DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made.
It's all for fun.
AN1: As usual, thanks for the feedback.
AN2: This story wasn't supposed to be nearly as dark as it is. Clearly it's time to let my "murderous" impulses out. (I write mysteries - don't worry, not actually going to kill anyone). Lastly, the resolution of the baby's death is based on an actual case - guess it bugged me more over the years than I realized.
Part Four: If the Sox Never Win Again
Jordan flinched a little at his words. As much patience as Woody had with children, small animals and - at least before - herself, he had no patience with people who hurt those members of the first three categories. "Maybe just the first two now," Jordan amended in her mind.
"Did he...," Jordan took a deep breath. "Confess?"
"He tried to deny it at first. But he broke down pretty quickly when I told him about the tape evidence."
Jordan nodded. "A fingerprint on the inside of the tape is pretty damning."
Woody shook his head. "Some hot shot defense attorney will probably still see a chance to make a name for himself - or herself - by defending this - this animal. Or trying to."
"What? He snapped? I mean, from what Nigel and I found, he put packing tape over her mouth."
"And then held her nose until she quit breathing. Yeah, he told me all about it."
Jordan shifted on the sofa. "Why did he put her in the dumpster though? I mean, if he hadn't done that, we might have believed it was SIDS."
"Because Mike O'Neal isn't quite as bright as he thinks he is." Woody took what amounted to a swig of wine. "I should have said he held her nose until he thought she quit breathing."
"He - What? Oh, my God!" Jordan's eyes smarted with fresh tears. Her shoulders slumped.
"That's not even the worst of it, Jordan."
"Come on, Woody. How much worse can it be?"
Woody's eyes found the floor. He told it about the next part of Mike O'Neal's confession. "He planned it,
Jordan."
"Okay, I can-"
Woody looked up, those blue eyes alight with an anger so pure and righteous it stunned Jordan to see it in him. "No, he planned the whole thing. All of it, Jordan!"
"What do you mean, 'All of it?'"
Woody's lips thinned. "When he realized Karen was going to have that baby and when he realized everyone expected him to do the right thing, he planned this. He was furious with her for ruining his life, in his words. He had a baseball scholarship he had to give up. He would have to work crappy jobs, listen to a crying baby and a bunch of other complaints that hopefully a jury will hear because they won't endear him to twelve of his peers. So he decided to get even with Karen. I won't tell you the things he called her."
"Please don't," Jordan said softly.
"It was all her fault though. He didn't have anything to do with it. Well, he alternated between that and she trapped him. Doesn't matter. He decided he'd pretend, go along with it. Very noble of him," Woody scoffed and swigged more wine. "And he thought about it and thought about it and decided when he knew she loved that baby more than life itself, he'd take the baby away. Not kidnap her or anything. That might leave Karen with some hope. No, he was going to kill Evvy."
Jordan gasped. The tears that had pricked her eyes earlier now flowed down her face. "Oh, Woody. Oh..."
"He did a little reading up on crib death and figured it would be - to quote - 'wicked easy' to make it look like the brat just 'popped off.' He didn't count on screwing it up, which was when he panicked. But he figured he could still make out all right. He'd tell everyone he woke up in the night, went to check her, found her dead in her crib and panicked, thought he'd be blamed and so on." Woody gave Jordan a significant look. "He may have studied up a bit on crib death, but he didn't check into a certain morgue's track record of solving unusual deaths."
For a moment Jordan just stared at the wine still in her glass. Wordlessly she put it down. If alcohol was supposed to numb her, to make everything a little distant and hazy, she didn't need that tonight. She was already numb. This case was as surreal as it was cruel. Her eyes still filmed with tears, she met Woody's gaze. "What kind of human being would do that? To a baby?"
Woody shook his head. "He's not a human being, Jo. Believe me, he'll probably show up in court in a nice suit, with a good hair cut and that hot shot lawyer hoping to make a name, all saying 'Your Honor, my client wasn't responsible because blah blah blah.' But when he does, look closer. He'll look normal. Hell, what that lawyer -whoever he or she is - says may even seem to make some sense - because what sane person would do what he did? But I swear to you - I swear - there's no soul behind his eyes. There's nothing human about him. Except his DNA."
For long moments, they were silent. Jordan bit her lip. "I told you I wanted to know."
"And now you're not so sure."
She nodded. After another long silence, she said, "You could have called."
Woody swallowed. "I - uh - I thought about it."
"What changed your mind?"
He gave her a small shrug. "I went looking for you. At the morgue. Ran into Garret."
Jordan nodded, as if that was explanation enough.
But Woody had more for her. "He told me a few things. Set me straight, I guess you could say. I couldn't - That sort of - of ending to a case. I couldn't tell anyone that on the phone."
"I see." Jordan's voice was tight, her face a blank now. "So you would have done this no matter what?"
Woody breathed in and out, slowly. Slowly. Trying to control the pounding of his heart and bring his whirling thoughts into some kind of recognizable orbit.
"Woody?"
"No, Jordan. No." His gaze sought hers and when he caught her eyes, his arresting ones caught her. "There's something else."
END Part Four
TBC...