Chapter Nine

We Need to Talk

He saw her before she saw him. She quietly opened the door to the detectives' room and stood there for a moment…dressed in a denim skirt that hung nearly to her ankles and a bulky sweater that covered her hips. But in Woody's eyes, she always had looked lovely…the only thing he noticed was that the gold in the yarn of the sweater brought out the honey-colored flecks in her eyes.

She stood there alone and vulnerable for a few moments, scoping out the room, looking for him. She swallowed hard. This would probably be the most difficult thing she had ever done in her life, but Woody would have to know…he was the lead detective. She finally caught sight of him on the other side of the room, already making his way over to her. "Hi," he said, unsure of why she was here, but glad that she was.

"You're not using your cane," was the first words out of her mouth.

He smiled softly. "No… I was able to give it up last week."

Jordan mentally kicked herself for not noticing. She bit her lip and looked at her shoes. "I need to talk to you," she whispered, finally looking into his blue eyes, and finding them smiling at her.

"Could I take you dinner?"

She shook her head. "No…I think an interrogation room would be better." She felt the tears begin to well in her eyes.

"Jordan?" It hit him then. She had come to talk about her attack.

"Yeah…a room and a female detective…." She took a deep breath and looked into his face. "This is going to be hard, Woody."

Tentatively, he put his arm around her waist and pulled her close for just a second. He didn't feel her flinch. "It's going to be okay, sweetheart…..everything is going to be okay."

The next two hours were the hardest in Woody's life. He had to sit and listen as Jordan first apologized profusely for not coming forward before now, tearing up as she offered her explanation.

"Don't worry…it's okay…I promise," Woody told her.

"That's right, the most important thing is that you did come forward now," added Rene' Walcott, who had come in place of a female detective.

Jordan nodded numbly. It didn't feel okay. She only felt miserable, but knew she needed to follow through. In painstaking detail, she described her attack and what she remembered of her assailant.

Woody's emotions ranged from rage to sympathy to an increasing desire to protect this woman. He tried his best to keep his detective's mask in place as she finally finished her statement, sitting back in her chair and closing her eyes. "That's all I remember," she said. "It's still coming back to me in bits and pieces…more often at night than any other time…it comes in flashbacks and repressed memories. As time goes on, I may remember more." She handed Woody a notebook. "This has some of the stuff I remember at night. Nigel always would write it down as I told him."

Woody took the notebook and hoped Jordan wouldn't notice the trembling in his own fingers. "Thanks. This will be invaluable, Jo."

She simply nodded and reached for another tissue.

"Jordan…do you remember anything about what he looks like?" Rene' asked.

"No…he wore a ski mask…I just remember his eyes were gray…a cold gray."

Walcott nodded and patted Jordan's other hand. "If you remember anything else…day or night…"

"I know…I'll call," she said, her shoulders sagging with relief and dread all at the same time. Besides giving the police all the clues she had, she also knew she had sat herself up to testify against this man if he was ever caught. This was something she had no desire to do.

"And if I can help…call me," Walcott said, rising from her seat in the room. She nodded to Woody. "Take care of her, Detective."

Woody returned her nod and then turned his attention to Jordan, who was still gripping one of his hands tightly. She had taken it when she began to talk and had never let go. She probably wasn't even aware that she still held it. He placed his other hand over hers, too. "Jordan?"

Warily she looked at him. She fully expected to get that "look" that most detectives gave rape victims. To her surprise there was only warmth… "Yeah?"

"Can I take you back to Nigel's?"

She drew in a shaky breath. "I hoped…that after this…I would feel strong enough to go back to my apartment." She looked at him, searching for some reason why she didn't felt this way. "But I don't. I just want to go back to Nigel's, curl up in the bed, and sleep the next week away."

"That's normal, Jordan."

She sat back and closed her eyes. Of all the people she had never wanted to know, Woody was at the top of her list. And then as her luck would have it, he was the lead detective. But better he hear it from her than second hand from someone else who may have embellished her story. Finally, she drew a deep breath and stood up. Woody followed. "If….you could take me to Nigel's I would really appreciate it. I don't think I could drive right now and Nigel doesn't get off work for a few more hours…"

"Sure, Jordan." He kept her hand in his as he helped her from the room and into the elevator. When the doors shut, he cautiously pulled her closer. She went willingly and laid her head on his shoulder…thankful that he was there…even if she knew everything she had just told him had sealed the end of any relationship they had. He couldn't feel anything other than pity for her after that. But right now, his strength felt so good…and the warmth of his presence was so comforting…even if it was fleeting. The ride to the lobby of the police building was far too short.

The drive home, however, seemed to take forever. Woody didn't know what to say to comfort her….and Jordan was taking his silence as rejection. Nothing was heard except for the soft sound of her occasional sniffing. He reluctantly helped her up to Nigel's apartment and waited until she let herself in.

"I'm not going to ask if you're going to be okay," Woody began softly, gently taking her hand. "I know you will be….eventually. You're too much of a fighter not to be," he grinned at her. "But…do you need me to stay with you for a while?"

Jordan winced at his words. Stay a while… she had asked him to do this one other time…over a year ago… She drew a deep breath to steady her voice. "No…I'll be okay. I'm going to take a Tylenol and lay down until Nigel gets home."

Woody nodded. "I'll call and check on you later, okay?" he said, trying to look in her eyes.

"Sure…"

He headed for the door, but stopped, turned around and frowned. "I don't want to leave you by yourself, Jordan."

She smiled weakly. "What you going to do? Watch me sleep?"

"I wouldn't mind it."

She gave him a good natured push toward the door. "Go back to work, Detective. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

Woody let himself out of Nigel's apartment, Jordan shutting the door behind him and locking it. Resolutely, she walked into Nigel's kitchen, reached into the broom closet, behind the cleaning supplies and pulled out a bottle of bourbon that Nigel kept there, poured herself a double and downed it with a gulp.