A/N: NadezhdaSt - Ooh internet clubs - fancy! I don't think we have those here...lets hope my internet doesn't stuff up anytime soon...god I don't think I could function without a computer! Sad, huh? LOL yeah the gathering's a tad more civilised, against your prediction but that could change, they haven't even been served yet...I'm sure I would rustle up some screaming matches - and preferences as to between who? lol. Glad you joined up to that site - what do you think?

Lioness-Rampant, Tricksters Queen of War and Orlando-crazy - many thanks for reading and of course reviewing! Hail reviews! hehe.

Chapter 16: Breakfast, anyone?

"Maybe he was being serious," Woody said weakly, watching Jordan's reaction as she rifled through the box. The colour had drained from her face and on it was a stony expression that told the detective that if Koreldy wasn't dead, he sure as hell would be now.

"I can't believe it," she said, then looked at him. "Well, I can."

In the box were a number of articles, that all had one thing in common. They were both about her or her father, and in one case, her brother. "This is everything," she said weakly. "I can't think of one thing that has happened that deserves to be in a paper that isn't here."

There was a few articles about the Digger cases, even from before the serial killer succeeded in burying her alive, which she could not fathom. It was almost as if he knew she would be targeted, or at the very least had kept the papers in case. She shook her head – she had not been able to figure him out before, she wouldn't be able to now.

There were articles from every damn dangerous case she had ever been involved in, some she didn't even remember! Her blood ran cold when she stared at one that was about some case she cracked in LA. This whack job had been following her, really following her.

"This one's about you," she said, surprised, handing Woody an article. "Well not just you, but something you were in."

It was the article on the case of the Purgatory killer that he and Elaine had worked on a couple of years ago.

"Why…?" he started. Jordan shrugged, and continued to look through the box. If possible she was even more horrified when she saw a lock of hair tied with a blue ribbon, knowing instantly that it was hers.

"God," she uttered, for the second time, and showed it to Woody who instantly grew angry then contemptuous as he realised the psycho was already dead therefore impossible to kill.

"Bastard," he said.

"What I wanna know," she said in a hoarse voice. "Is, if he got close enough to me to do this," she gestured to the hair. "Why didn't he kill me?"

"I think his obsession changed," he said. "He started off with your father, then moved to you. Look at the dates on these articles."

Jordan suddenly realised they were both sitting on the floor as he tipped out the contents of the box and looked at the articles and pictures.

"Early on," he continued, then pointed to a few articles. "Max, Max, Max, Max, you, Max, Max, Max, you, you, Max, Max, Max, you, you, you and Max…"

"Dad and I?"

"The Tom Malden thing, before it was resolved." He continued. "James, you, you, you, Max, you, you, you…and the rest you."

"Great," she said. "I have to say this is the first time someone has had an obsessive…" she started to say something sarcastic but Woody cut over her.

"This could damn him and save you," he said.

"You think?" she said scathingly. "Lets go."

"No!" he said quickly, and she looked at him. "Oh come on, Jordan! Can't you imagine what Mathers would say? He'd swear we set the whole thing up!"

"So what do we do?"

"I don't know," he said, standing. She followed suit, after having replaced all the articles and the lock of hair in the box.

"We have to do something about this, test the guns, something!"

"I know!" he said, face creased in concentration. "Ok. We leave here, now. We go back home, we ring the BPD, Mathers maybe, suggest he look here…"

She was shaking her head. "No way. So many questions!"

"Fine. We get a damn story straight then."

"Its not plausible. What, suddenly we decide to come look here?"

"I don't know! What do you suggest?"

"That the cops are morons."

Woody gave her a look. "I am going to let that comment slide…"

"Why didn't they look to start with? Did you put the receipt back?"

He shook his head and went and did it, while she put all the stuff she had out back, including the guns.

"Now it's as if we weren't here," she said, stepping back. "We just go, maybe to the morgue, call Renee and…"

"And what, Jordan? Aren't you hearing me?" He was suddenly angry. They had found so much, so damn much, and they couldn't do a thing about it.

She remained silent, knowing full well this was entirely her fault. All of it. Maybe if she'd remained behind the line, so to speak, her whole life instead of getting up everyone's nose every chance she had, maybe she wouldn't be charged with murder, maybe her father wouldn't even be dead. She had brought this down upon herself.

Woody watched her carefully, trying to read the thoughts that were obviously racing through her mind, but not able to. She was guarding herself well. He had seen her break down, in this same backyard, when she thought he had gone, thought she had sufficiently put her point across. He had left, she had bowed her head and he knew she had, at that moment, felt the full force of everything that had happened. Then Garret had come, and joined him at the door, watching her, watching him.

"What happened?" he had asked. Woody looked at him.

"You tell me," he said in a hard voice. Garret had sighed, shrugged, and then gone out to sit with her. She had spoken to him, about what he had not heard. When he put his arm around her, Woody was glad, glad that she could relate to someone, that she had at least one person to rely on. And regretful that it could not be him.

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After he ran, for a third time (that cop was getting downright annoying,) James made a decision. He had never exactly been a thinking man, and wasn't going to start now. So he acted on impulse, and hid in his sister's car. He crouched down in the back seat, feet going numb and tingly, and waited. He had almost dozed off when he heard voices. He sat up, shifting around in the backseat and watched the two approach, both empty handed. He sighed – he had really wished they had found something, that the cop, as irritating as he was, had a bag of tricks that he could just dip into and solve the whole mess.

"It doesn't work that way."

The top of his head and his eyes were visible in the window of the car, and he resisted the impulse to duck down again as Jordan caught his eyes. The two had been talking but now she broke off, and he could see the effort that it took her to drag her eyes away from him and divert the detective's attention. He noticed she did so with contact, a hand placed on his arm obviously wiped away any suspicion that may have been forming in his policeman-at-heart mind, and smiled. She was obviously manipulating him, was obviously very accomplished at it. And she probably did it unconsciously, because she was without a doubt the most genuine person he had ever met.

"What are you doing?" she hissed when she had steered the cop to his own car and jumped into hers.

"I don't know," he said over the engine that had burst into life. "What are you doing?"

"Point taken," she conceded, and he strapped himself in the back, watching the car in front take off. "So when we get to Boston…what's your plan? I mean obviously you can't stay with me…" she trailed off and watched him through the rear view mirror.

"You didn't find anything," he said after a while of driving in silence.

She hesitated. "Yes." She proceeded to tell him.

"And you left it there?" he asked, incredulous, and a little disturbed that Koreldy had been telling the truth.

"We had to," she said in a strangled voice, tone belying her words.

"What's your plan, then?" he said, bringing yet another point home.

"Woody reckons we just play it cool."

"Woody being…"

"The detective." She gestured to the car in front. He nodded.

"He thinks we should just suggest blithely that we should go check the house out. Hopefully we didn't leave any traces of ourselves…" she stopped abruptly. "Listen to me," she said, harshly, making James frown. She was staring ahead, not really watching the road. "Talking like a criminal. Like I have something to hide! Dammit!"

James watched carefully. "I shouldn't have shot him," she said.

"You did all you could," he said stiffly, comforting and reassuring not exactly his strong point. She nodded.

"I know. Its just so…"

"Pointless. I know."

"I was going to say helpless, but pointless works. Something-less, in any case." She shrugged and allowed a smile to come forward. He grinned in response and they drove home.

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As the sun made its presence known, two cars trundled almost lethargically into the city of Boston, merging into the other early hour traffic, like they had done it every day of their lives. Jordan shook her brother awake reluctantly, doubting that he had had much chance to sleep prior to and in between their increasingly frequent meetings. He was awake immediately, undid his seatbelt and crouched down.

"I'll park somewhere discreet," she murmured, and followed the car in front of her as it turned down her street. She parked, bid her brother goodbye, and walked up to her apartment, Woody following her. She stopped in her tracks, listening intently as she heard a female voice.

"They're not here, and they're not answering their cells."

Woody frowned, watching the recognition on her face.

"Renee," she muttered, looking at him. He closed his eyes and walked past her, jumping the stairs two at a time, until they reached her floor. When the door to apartment 311 came into view, they knew Jordan had been right. The DA was standing at the door, gaping at them, phone forgotten by her ear. She hung up abruptly.

"Where have you two been?" she asked accusingly. Woody opened his mouth and shut it again, and Jordan almost rolled her eyes, he needed to learn how to lie!

"Just out to breakfast," she said, shrugging. "What brings you here at…" she looked at her watch. "5:30am?"

"Probably not the same thing that has you two up and about at this hour," she said, eyes drifting over the two of them, taking in their dishevelled appearances, including the bags under their eyes and the wrinkles in their clothes. She wasn't buying their 'breakfast' story, but her suspicion of what they had been up to was far from the truth – it didn't even pertain to the case. It had the desired affect, and even though Jordan reddened when she realised what the DA thought they had been doing, she didn't correct the assumption as it served them well, or well enough under the circumstances. Woody had no idea what she was talking about, or the almost bashful demeanour that had come over his friend. He shook his head – it really was of no consequence.

"I was actually going to ask if you wanted to have breakfast, but I think that we should make it lunch. I'll round up the gang." She smiled dryly to herself, and rattled off the name of a café. The pair were only too happy to accept the offer, wanting to get inside and figure out what the hell they were going to do. She nodded and walked off.

"Breakfast my arse," Jordan muttered, fumbling with her keys. "She was here to check on us."

"What did she think we would do?" he asked scathingly. She turned and looked at him.

"What happened last night."

He grinned wryly, not able to help himself. She narrowed her eyes.

"You were not a cop."

"Huh?"

"Don't feel obliged to do 'the right thing'. You were there as a civilian, not a detective."

"You can't separate the two, Jordan. I'm not going to rat you out."

"Good, because I did nothing wrong."

"I know."

She looked at him for a little longer, making him shift uncomfortably, before turning and letting them both in.

"You bed, me couch," she said.

"No, no, you have the bed."

"It's the least I can do," she said, and he knew that was the closest to an apology that he would get out of her. He nodded.

"Rightio." He started to walk off, before turning back. "Hang on. Should I handcuff you to the table or something? You're not going to run off on me again?"

She gave him a withering look. "Of course not," she said, and he shook his head and walked into her room, pretty sure that she probably would, but too exhausted to care.

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They woke up at approximately 11am, to the sound of the alarm Jordan had set. It took her a while to orientate herself, sleep sure felt damn good to someone as deprived of it as her. She had probably not had more than 12 hours sleep collectively since her father was…murdered. She forced herself to say it in her mind, which opened the floodgate and a thousand memories poured into her mind.

"Oh God," she whispered, putting a hand to her head.

"What?" the voice made her jump. She looked up and Woody stood there watching her.

"I just remembered I have to make the funeral arrangements."

Fine job, she commended herself, proud of how steady her voice could be when she tried, even though it was threatening to break. Woody saw right through it, but didn't say anything. She would deal with it her own way, and if she needed him she would say. He hoped.

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Once Jordan, Woody, Garret, Harding and Renee were seated around a much-too-small table, they looked at each other, none really knowing what they were there to discuss.

"I suppose this is in continuation of last night's conversation?" She directed the query at the DA who shrugged.

"I had the feeling we were intruding on something last night."

Jordan shifted uncomfortably in her seat, knowing to what Renee was referring and not particularly relishing that she believed that.

"I haven't the foggiest what you're talking about," she lied, and looked at Garret.

"I think we should have Koreldy's house searched."

Woody's discreet intake of breath caused her to grit her teeth and she only just refrained from shooting him a dark look.

"Good idea," Woody cut in, catching Harding's eye. The ME was sitting back in her chair, watching them all, but particularly Woody and Jordan, very carefully. "I'll call the NYPD."

"Wait," Renee said , looking at them. "What do you think we will find at Koreldy's place?"
Jordan pulled a helpless look together, which Garret saw as transparent. "I don't know," she said, shrugging. "Something that could point to him, something that puts him in Boston."

"Such as?"

"I don't know! But it's worth a look, isn't it?"

"Yes," Renee conceded, and looked at Woody. "Call them."

"Thanks for the go ahead," he muttered under his breath, dialling the number.