Chapter Thirteen

Woody had never worked harder in his life. Once he returned to Boston, he remained intensely focused on the mob…infiltrating it….ending it once and for all or at least make it hemorrhage so badly that it would never fully recover and die a slow death. Rene' had freed him from most of his other detective duties and the FBI was allowing him full access to the case…within reason. "You have to understand that this is our sting," Murrow told him. "This is a courtesy between our office and the Boston PD."

"And the FBI doesn't have a personal stake in this…I have a wif—the mother of my daughter and my daughter caught in the crosshairs of your operation." He nearly said what he had been thinking for the weeks since he had returned from Seattle. Wife. He was already thinking of Jordan as his wife…in his mind…in his dreams…in his plans for their future, even if he hadn't asked her yet.

Thanks to a secure line, they had been able to talk, at least once a day, sometimes more often. Jordan would put the phone to Abby's ear so that the baby would remember her father's voice. Sometimes she would coo and other times try to eat the receiver. Woody dealt with it fine until one night Jordan told him Abby had something important to tell him. She put the phone to Abby's small face and Woody could hear Jordan in the background encouraging their daughter, "Say it, baby…say what we've been practicing today.."

Woody nearly lost it when he heard Abby's voice say "Dada" on the other end of the line.

"When did she learn that?" he asked after Jordan came back on the phone when Abby had repeated the word a dozen more times.

"We've been practicing for a couple of days. I wanted to surprise you."

"Well…you did. God, I miss her, Jordan. I miss you and her…are you both doing okay?"

"As well as can be expected. We miss you and want to come home."

"Soon….very soon."

And the case was coming together very quickly. There was an inside informant that had been working in the mob for months…one that the mob initially didn't trust, but had come to grudgingly confide in. He was to meet with the Boston PD and FBI in two nights to be wired. Then he was to attend a meeting with the Albanian mob bosses that had flown in from Europe. Hopefully, if everything happened the way the informant predicted, it would all be over…and by the end of the week, Jordan and Abby should be home.

Woody prayed harder than he ever did in his life. He wanted his girls home. He was tired of worrying and wondering. Jordan was doing better…she was working part time and getting more rest. She was healthier, Woody could hear it in her voice when they talked.

He also heard a familiar ache in her tone…he knew it well because he was sure his voice had the same one in it. She was homesick for Boston, for her friends, and mostly for him.

So on the night that he, the Boston PD, and the FBI were to meet with the informant, he held his breath and tried to focus…and he did until the informant walked into the room. It was Cal.

"You can shut your mouth now, bro," Cal said, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole situation.

Open-mouthed, Woody had looked wordlessly from Murrow to Rene to his chief. "How…how….long?"

"Since the initial raid at the Albanian bar you made over a year ago. Cal came to us. He's proved to be a valuable insider. But having him and Jordan so close to you was tricky. We had to keep you in the dark to keep you, her, and Cal safe," said Murrow.

The pieces were beginning to fit a little tighter in the puzzle. Woody watched as Cal was carefully wired and it was tested. "Does Jordan know?" Woody asked suddenly, wondering exactly how much had been kept from him.

"As far as I know she doesn't have a clue. I wasn't about to tell her. She either would have tried to help, talk me out of it, or tattle to you," Cal said. "Am I good to go?" he asked Murrow.

"Yep. Be careful, Hoyt."

Cal grinned and walked over to Woody. "See, I told you I was turning my life around…trying to be like you…am I forgiven?"

Woody hugged his brother. "You were forgiven months ago. Now go catch the bad guys."

And with a wave, Cal was gone.

Shaking his head, Woody tried to remember exactly what happened in the last 24 hours. Cal's wired meeting with the mob had been successful. The Boston PD raided the meeting and they arrested the local mob leaders. The FBI had gotten the European ones.

Cal was praised for his work and initiative. Rene' was trying to nominate him for some kind of award. He said he really just wanted to go somewhere and sleep for a month. He had gotten precious little rest since he found out Jordan was pregnant … he had worked double time to make sure she was kept safe and could be reunited with Woody.

And now Woody was waiting at the airport for Jordan and Abby. He had called her immediately after all the prisoners had been booked and told her what happened. Nigel was e-mailing her the ticket information. "Pack your clothes and Abby's toys…we'll worry about a crib and stuff when you get here. Just….just come home."

"I understand congratulations are in order, detective," a voice said behind him. It was Garret. He and Nigel had come to greet Jordan, too.

"Yeah…they're coming home."

"How does it feel to be a dad?"

Woody swallowed hard. "Great…scary…"

Garret nodded. "I remember….it's a big job, but it has great rewards."

"So how long have known about Abby?"

"Since the day she was born. It was hard as hell keeping it from you. I tried to avoid you as much as possible."

"I understand…"

"And now it's over."

"No, I'd say it was just beginning," Woody quietly answered as the announcement that Jordan's plane had arrived and they saw her walk down the ramp into the terminal, holding Abby.

"They gave you a shower?" Jordan asked incredulously as she and Abby entered Woody's apartment, now a little cramped with all the baby gear.

"Yep. Got a crib, a stroller, one of those diaper thingies, diapers…clothes…you name it, we got it."

Jordan surveyed the baby paraphernalia with interest. It looked like someone had just bought out the Baby Superstore. "How many people were at this shower, Woody?" as she put down a sleeping Abby in the new crib that Woody had set up.

"Let's see….it was all the morgue employees, of course. And the Boston PD. And your friends at the FBI."

She sighed. "Then I don't think we're going to need anything for a long time, detective."

Woody shook his head. "I don't think so. I spoke to Paul at St. Inez….we can get Abigail christened in two weeks."

Jordan smiled. "That would be good…really nice."

"He was really excited for us. Said he hoped it would be the first of many christenings for us…." Woody's voice trailed off as he read the surprise in Jordan's eyes.

"Many?'

"Yeah, I'd like a couple of more kids…what about you?"

"Woody….I don't know….I mean, Abby was so difficult….Maybe because I had to do it all by myself."

"I'd be there this time….for you…as your husband." Woody's voice dropped to a whisper as he pulled her to him.

"Husband?" Her voice came out as a squeak.

"Ummhmmm. What do you say, Dr. Cavanaugh? Feel like changing your name one more time?"

Once again Jordan smiled up at him. They had both danced with the devil himself with this Albanian mob case…they had danced and then paid the dues for it. Maybe…just maybe now it was time to relax and enjoy Abby and each other for awhile. Giving a staged dramatic sigh, she rolled her eyes and said, "Yes, but this is absolutely the last time."

"It'd better be," growled Woody, swinging her around the small space in their apartment before carrying her to the bedroom.