Chapter Five

Us?

Unconsciousness is a funny thing. As the mind sort of comes and goes and with it, reality and time stand still. When Woody was finally able to lift his reluctant eyelids, he wasn't sure if it had been fifteen seconds, fifteen minutes, or fifteen days since Jordan had been in his room.

He was hoping for the seconds – he might be able to catch her before she left the hospital. Her whispered words still buzzed in his ear and twisted his heart. She still loved him…despite everything he had done and said to her, she still loved him. Her warm, wet tears were now long gone from his face, but he could still feel them on his skin.

Urgently he felt around the bed until he found the nurses' call button. Ringing it twice, he lay back and waited until Tracey came in his room. When she saw he was finally awake, she took his vitals one more time. "When did you finally decide to wake up?" she asked.

"A minute ago. When can I get out of here?"

"You've been unconscious for several days, Detective. The doctor will have to give you a look over before he releases you."

"How soon can that happen?"

Tracey looked at Woody with an amused smile on her face. "He'll be in after lunch. What's the hurry?"

"The girl that was in here earlier…"

"Which one?"

Dear God, there's been more than one? Who? His frantic mind raced. "She's petite…brown hair, brown eyes…crutches."

"Ah…you knew Jordan was here?"

"I overheard your conversation…."

Tracey gave him a meaningful look. "Then you know she saved your life."

Woody nodded. "How long ago was that?"

"Jordan was in day before yesterday."

Woody nodded. He had to get out of the hospital and get to her as quickly as possible. When Jordan had told him good-bye, his first fear was that she would run…move from Boston back to LA, or Atlanta, or New York…or one of the other half-a-dozen places she had lived before.

And he was deathly afraid that after the doctor released him, he would go back to her apartment and find it empty…and her completely out of his life forever. A cold sweat broke out on his brow. "Call the doctor and tell him to come now. I have to get out of here…I have to stop her before…before…"

"Before what?" Tracey asked, her eyes alight with curiosity.

"Before…before she leaves."


"What happened to you?" Woody asked, trying to act casual as he leaned against her office doorway, a stack of reports in his hand – ruses, actually – to give him admittance into her office.

He didn't think he had ever seen a more gratifying site, or had ever seen her look lovelier. When he had been released from the hospital, he called Garret, who confirmed what Tracey had told him. Jordan had pulled both Woody and Cal out of the burning house. Garret also agreed with Tracey…Jordan didn't want either brother to know what she did…she wanted the event to be used to help reconcile the two men. She knew all too well what it was like to only have one close living relative…and the pain you felt when that person walked out of your life.

But she didn't leave, like he feared she would do. She stayed in Boston. She returned to work a few days after Woody did…her arms in bandages, her right leg in a cast, maneuvering on crutches. . He had waited…that's when he thought it would be the best time to approach her – when she was back at work So armed with the ruse reports he supposedly needed clarification on, he had come to her office.

"Me?" her startled answer made him pause as he remembered that Jordan had no idea that he had heard hers and Tracey's conversation and her subsequent confession.

"Yeah, you…there's no one else in the room," he replied, amusement in his eyes and a soft smile on his face.

More confused and startled looks from Jordan. Woody had hardly been civil to her over the past months. Cold and distant were the two adjectives she would have used to best describe him. And now here he was standing in her office, acting like they were…well…friends again.

Then panic hit her. She couldn't tell him the truth. She couldn't tell him what she did…or how she got hurt. If her old El Camino hadn't been sitting in her usual parking space, she would have told him she had been in a car accident. The long sleeves of her shirt hid the bandages over the burns on her arms. Her leg injury was the only visible thing wrong with her. "I fell…" she answered, "down the steps at my apartment. Carrying some laundry." She hoped her answer didn't sound as lame to him as it did to her. She never had been a good liar.

"Oh. Then that's quite break you've got there…how long will you be in the cast?"

"It's not too bad. With any luck, I'll be out of this and in a soft brace in about six weeks."

"So…meanwhile, you're morgue-bound and chained to paperwork?" His soft smile kicked up into a grin. Jordan felt her good knee give a little. What the hell was wrong with him and why was he acting this way?

Eyeing him over warily, she cautiously replied, "Yeah. No field calls for me for a while…so you don't have to worry about working with me. How's your head?" she asked, quickly changing the subject. "I heard about the explosion and the fire…and Cal getting you out of the house. Quite a hero."

"I'm fine. Just a concussion…lost a few days. Haven't done that since I was in college and drank just a little too much. As for Cal," Woody sighed. "He showed up at my apartment the day the house blew up and said he wanted to make restitution to you and me for his actions with the Albanian Mob. He followed me to Lee Street…and then the next thing I knew, he was getting me out of the house before it came down on me."

"Pretty impressive…Maybe Cal's changed?"

Woody shrugged. "Who knows? Time will tell. He's going to be in the hospital a few more days and then head back to Wisconsin."

Jordan hesitated for a moment. Everything in her wanted to ask the next question, but a little voice in her head told her to be very, very careful. Woody was acting laid back at the moment…and they still had to work through the reports he had tucked under his arm. Did she risk stirring his anger?

She did.

"Then…are you two…talking at least?"

"A little. I still don't trust him, Jordan. And trust is a precious thing, as you well know. However, there is one thing that is bugging me about that crime scene…"

Jordan gave him another confused look. "What?"

"I don't remember anything about it. I don't remember Cal pulling me out…I don't remember anything. And the firemen or EMTs don't remember seeing him pull me out. I'm just going on some rumor someone started…I don't know for sure who really pulled me out." His voice was even, with no tinge of bitterness or anger.

Jordan let out a breath she had unconsciously been holding. "You don't say?" she questioned. "Well…the memory may come back to you with time…"


Woody's fear that Jordan's good-bye in the hospital would morph into a real good-bye never actualized. After a few weeks, he realized, she wasn't telling her city good-bye. She was telling him. This time, while Jordan didn't push Woody out of her life, she did re-erect those walls she had been so famous for in the past—re-enforced and supported by all the cautiousness she now felt about him. And she didn't make subtlety an issue.

She avoided working with him, which now was a no-brainer with her being in a cast. She couldn't answer his calls, only assist in processing trace, the autopsy reports, and other assorted forms he needed. And she was quick to have these curried over to his office rather than have him stop by hers. She was even avoiding the awkward small talk that had never been their forte. When they did have to meet face-to-face, she kept it strictly professional, despite Woody's new found warmth and seeming compassion towards her.

The simple fact of the matter was that Jordan was avoiding being hurt again. While she knew her heart…that it was no longer her own and totally belonged to Woody, she also feared what that could do to her. Jordan didn't think she could handle seeing him move on and date other women…perhaps even some people she knew. Her heart would break all over again, and right now, just getting the damn fracture in her leg to heal was taking long enough. If a leg took six to eight weeks to heal, she wasn't sure her heart would ever recover…it hadn't from the first time he broke it. If he did it a second time, she wasn't sure a full recovery would ever be in her future.

And her plan was working well. At least as long as she had the cast on. For six weeks, while her leg healed, her heart adjusted to the fact that her feelings for her Farm Boy, however strong they were, would probably go ignored and unreturned. Unrequited love. It hurt. It made her understand just a little of how Woody probably felt all those times she had pushed him away.

But the moment her cast came off, her carefully structured plan crumpled into a heap at her feet. Garret called her into his office and from his tone of voice, he was all business. When she entered, she saw Woody sitting on the couch, his face expressionless. Suddenly Jordan knew…just knew with every instinct in her … she wasn't going to like what was going to happen.

"Sit down, Jordan," Garret said, his tone serious, but his eyes questioning hers. "I need to talk to you about an assignment." She nervously sat down on Garret's couch….on the opposite end from Woody.

"You know Woody has been investigating the house on Lee Street…the one that had the gas leak and blew up?"

Jordan nodded. It had been one of the biggest cases to cross the department in a while. An innocent family murdered and then their house blown to bits. It didn't make sense…it didn't add up.

"Well, it seems that this wasn't the first time such a homicide has happened…"

Jordan raised her eyebrows and her mouth fell open. "When….and where…"

"Maryland, Delaware…Virginia…North Carolina…." Woody answered.

Jordan swallowed hard. "Then it's the work of a serial killer….?"

"Probably. That's everyone's best guess…" Woody replied, watching her carefully. "The issue here is that this time…with the North Carolina murder, the killer screwed up. He targeted a vacation resort on the North Carolina shore line. And the house man and woman he killed this time were none other than Jason and Cheryl Baker." He handed Jordan a file.

Apprehensively, she flipped the file open. "Jason and Cheryl Baker….from…Boston?"

Woody nodded. "The sheriff from the Outer Banks of North Carolina called me this morning after the Bakers were identified. He would like for us to come down and assist in the investigation…"

"Us?"

Woody ignored her obvious question. "Yeah…"

"But the crime happened in North Carolina…"

"And we would like for it to stay there because North Carolina has the death penalty. And whoever did it…the son-of-a-bitch needs to feel the heat of the needle. However, North Carolina would like to give us some leeway in the investigation to cover their asses if the case goes south. That we could at least try the perp in Boston and put him away for life without parole if something goes wrong with their case."

Jordan nodded. She understood the reasoning behind the decision. But that brought her back to her original question. "Us?" she asked again.

Garret nodded. "Us. You and Woody. Rene' has personally asked that you and Woody represent the Boston PD and the morgue on this one."

Jordan silently cursed Rene' under her breath. With that being the case…with the DA specifically requesting her, she had no choice…

She had to go home and pack her bags to go to North Carolina.

With Woody.

Alone.