DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made.
It's all for fun.

AN: Thanks for the feedback for the first chapter of this. I'd love to hear more opinions!

Part Two: Pink Footie Suits

For the umpteenth time Jordan blinked away tears. God, she hated cases that involved kids. Kids of any age, but babies had to be the absolute worst. She glanced over at Nigel, who was peering at the baby's mouth. He'd been as silent and remote as she herself was. No one could remain unaffected by that tiny form. Jordan thought Nigel's murmured declaration, infused with anger and indignation, would sound in her ears for a long time. "The poor little thing is so cold."

"Jordan?"

Sniffing, Jordan came out of her reverie. "Got something, Nige?"

"Something on the baby's mouth, I think."

Jordan leaned over and followed Nigel's gaze. She narrowed her eyes. Craning her neck to look up at Nigel, she said, "Tape?"

He nodded. "I think so."

Jordan felt her gorge rise and she steeled herself to deal with it. "So where'd the tape go?"

Nigel's look was dark. "I'd say someone wanted us to think this was natural."

"SIDS?"

The Brit shrugged. "Hard to prove it is and hard to prove it isn't."

Jordan shook her head. "Then why put her in the dumpster?"

"Maybe something went wrong."

"Track down Woody, Nige. Tell him to look for that tape."

XXXXX

Jordan was still in her scrubs, but she sat at her desk, chewing the end of a pen, trying to work on the report Woody would need. Every time she tried to make notes though all she could see was that tiny body in its pink footie suit. Was that worst of it? Would some small part of the horror have been lessened if the baby had been dressed with less care? Or just wrapped in an old blanket? Or even naked? Was it the sight of the innocent pink, the feel of the delicate plush, the lingering scent of the material used to give the footies their traction? Sure, this little girl - Evvy - seemed to have a lot of cards stacked against her, but damn it, that pink footie suit... it spoke volumes. It said "Hope."

Jordan heard the crack of the end of the pen between her teeth. She jumped as if shot.

"Come on, Cavanaugh. Pull yourself together," she muttered.

Another fruitless five minutes passed. When Jordan heard the knock on her door, she breathed a guilty sigh of relief. "Yeah."

The door opened and Woody appeared. "Uh, Jordan. Hi." His blue eyes clouded over. He wished for something else to say, but was there anything to say right now?

"Woody." Her face showed the strain of the day. "I - um - I'm working on the report for you. Sorry it's not done. It's been-"

"That's okay. Karen - Karen's here. I thought - I thought Lily maybe... you know." He shrugged.

"Her alibi checked out?"

Woody nodded. "The night manager at the landromat knew her. She said Karen came in last night and somewhere between the spin cycle and rinse, fell asleep. The lady who runs the place knows the kid's been under a lot of strain. She covered Karen up with a blanket and even moved her laundry for her. She thought she was doing the girl a favor."

"She was." Jordan's head drooped. "No one could have known."

"D'you get anything off the tape I sent over?"

Another nod from the M.E. Jordan began to speak, but another knock stopped her. Lily didn't wait for Jordan's terse acknowledgement. She simply poked her head in the door. "Jordan, Woody, sorry to interrupt, but Karen is asking if she could talk to you. Jordan, I mean. I think she's more comfortable with you, than me. It's understandable."

Jordan's eyes asked Woody for mute permission. He nodded. "I'll talk to Nigel."

"Yeah, good," Jordan agreed.

"I'll get Karen," Lily said. "Would you - um - like some tea or something?"

"Thanks, Lily. That would be - yeah." Woody began to duck out the door. "Woody?"

He turned around.

"Any word on the boyfriend?"

He shook his head. "Not yet."

Let me know, okay? Whenever."

"Sure, Jordan. Yeah." His lips thinned as he contemplated Mike O'Neal, a boy he already loathed.

Jordan got up from her desk and scrubbed her hands through her hair. She was staring out the window when Lily brought in the bereft mother. Jordan turned and gave her a look she hoped was compassionate, but felt only infinitely sad. "Would you like to sit down?"

Karen nodded and sank to the couch. Wordlessly, Lily brought in some tea and left it on Jordan's desk.
Jordan offered Karen some who declined and then changed her mind. Jordan poured two cups and asked if Karen minded sharing the couch.

The girl shook her head. She sipped the tea Jordan handed her. "I hope the other woman - Lily? - I hope she isn't mad. She seems nice and all, but - I don't know. I just - I'd rather talk to you."

Jordan nodded. "Lily understands," she assured her companion. "Was there anything specific you wanted to talk about?"

Karen took several deep breaths. Then she studied the still amber surface of her tea. At last she looked up, tears leaking from her red, swollen eyes. "I need to know about - about how... how it happened."

Jordan's face crumpled briefly. "Oh, Karen. I don't know-"

"I need to know, Dr. Cavanaugh. I need to know if she suffered, if she knew what was happening"
She wrung her hands. "I'm so afraid."

"Afraid?"

Karen nodded. "Afraid that - you know, at the end - that she was scared, that she thought - thought Mommy -
thought I didn't - thought..." She sobbed into her hands.

Jordan gathered her into her arms. She stroked the girl's hair. "No, no, Karen. I don't think she thought that.
Not at all."

Speaking between great, gasping sobs, Karen continued, "I was always so careful with her. There was never much, you know, but - but - I loved her so much. She was - She was happy. I think she was." She shook her head. "I know she was. Do you really think - I mean - she didn't know... what was happening?"

"No, Karen. She didn't - She didn't suffer." Jordan bit her lip. She shouldn't promise the girl that, but in her grief-stricken state she didn't need to know her baby's lungs had likely screamed out for oxygen, that her brain would have registered alarm before going into shutdown, that the small vessels in her eyes and lungs had ruptured. No, the girl didn't need to know that. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Anyone who dressed her little girl in a pink footie suit deserved what little comfort could be found - or made up.

Karen's sobs began to subside. She sat up. Jordan got her the box of tissues. "Thank you," the girl murmured. She stood and went to look out the window. When she spoke, Jordan wasn't sure the girl knew she wasn't alone. Her words seemed directed to the window. "I always wanted a bunch of kids. I did. I'm the middle of seven kids. Good Catholics." She snorted. "But I did. I wanted a big family, Dr. Cavanaugh. I wanted a house in the suburbs and a minivan and -oh, it sounds dumb - but I wanted lots of cookie sheets." She turned and gave Jordan a rueful, bitter smile. "I promised myself I'd bake cookies every day."

"That's - Karen-"

"I know, it's dumb."

"No! No, it's not. It's - It's the kind of life any kid would want, I think."

Karen shrugged. "Thanks. I thought, for a while anyway, that maybe it would happen with Mike and me"
She swallowed. "We used to have so much fun together." Another rueful look and then she turned to the glass again. "I guess that was obvious, huh? But I don't mean just that. We were really good friends.
We'd known each other since junior high. And then - I don't know - we kind of looked at each other one day and we were in love. Or we thought we were. You ever felt that way, Dr. Cavanaugh."

"Uh-huh," Jordan replied. Softening, she added, "I think everyone has."

Another shrug from Karen. "We'd both - well, my folks might be good Catholics, but I can't say I was. Mike wasn't exactly my first. I wasn't his either. But I never felt like that with the other boys I did it with. It was - just something to do, I guess. Mike was different. He really cared. Or he pretended really well." Regret and bitterness mingled with her grief. "We'd only done it a few times when I got pregnant with Evvy." The girl went silent for a moment. Jordan's heart broke when Karen looked down at her belly and placed a protective hand over it. "God, I was so scared when I knew she was in there. I've never been so scared of anything ever in my life. But at the same time, Dr. Cavanaugh, at the same time, this little part of me was - was so happy. This tiny part of me didn't care if my folks were going to yell or what Mike said, what anyone said really. I was just - happy. I loved her. From the minute I knew, I loved her."

"Of course you did," Jordan said solemnly.

"Oh I know what people say about girls my age having babies. We just want something to love us without strings, we want to play house, all that. Maybe that was part of it, but I don't think so. I loved her because she was mine. And Mike's. I mean, maybe he pretended, but I didn't. I loved him. And I thought no matter how hard it got, we'd still have that. And we'd have our baby."

"Detective Hoyt will find him, Karen."

She nodded. "I know he will. And - And he should. I guess."

"Don't you want justice for your daughter?"

Karen turned to gaze at Jordan. "Will it bring her back? Will it make her laugh and smile and clap her hands again? Will I get to give her baths and read her stories and put her in her pajamas again?"

Jordan looked away, her eyes hot with tears. She shook her head.

"Mike's not a bad person. He isn't. And he'll live with this for the rest of his life. Don't get me wrong, I don't want anything more to do with him and I want him to - to answer for what he did, but nothing's going to change it. Nothing's gonna make Evvy alive."

"No, you're right."

Karen sighed. "Maybe this is wrong, maybe you'll think I'm horrible, but I wanted to ask you something. It's why I couldn't talk to that other woman."

"What is it?"

Karen took a deep breath. "Am I a terrible mother? I love her, Dr. Cavanaugh. I always will. But in the last few hours, I've been thinking. I wasn't a dummy in school. I thought maybe I'd take some classes, try to get a decent job, you know, answering phones or stuff like that. I want to get married - give myself a few years - but get married and have more babies. I won't ever quit missing my Evvy, but I already feel kind of like it was yesterday. And I don't want to forget, I don't want to stop aching for her, but I want to have brothers and sisters for her. I want there to be people who will always know about her. And I want to make the kind of life I used to promise her I would." Karen's voice dropped to a whisper. "Am I a terrible mother?"

Jordan's tears flowed down her face now. "No, Karen. No, you're not." Jordan crossed the room and took the girl in her arms again.

"My mom always said my problem is I love too much. I always used to make friends with the kids everyone else picked on. If I found a hurt animal, I'd bring it home and make it well. Or if it died, I'd cry my eyes out and bury it in the backyard. My mom said it would bring me nothing but pain. Maybe I loved Evvy too much!" Karen raised her head and looked at Jordan. "Do you think it's possible? Do you think someone can love too much?"

The air rushed from Jordan's lungs and for a moment she could only move her mouth like a fish. At last she found her breath again. "No. Not at all." She wiped away her own tears and dried Karen's with a fresh tissue. "I think it's worse not to love enough. To be too afraid to love."

To be to afraid to give away those parts of yourself that died when you held them in too tightly. To be too afraid to jump in and go where life's currents took you. To be too afraid to think about what it might all mean.

To be too afraid to imagine little babies in pink footie suits.

END Part Two

TBC...