Chapter Four

Bodies and Birthdays

Woody had always hated domestic calls – from the time he was a sheriff in Kewuanne, to the first time he was a detective with the Boston PD, to his time in San Diego, to now….domestic calls for him were the equivalent of having half his teeth pulled with no Novocain.

And normally his present rank would have opted him out from taking such a call. But flu season was beginning its cycle, and that coupled with a heavy case load for the majority of the other homicide detectives required him to pitch in and work a few "regular" cases in addition to his other responsibilities.

So it was a dead wife and the allegedly guilty husband that brought him back to working with Jordan for the first time since he had returned to Boston. She was facing the same administrative difficulties he was…an overworked staff that was off a few members due to the flu, and she was having to pick up the slack.

She hasn't changed that much at all…at least not as far as being an ME is concerned, Woody thought as he watched her do the autopsy on the woman that had met her death by asphyxiation. Jordan performed her duties with the same thoroughness he remembered – checking and re-checking evidence…not just giving the obvious a precursory look, but closely examining everything. The one thing missing was the tension-filled drive that used to be present during her work. She was still just as committed to finding the truth. She was still just as committed to justice.

She just wasn't as committed to driving everyone crazy to obtain it.

Woody didn't know whether to chalk that up to the new, softer side of Jordan he was now seeing or the fact that maybe she had worked at her job for so long now that she understood her driving ambition to solve her cases wasn't always a good or easy thing for the staff to endure.

Whatever it is, it looks good on her, he reflected as he stood behind her and continued to observe the procedure.

"You know I hate it when you do that," she finally said from behind her face shield.

"What?" Woody feigned innocence.

"Stand over my shoulder and watch me. It's like….you're breathing down my neck to get done."

"Sorry…." Woody slid around to the other side of the table and propped on a stool. "Better?"

"Much. Thanks."

"So….what do you think we have?"

"Well," Jordan said, retracting a throat tube from out of the woman, "there's fibers in her esophagus, and hemorrhaging behind the eyes…if the fibers match something the husband had access to…and you can pin it on him….he's the murderer."

Woody grunted. DNA would be useless here….the man and woman lived together…as would fingerprints. Maybe if a neighbor heard something, he could get lucky before the week was out and solve this domestic dilemma. A popping sound brought his attention back to where he was. Jordan was stretching her back.

"Age can be a bitch sometimes, can't it?' he asked with a grin.

"Speak for yourself, detective," Jordan replied sounding slightly miffed. "Standing on concrete floors all day gets to anyone's back."

"You've been on your feet all day?"

"Bug, Sydney, and Peter are out with the flu. It's me and Nigel right now, but I did coerce Garret into coming in tomorrow and helping out."

"That sounds like….fun. If fun can be had at the morgue."

"It will seem like old times, anyway."

Woody nodded, making a mental note to stop by and see Garret tomorrow. He was the one person the detective had not had contact with since returning to Boston. He watched her pull the sheet up over the dead woman and get her ready for the family to positively ID. "Are you through for the evening?" he asked.

"Pretty much…unless there's another case you're not telling me about."

"Well…it's not a case, but I was I take you to dinner?"

Jordan nearly blanched. "Umm…no….there's somewhere I have to be tonight."

Catching the look on her face, Woody's expression and tone darkened. "There's nothing anywhere that says we can't be friends, Jo. Nothing. And I don't care what the Massachusetts State Employee Handbook says. The fact that the Chief ME and the Lieutenant over the homicide department might occasionally have dinner together to discuss cases, is nothing for anyone to get hot and bothered about."

Jordan let a slow smile slide across her face. "It's not that, Woody. Honest. I just…have somewhere I have to be tonight….I made someone else a promise I'd have dinner with him tonight." She took off her face shield and snapped off her gloves, turning her back to him and tossing them into the hazmat container. "I'm sorry…maybe next time?"

He waited a beat. I bring a movie by your apartment later…we could watch it and catch up…we really haven't had much of a chance to find out what each other has done over the past fifteen years."

Absented-mindedly, Jordan headed for the door of the autopsy room. "Not tonight, Woody. After I get back from dinner with Will, I'm heading for bed. I'm bushed. And I don't live in an apartment any longer. I have a house…." Her voice trailed off as she headed for the ladies locker room to change.

Not used to being dismissed from her or other women in such an abrupt manner, for a moment Woody was at a loss to know what to do. Jordan was obviously so caught up in the thoughts of having dinner with this Will guy that she had forgotten she had left him alone in autopsy. Indeed, as Woody watch her emerge from the locker room, changed and ready to leave on her date with that man, she seemed single-minded in her objective…to get out of the morgue as soon as possible so she could be with him.

She hadn't told Woody much, but she had told him enough that his curiosity was aroused. He waited until she had taken the elevator to the lobby before he punched the down button for the next car.

"Sorry I'm late," Jordan apologized to Will as she slid in her seat across from him at Olive Garden.

"No problem , Mom. I got your text message about the case. How'd it go?"

"Pretty much what everyone thought. The husband did it. Now the police just have to prove it."

Will nodded and sipped his soda. "I wasn't sure what you wanted to drink…."

Jordan nodded and signaled to the waitress they were ready to order. "What do you want, son?" she asked.

"I'm not sure…"

"Get whatever you want….after all, this is your birthday gig." She grinned at Will. Tonight wasn't really his birthday. It was next weekend…but between her work schedule now and Will's soccer games and school, tonight was the only night they could come up with to celebrate his upcoming sixteenth birthday. He would have a traditional, huge, sixteenth birthday bash…complete with DJ and food….and whatever else he wanted….but tonight was their time….just Will's and hers…to celebrate.

"Okay…..I'll have the Chicken Marsalis…." Will said.

"And I'll have Fettuccini Alfredo…. With a tea," Jordan finished, closing her menu and handing it to the waitress. "And we will be ordering dessert. This guy has a birthday…"

"Aw….Mom…."

Jordan chuckled at his embarrassment. "Okay…so do you want your present now…or at your 'real' birthday party?"

"Now….what do you think?"

Smiling, Jordan handed him a card. Will ripped it open and was pleased to see money on the inside. Quickly he counted it up and his eyes got big. "Mom…that's too much."

"You only turn sixteen once. Just don't spend it all at one place. And spend it on something you really want."

Will opened his mouth to reply when a fit of coughing took over. Concerned, Jordan reached across the table to feel her son's forehead. "No fever….but how long have you had that cough?"

"It started again this afternoon."

"Did you take your meds?"

"Yeah."

Jordan frowned. "I think I need to call Dr. Reed again, Will. You've been getting sick too often it seems this year."

"Mom, I had my physical in August before we started soccer practice. I was given a clean bill of health….and you had them do blood work and made me pee in a cup….everything. They said I was fine, I just had allergies."

"Still…it would make me feel better."

Will sighed. As mothers go, he and his mom didn't have the problems a lot of his friends and their moms had. He had a good relationship with Jordan and he admired and loved her for the fine line she walked so perfectly…the line between motherhood and friendship with him.

But he also knew when to throw in the towel and admit defeat. And where his health was concerned was one of those times. He assumed that with his mom being a ME, she was just a little more paranoid than most "normal" parents were concerning his well-being. And he had learned early on this was one area in his life she allowed no give or take…it was her way or no way at all. "Um….sure, Mom. Make me an appointment with Dr. Reed. Just …could it wait until after my party next weekend?"

Jordan nodded. "Of course…as long as you don't run a high fever." She tried to appear nonchalant about the whole thing, but the truth was, she wasn't. Ever since Will had been born a few weeks premature, she had been border-line obsessive about his health.

But the sight of your infant on a respirator is not a vision easily forgotten.

So every time Will caught a cold, a sore throat…anything, her heart would nearly stop. Her fears and paranoia had gotten better as he got older, but it seemed this fall, Will had picked up every little germ-bug that came his way. After trying five different kinds of cough medicines and decongestants, Dr. Reed had sent Will to an allergy specialist for testing. The results showed that Will had mild allergies. He was now on the injections to help him handle the allergies better, but it seemed he still was getting sick far too often …far more frequently… than he ever had before.

And with Jordan being a doctor, she knew something still wasn't working quite right….there was something there she felt she couldn't put her finger on….and it worried her.

However, Will's smile brought her back to reality. "I'm fine, Mom. Really."

Tonight was not the night to obsess about this cold. Tomorrow would be soon enough. Tonight…they were celebrating sixteen years of her son's life. "I know," she said. "Just….happy birthday, son."

So she's not in her apartment any longer…not that I expected her to be, Woody mused as he took the elevator down after Jordan. He crossed the street at a jog and settled back at his desk. It was after five now, and the room was nearly deserted. With the exception of a few rookies who were struggling to finish today's paperwork, he was alone.

It wasn't what Jordan had told him about herself that further sparked his curiosity about her. It was what she didn't tell him – where she lived…and who was Will? Jordan had no rings on her fingers….so he was assuming she was divorced and dating someone else.

Funny…despite Jordan's fears and phobias about commitment, Woody had always thought that once she did make up her mind about a relationship, she would be committed to that person for life.

Maybe she didn't want the divorce. Maybe her husband did. Maybe her driving tenaciousness to solve cases was what drove them apart. Maybe that was the reason she was calmer, warmer….softer than he ever remembered. Maybe she was changing her behavior so that if she did re-marry, the same thing wouldn't happen again.

Woody didn't know for sure. But he wanted to find out. After booting up his computer, he deftly hacked his way into the Massachusetts Department of Motor Vehicles. There she was…1213 Ward Street….

Ward Street? Gee, that's suburbia-city, he thought. Somehow he had a hard time imagining Jordan in a cookie-cutter neighborhood with sidewalks and a community swimming pool. The vision of her bohemian-style apartment on Pearle Street was still fresh in his mind.

Maybe….maybe she had changed far more than he ever even imagined. Maybe her then-husband wanted to live there and she had loved him enough to acquiesce.

That was a change.

He couldn't imagine her giving up her life style – at least without a fight – for anyone.

She must have really loved her husband.

And if she loved him that much, then why….why the divorce? Maybe her husband did initiate it. A burning feeling of protectiveness and anger wreathed its way around Woody's chest. How dare someone else in Jordan's life abandon her?

Woody shook his head. He was jumping conclusions far too quickly. Garret would be back in the morgue tomorrow. And if anyone could give him the answers, it was the former chief ME.

If I can get Garret to go out with me for a few drinks after work…I may learn what I want to find out, Woody thought.

But just why are you so interested….she's seeing someone else and has told you that you two can't revisit your past, his conscious blurted out.

I never said I wanted to revisit my past… Woody argued back.

But you…his conscious responded.

Can it. I just need to know…

Why?

This time Woody didn't have an answer. He really wasn't sure.