put her finger on it…but it was if they had worked together before. Garret had even noticed it and approached Jordan about it. "I don't know what is, Garret," she had replied. "I just feel like I know him and he knows me. He must have been a good detective in New York and worked with a lot of ME's. He certainly knows how we think," she said, shrugging off his inquiries.

"I believe he knows how you think," was Garret's reply, raising an eyebrow.

Jordan shrugged that off, too.

Finally, one afternoon after they both had been out on a call, Charles asked her out to lunch. "Would you go with me?" he had asked. "I hate to eat alone…"

Jordan had swallowed hard and nodded. She hadn't had lunch with anyone other than the immediate males in her life in a long time. But she felt comfortable with Charles. Safe. After they were seated and their orders taken, she slowly stirred her tea with the straw the waitress put in it, and asked. "So….Charles….I hear you're originally from Hanover, Maryland and then from New York…what happened in between there?"

Woody looked at her for a beat. It was both pain and pleasure to be with her…he had to be so careful about what he said, not tipping his hand about what was going on. Yet he had to remain casually confident. It was a difficult tightrope to walk…a constant balancing act. Taking a deep breath and making lots of mental notes so he wouldn't trip himself up in the future, he began. "Not a lot to tell, really. I was born and raised in Hanover. When I graduated from the academy there, I stayed. I was young. As I got older, I wanted to see new places…meet new people…open myself up to other challenges. So I applied with the NYPD and was hired. Spent the better part of 10 years there…took it a couple of times…once in the leg. The second time was in the shoulder…a little too close for comfort. I still wanted to be a cop, but somewhere not quite as…hectic. Boston was hiring, so here I am. Not married, no kids. What about you, Jordan?"

"Well, I started out as a heart surgeon." His look of amazement caught her off guard. She chuckled. "I did. I started out working on beating hearts…now I work on non-beating ones. I met Garret and through a series of events, got really interesting in what medical examiners do. My dad was a cop, so the investigation side of it really got my attention. I worked in Boston to begin with…then I kind of bounced around. Atlanta. Denver. LA. Then back to Boston about ten years ago."

"Are you married? Engaged?" he asked, keeping his eyes averted from her face for a moment.

Jordan swallowed hard again. "Single," she replied. Her voice had a wavering edge to it that Woody caught immediately. Widowhood was not something that was lying easily around her. She still couldn't bring herself to wear that title. She had learned from experience to be careful who she admitted her real marital status to. It seems some men thought that since she was a young widow, she only needed comforting one way…. She looked out the window for a minute to compose herself. Woody caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Oh. Yeah. Sure." Their food arrived and personal topics were forgotten as they ate their meal and talked about the case they were out on this morning. Afterwards, Woody walked her out to her van. She turned and looked up at him…into his eyes…that completely undid her composure every time she gazed into them. She made herself voice her thoughts. "I'll let you know when I'm through with trace…" she began.

"That's fine, Jordan," Woody said, interrupting. "Just…look…if you need me, will you call me?" He pulled out one of his business cards, flipped it over, and wrote his personal cell phone number on the back. "You seemed a little down in the diner. So if you need to talk…" he stopped himself before he pushed a stray curl behind her ear.

Normally Jordan would have bristled under such a comment from someone she barely knew. But Charles was different. "Thanks," she said, taking the small piece of paper from his hand…their fingers brushed and she felt the tingles.

"I mean it, Jo," he said, watching her get in her van and drive off.

That was the difficult thing he had done in his life. Watch his wife deal with her widowhood status and nearly lose it right in front of his eyes. He needed to tell her soon. He was adjusting to the "new" Woody. But judging by her fragile state, he would need to ease her into the truth. He just needed the appropriate opportunity. And given the balance between time and odds, that would happen.

And it did…a few days later. Jordan had the day off, but had a file that Woody needed for a case he and Eddie were working on. The file was with her and she was at their home. With his heart nearly beating out of his chest, he drove over to their home, and holding his breath, he knocked on their door.

Jordan answered it nearly immediately, surprise written all over her face. "Um…I need to look at the Trogdon file," he stammered. "I'm trying to close the case today."

"Yeah. Come in and I'll get it for you. How'd you find out where I live?"

She had him there.

Thinking quickly, he lied. "Peter gave me directions….he's told me you probably had the file."

Jordan nodded, motioning him inside. "Hang on, I'll get it for you." She ran up the stairs to their guest bedroom. Woody took advantage of the opportunity to look around.

And it looked as if he had never left. His antique robots were in the living room. His jacket was still on the coat rack. A quick peak in the master bedroom revealed his badge was still on the dresser. He found his original spot in the entrance way before Jordan made her way downstairs again. Jokingly, he said. "Hey, I thought you said you weren't married….it sure looks like a man lives here."

And watched in total dismay as she completely broke down. She took a deep breath to give him an answer and the reality of her situation overwhelmed her -- again. Whether it was because this man with the same color blue eyes as her husband was in her living room, or whether it was because he wore Woody's cologne, she didn't know. She just dissolved in tears, covering her face and sobbing.

His arms immediately went around her. "Jordan….I'm sorry….I didn't mean to make you cry. What is it?"

"I'm a widow, Charles," she nearly choked on the admission. "My husband is dead."

Woody opened his mouth to contradict her, but Jordan's wall was down and she needed to talk. "He…he…was a homicide detective with the Boston PD. He died in an automobile accident…his car was completely incinerated. They couldn't even recover enough of him to bury. I think they hired you to take his place."

"Jordan…."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have broken down like this in front of you….it's been a long time since I've broken down in front of anyone about it…except Garret and my dad. They kind of expect it from me….I'm sorry….it's just that…with you taking his place with the police department and…well…you have the same color eyes that Woody did. That was his name….Woody Hoyt."

"Jordan…I'm so sorry…so very sorry…." He began to tell her the truth when his cell phone rang. It was Eddie. They had found a body off the wharf. He had to go. "Jo….I have to go…Eddie…" He felt her nod against his shoulder. He cursed cell phones….their convenient inconvenience. Muttering a heartfelt "damn" under his breath, he gently eased her out of his arms. She was really in no state to be left alone. Gently wiping her tears away with the pads of his thumb, he asked the inane question, "Will you be okay?"

She nodded and he felt her straighten her spine. "Yeah. I will be. I'll be fine. You go. You have to…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything…..at least on this level."

He reluctantly set her from him and opened the front door. "I'll call you later to check on you, Jo. Just…anyway….I'm here…call me if you need me before tonight." And he was gone.

Jordan quietly shut the door behind him, now grieving not only the loss of her husband, but feeling the loss of the warmth from Charles' body. Did she even have a right to feel that loss? Of either man? The guilt she still felt over Woody's death was unfathomable. The attraction she was feeling to Charles was still forbidden for her, at least in her own mind.

She still felt like he knew her too well. His compassion and tenderness this afternoon had poured healing on a sore spot in her soul with the mere touch of his hand. She didn't feel quite whole again, but at least she no longer felt like she was living on the ragged edge of nowhere by herself.