Chapter Thirteen

Appealing for Help

Woody left her office somewhat dazed and somewhat relieved. Relieved because Jordan was doing well…the baby and she were both healthy. Dazed because he still couldn't believe he was going to be a father…Jordan was pregnant…with his child.

Thoughts whirled through his head. Too pent up to go back to his desk and sit for hours, he ducked into the officers' locker room and changed into his workout clothes and set out for a run. Jogging past the familiar landscape, Woody could allow his mind to drift while his now fully functioning legs ran on auto-pilot.

She's pregnant…with my baby. I know what my old man would say… I need to marry her. Give her and the child my last name. They're now my responsibility. Yeah — I know Jordan would like that…she'd hate being called 'my responsibility'…much less Mrs. Woodrow Hoyt.

However, the thought of Jordan as his wife didn't rankle him like he thought it would. When he had kicked her out of his hospital room, he sincerely wanted to be through with her. Begin his life again without her…without her hang ups….without her insecurities…the very things that made Jordan…Jordan. But somehow, he never could. Even when he had gone out of his way to avoid her for seven months, it never got any easier. He would date other women, go back home, and dream of her whiskey-colored eyes and small, ripe mouth. And her intellect. No other woman could match her.

He had no doubt that marriage to her would be a challenge…some days minute by minute. Not that living with him would be a piece of cake, either. Their life together might be many things, but boring wouldn't be one of them. But that one night in the vault-room and that night in her apartment had showed him two things. First, they could still get along…they still cared for each other…and second, the sexual fireworks they had always managed somehow to stifle between each other could still flare into searing flames.

Flames that they both could spend the better part of a life enjoying…along with their child…or children, if so blessed. They just needed to dig out the layers of hurt and resentment that had grown up around both of them…to somehow get back to that time before the sniper…before he tried to give her that friendship ring…back to when they both were willing to bend a little for a relationship with each other.

However, Woody wasn't kidding himself. He knew he was the one that needed most of the work. The lingering anger that he had because of his injuries and his assailant should be dealt with first, because anything could set it off. No matter how careful he was … no matter how much he tried to be in control, sometimes he would go off at the least little thing.

He never wanted the woman he loved or his child to be that target.

But he couldn't do it himself. Resolutely, he ran past the precinct again, down and alley and across a parking lot to a brownstone and knocked. When the door opened, he introduced himself. "Dr. Stiles, you don't know me, but I'm Woody Hoyt. I was the detective that was shot by the sniper last year…I was wondering if you could spare a few minutes of your time?"

"Wait…hang on Drew….you're going too fast….slow down," Jordan said into her cell phone.

"I said, we've had another murder of a French diplomat in DC, but the crime has the MO of the guy that's been killing the senators. Could you and Hoyt get down here ASAP? We've looked at all the other deaths together…I'd like your input on this one. I hope to God we're close to wrapping this one up."

"I know I can…I'll give Woody a call, but I have a feeling his supervisor won't have any trouble letting him come to DC now."

"Great. Let me know. I'll have tickets waiting for you two at the airport."

Jordan hung up and absent-mindedly rubbed expanding tummy. She was now at five months. She had revealed to Lily, Bug, and Nigel some weeks ago that she was pregnant. Their initial reaction was shock. "How did this happen to you?" Bug had asked, in all seriousness.

"What's the matter, Bug? You sleep through that chapter in biology?" Jordan had teased.

"No…no…not that…it's just that I thought you weren't seeing anyone right now."

"I'm not…it just kind of happened."

"Yeah, in a locked vault room of the cold case files," Nigel retorted, quickly putting two and two together.

"You're wrong," Jordan had replied.

But the criminalist wouldn't let up. Nigel had found Jordan alone in her office later that day. "It's Woody's baby," he blurted out, "isn't it?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Because he's the only man I know of that could make you drop your knickers even though he's behaved like a total ass. You love him…you always have and you always will. It may not have happened in that vault-room, but that," he said pointing to the slight bulge in Jordan's abdomen, "is Woody's handiwork, is it not?"

Swallowing hard, Jordan nodded. "Are you disappointed in me?" she whispered. Nigel was her best friend…he had stood by her for so long, that the prospects of disappointing him did bother her…a lot.

"Disappointed? In you…for following your heart? No love. I just want to know that Woody's going to be a man about this."

"What? Marry me, give me a little white house with a picket fence, with 2.5 kids and a dog?"

Nigel shook his head. "No, love. Be there for you. Own up to the fact that this precious little bit," he rested his hand on Jordan's belly, "is his."

"He has, Nige. He knows it's his…he's not shirking his duty. He's been with me to have the sonogram done. He keeps a check on me. He's going to pay part of the hospital bill."

"But has he agreed to be the baby's father? Be around for the little tyke?"

Jordan lowered her head. "I know he'll be there for the baby. We just haven't discussed in what capacity."

And that was the truth. Woody had gone with Jordan for the sonogram…both of them captivated by the tiny image on the screen of their baby. At the end, the doctor had printed out several pictures from the computer of their child. Woody had asked for one, which he promptly put in his wallet. From that point on, he called Jordan several times a day to check on her…even took her out to eat on nights he knew she had to work late so that he could be assured that she was getting proper nutrition. Often, at the end of a long shift, she'd find him waiting on her after she had changed out of her scrubs. He would massage her feet for her before she had to shove them back into her sneakers and go home.

But they had never really discussed their future as parents.

Setting those thoughts aside, she punched one on speed dial. "Woody…Drew needs us in DC as soon as we can get there. There was a murder of a French diplomat that has the same MO as the murdered senators. He wants our input. Can you go? You can. Good. I'll call Drew back. He said he'd have the airline tickets waiting for us at the gate."

She sighed and hung up the phone, still rubbing her tummy. Talking to Woody was getting easier and easier, and something she dreaded less and less. She had noticed that his anger towards her was slowly going away…he seemed more like the old Woody she had known and loved.

And she was finding that dangerously appealing.