Chapter Six

Locked In

Where the hell is she? Woody thought irritably to himself the next morning. She's two hours late….He was ready to try to wrap the case up…and get back to his office…back to his corner of the world…back to where he didn't have to see her on a daily basis. It was bothering him more than he let on. Just when he thought he had his act together around her, the scent of her perfume would float over to him, wreathing around his senses and pull him back to her…or her eyes would still flash a look of hurt and confusion. Especially when he lost his temper with her.

Which happened on nearly a daily basis now. His foul mouth and his foul temper was his way of coping and keeping her at a distance. He hoped it was working. God knows they didn't need to even think about starting that "dance" again they had done for four years.

Supposedly she had changed. That's what he had heard. And he had to admit, to a degree, she had. She was quieter. More feminine. Everything about her was…not that it wasn't before. But then…back when they worked together on nearly a daily basis… her jeans and shirts reflected the curves of her figure and the length of her legs. She was sex-appeal and intelligence rolled up into one delectable package.

Now, dressed in her skirts and blouses or dresses…both that still emphasized the length of her legs, although now encased in nylon…she was still sex appeal, but this time it was wrapped in a package of intelligence and breathtaking femininity. He kept wanting to put his hand on the small of her back again … he fought the urge daily. Frustrated he flung down the file in his hand and raised his voice, "Jordan!"

"She's not here," Dr. Macy said, stopping by the door to the conference room. "So there's no use yelling.

"Great…where is she….and where is Haley?"

Garret shrugged. "Jordan has enough vacation days and sick days built up that she could take six months off. She'll call soon enough if she's not feeling well."

"She's not sick. She's going to be late," said Drew, sliding past Garret into the conference room.

"She's going to be late? Did she call you?" Woody asked.

"Not exactly…" Drew's voice trailed off as Jordan came in right behind him.

"Sorry I'm late. As corny as this sounds, it's the truth: My alarm clock didn't go off this morning until an hour and a half after it was supposed to. It somehow got reset."

Drew looked at her and grinned. "I reset it last night after I put you to bed…I figured you'd need some extra sleep this morning." He deliberately held Jordan's gaze, knowing that Woody was taking it all in and filtering it through his mind.

Jordan felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She had wondered how she got into her bed last night….she couldn't remember anything much after the third glass of wine. She was also excruciatingly aware of Woody's glaring stare.

"If you two are through, let's get busy. We have a lot of ground to cover today," Woody bit out through near-clenched teeth.

"Of course," Drew said smoothly, pulling out a chair for Jordan to sit in. "Can I get you some coffee, Jordan?"

She nodded. "That would be nice. Black, please."

Drew left to get the coffee. There was an awkward silence between Jordan and Woody. She shifted through reports and photos, waiting on Drew to come back. Woody didn't say anything, but simply gazed back and forth from the Boston skyline at the window to her face. Thankfully Drew didn't take long.

And that's how it went the rest of the day…a quiet group trying to solve a possible string of serial killings that involved United States senators…piecing together evidence from three states. Woody was careful not to raise his voice or temper to Jordan that day. Of course, she didn't really give him a chance. She was monosyllabic to him most of the afternoon. He inwardly sighed with frustration.

Five o'clock finally rolled around and all three of them were anxious to leave for the day. Drew had carefully watched Woody and Jordan all day. He knew what Woody was thinking …that the profiler and Jordan had spent the night together last night…and had occupied most of that time making love…which was why she was so tired and the reason why she was late.

He did nothing to dispel that train of thought.

He wasn't quite sure what Jordan was thinking…but he was aware she knew that didn't happen. She was probably worried about how much she had told him.

The group got ready to leave. Jordan picked up her coat and briefcase, heading towards her office. "You're not going home?" Drew asked.

"I need to check my e-mail and look at some reports first."

"But you'll go soon and get some rest tonight?" he continued, raising one eyebrow.

She nodded and turned her attention to her computer. She didn't feel like dealing with him tonight…she didn't feel up to dealing with anyone or anything but her own thoughts. Which weren't very happy ones. She was well aware of what Woody must think. What bothered her most was that she was worried abut what he may have concluded. Why should she be concerned about that after all this time? He had moved on, why shouldn't he believe that she had, too?

Sighing, she finally turned her computer off and got ready to leave. It was only six-thirty…and summer time in Boston. The days were longer…it was staying light outside now until nearly nine o'clock. Maybe she'd go home, change into jeans and take a walk in the park…think through some things and get some perspective. Then go home and collapse into bed.

"I didn't think you'd still be here," said a quiet voice from her doorway. It was Woody.

"I was just getting ready to leave. I figured you'd be long gone by now…What's up? How long are you keeping the ladies waiting tonight?"

Woody grimaced to himself. If she only knew…how many nights he spent at his desk doing paperwork…how many nights he spent with women that were never quite as beautiful…never quite as smart…as she was.

Because they simply weren't her.

"Ah…at least for a little while longer. I got to thinking after we left for the evening….Do you remember the Simmons murder?"

Jordan nodded…it was the second case they had worked on together after he arrived in Boston. Bob Simmons was a senatorial candidate…everyone…from the press on down…knew he was going to win the election. He was leading in every poll by a wide margin…until he was gunned down in front of his hotel room. Suddenly her eyes widened. "You don't think?"

"The caliber of the bullet is the same. The box of evidence is in storage. Want to go get it and look at it with me? Maybe we both can pull one over on Haley in the morning…."

"Sure." Jordan got up from her chair and followed him out the door…across the street to the precinct…and down into the basement to the cold case file room. Then he led her through another door. "It's not in cold case?" she asked, slightly confused.

"The high profile cases are kept separately…in this room." He pushed open the door. "It's specially treated to keep humidity at a minimum and the only light comes in from that window at the top." He pointed to a narrow window at the top of the wall. "Help me find the box, okay?"

Fortunately, it wasn't hard to locate. It was near the top of the fourth shelf. Woody pulled it down and put it on the small table at the side of the tiny room. For nearly an hour, they shifted through the evidence, comparing it to the current murder. Finally, Woody put everything back in the box. "It's enough for me. I'll bring it to Haley tomorrow morning. This may throw him for a loop, but our killer may have been at this for longer than any of us have thought." He put the lid on the box and they both began to walk toward the door when it slammed shut and they both heard the weights in the door shift as it locked.

Woody groaned. He had forgotten the doors to the special cold case files were kept in a vault-like room. A vault-like room that locked on a timer system.

A timer system he didn't know how to override.

They were stuck…in a six by four room until tomorrow morning at nine.

Together

Alone.