I forgot to disclaim you in chapter one. So here it is:
All of the toys belong to Tim Kring. Not me.
And thanks, RobandChrisMom, for the idea and inspiration. It's been a long time coming, but I hope I do your idea proud.
Chapter Two
The Good Detective
"Come on Woods, give me just a minute of your precious time…"
"Nothing doing, Calvin. I told you when I kicked you out of my apartment that it was over…our relationship as brothers had ended. You may be the baby, but I didn't owe you anymore. You are grown man and are, or at least should be, responsible for your own actions. I'm not bailing you out of whatever trouble you're in now," Woody replied firmly to his brother, all the time walking quickly down the hall of the precinct to get away from Cal. The truth was that his brother's presence unnerved him…especially at the police station where the cell phone with his brother's number in it was still in the evidence locker. One quick check of the area codes would place that call as a Kewuanne, Wisconsin number. And any detective with half a brain could quickly find out who the call was to and determine that Cal was Woody's brother.
And that Woody may have deliberately buried evidence against Calvin.
While he didn't bury it, he certainly did nothing to reveal the source. And to have covered for a mole in the Albanian mob would force Woody to kiss his budding police career good-bye.
"But I am…" Cal replied, rushing to catch up with Woody.
"Am what? In trouble again?"
"No. Trying to take responsibility for my actions. I'm back in that twelve-step program and the fourth step is making restitution…and while I can never repay you for everything you've done…"
"You damn well said that right," Woody interrupted, stopping at his office door and taking out his keys.
"I am trying to tell you that I'm sorry….and that I'd like for us to be brothers again."
Woody paused before turning the door knob to go into his office and begin another day's round of paperwork. If he received a clean bill of health from the doctor this afternoon, hopefully this part of his job would be over with for a while and he could go back to being a normal detective with a badge, a gun, a car, and a back log of cases.
But ready to restore a relationship with his brother? He didn't think so. If he came out of the sniper attack with anything, it was with two sharp realizations. The first is that he would never again take for granted the sheer joy of walking on his own two legs again.
The second one was an equally sharp skepticism of anything anyone told him. Especially Calvin Hoyt or Jordan Cavanaugh. As far as Woody was concerned, both of those charlatans were out of his life for good. He may have to see them occasionally, but that didn't mean he had to have deep, trusting relationships with either.
And he didn't intend to.
"No," he replied, once again in a firm tone of voice that told Cal he meant business. He went into his office and began to shut the door only to find his brother's foot solidly wedged between the door jam and the door, stopping him from shutting it completely.
"Why?" Cal asked. He had always been stronger than Woody and now with Woody still recovering from the shooting, Calvin used his strength to his advantage.
"Because Calvin. I'm tired of being used. By you…and other people. I don't have 'welcome' written across my forehead or my ass."
"By other people, you mean Jordan."
Woody nodded. "You and her…you're both out of my life now. If I let either or both of you back in, it will be when and if I'm ready. And that time's not now. So please…get out…now," he said, echoing the words he had told Jordan months ago.
Cal sighed. "Okay, Woods. I can't make you let me have a place in your life again…and I can't say I blame you that you don't believe me when I tell you I've changed and I am really, truly sorry for what happened with Albie and the mob…and how much I regret putting the people you love in jeopardy. Especially Jordan."
"Then you'll understand that I really don't believe you when you tell me you've changed?"
"I do."
"Good. Now please go."
Cal took a piece of paper from his jeans pocket and slammed it in Woody's hand. "I will…but I'm going to be in Boston for a few days. I'd really like to get together with you and at least…just talk. Over burgers or something. My treat. Then I'll get out of your life for good. And I won't contact you again…I'll wait for you to call me when you're ready to be brothers once more…or you need me. That slip of paper has my new cell phone number on it. And my phone is on my hip unless I'm asleep or in the shower."
Woody glanced down at the number, folded the piece of paper and dropped it in his coat pocket. "I don't think so, Cal. I'm trying to move on with my life…and this time it's a life without you or Jordan in it. I appreciate your efforts…but ….no."
Cal nodded, removed his foot from the door and turned to go. "Okay, Woods. I hear you loud and clear. And respect what you're saying. But now I need to go to the morgue and apologize to Jordan…for putting her in danger."
Woody's head snapped up quickly. "She's not at work."
Cal looked at his brother in disbelief. "You're lying. You just don't want me to talk to your girl."
"She's not my girl. She never was and never will be – I don't want her to be. But she's not in her office. She's out with the flu."
"Then for a guy that is moving on with his life without that beautiful woman in it, you sure are keeping close tabs on her."
Walking down the sidewalk with his hands thrust deep in his jeans pocket, Calvin began to sort out his thoughts after talking to Woody. Woody – the older brother…the ever-responsible one. Only it seemed that Woody was tired of that role. The only person Woody wanted to be responsible for now was himself.
Woody had pushed Jordan out of his life. Cal wondered what could have happened to make his brother reach the conclusion that Jordan was no longer the girl he wanted or needed. Cal would bet any money it had something to do with Woody's injuries after the sniper attack. Jordan had called Cal about the shooting, but at that time, he was deep in the throes of the first step of the twelve step narcotics anonymous program and couldn't be reached. She had left a message. By the time he could get the information, whatever had happened between Woody and Jordan must have already gone down. When he called the hospital to check on his brother, after the nurse gave him a run down of Woody's physical condition, she gave him a detailed account of his emotional status, which had been far shakier than his unwilling legs.
Woody didn't have many visitors, except for his fellow detectives and police officers. And he seemed content to be alone. There had been a pretty brunette that had sat by his beside for hours at first, but then she left his room in tears one day and didn't return. With this information, Cal had taken it that it was probably better that Woody not have any visitors he didn't want to see. Not that he could have left his rehab center to come to Boston anyway.
He got in his cheap rent-a-car and made his way back to the equally cheap hotel he was staying at. He'd be in these luxurious accommodations for five days and four more nights. Maybe Woody would change his mind about seeing him during that time. Maybe…Woody would decide he at least needed his brother a little.
Woody sat down heavily in his desk chair, staring at the slip of paper Cal had given him. He could feel a headache building…pure tension. He shook his head to clear it a little as he tried to make some sense of what just happened.
Cal was back in Boston.
Cal wanted to make restitution.
Cal tried to apologize.
Cal wanted to be brothers again.
Woody pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Just the time he thought he had finally put his relationships in perspective and had begun moving on with his life, all these skeletons kept rattling around trying to escape their respective closets. He knew that if the doctor said he was now fit to be back on the streets and could kiss desk duty good bye, he would have to face Jordan at some point. The morgue community was too small for him not to and he couldn't afford to refuse a call just because she was the answering ME. He was preparing himself for that.
But Cal? That was a monkey wrench in his plans…a fly in his ointment…a problem he had not anticipated on dealing with for a while. He groaned in pure irritation. Cal was right in one perspective. They were brothers. The only closely related blood-kin Woody had.
He wasn't ready to talk to Cal now. He wanted to wait and make sure his brother had really changed…that Cal wasn't out to fool him yet one more time. Maybe next summer…after enough time and enough dust had settled that Woody had a better grip on his emotions. This would also let him know if Cal was serious and that he had really changed. Woody deliberately pulled out his personal cell phone and programmed Cal's number in it before discarding the slip of paper in the trash can. The one thing Woody didn't need more of in his life was paper. He had processed hundreds of miles of it during his confinement of desk duty.
And hopefully, this afternoon the doctor would unshackle him from it and allow him to be what he really was – a good detective.
