Chapter Two

Don't Mess This Up

Jordan stood for a minute with her back leaning against the door of the women's locker room, trying to slow down her rapidly beating heart and her quick breathing. As far as she had known, Woody was still undercover in narcotics. She was shocked to see him show up at the morgue.

She was even more upset at herself…that her knees went weak, her heart pounded, and her mouth went dry when she saw him again. In the back of her mind, when she received Emmy's phone call about someone who was insisting that she come into the morgue, she had partially assumed it was Danny. It would be like Danny McCoy to raise a fuss when he couldn't find her and she wouldn't answer her cell phone. The signals she had been sending him were pretty strong ones. She had hoped he had got tired of waiting on her and initiated the first step in their relationship himself. The idea of spending an evening…or several evenings…wrapped in his strong arms was more than appealing…it was down right seductive.

Instead, leaning against her door, she had found that her past was back to bite her in the ass. Woody.

She stripped off her dress and hung it in her locker and grabbed a fresh pair of scrubs. With a little luck and good timing, she'd be retrieving the dress and returning the club within the hour. It wasn't until Jordan began to put on her shirt that she realized she had no bra. The dress didn't need one. Gamely she looked at herself in the mirror. By the time she put the smock on over the scrub top, maybe she'd be okay. She pushed her way out the door, arms crossed in front of her, just in case.

"Took you long enough," his voice from inside trace responded to the creak of her opening the door.

Quickly she reached for a smock and put it on. "It took me a while to get out of the dress," she began to explain, until it hit her that she really didn't have to offer Woody an excuse for anything. She was there on her own time. She could tell him to go to hell.

And maybe she should.

Pulling her face shield down, she began a cursory examination of the body. The foaming at the mouth strongly indicated to her that this was a drug overdose….but the collapsed larynx indicated something more. Running a tube down the throat, she flipped on the computer screen. "Care to tell me what I might be looking for?" she asked

"Just tell me what you find…" was all Woody replied as he sat and watched her, stone-faced, not giving an inch.

Okay, you cocky son-of-a-bitch, Jordan thought as she began to run preliminary tox screens. If you want to play that game, I can, too. And you have no idea who you're dealing with now…"

"It's an obvious drug overdose, Woody…." She began.

"No, it's not," he interrupted, his voice still coldly professional and aloof.

"I know that. It's an overdose, but not a lethal one," she continued. "Do you want to do the autopsy? I'll be glad to let you. I've got something else I'd much rather be doing tonight."

"I'm sure you do," he responded. "However, if the records are accurate, you also did an autopsy similar to this last week…drug overdose, but the larynx was collapsed. What did you find?"

Jordan sighed and looked at the initial tox reports coming out of the computer. "The same thing I found here. Heroin cut with poison…probably Strychnine."

Woody nodded. Lowering his voice for emphasis, he looked Jordan in the eyes. "Have you done any other similar autopsies in the last six months?"

She shook her head. "No. Believe me, I would remember something like this…"

"What's the differences between this overdose and the autopsy of the overdose victim you did last week?"

"A lot actually," said Nigel's voice coming through the doors. When Jordan didn't return to the club in a few minutes, he decided to call Emmy and see what was up at the morgue. When Emmy had told him in a worried voice that Woody was there and requesting Jordan, Nigel had decided to high-tail it in and give her hand…at either getting done quickly with whatever Woody was bringing in, or kicking him out of the morgue. He had assumed the detective was there to make trouble for Jordan one more time…to hurt her again in some way…He had no idea Woody would be bringing in another body with another set of riddles.

"Like what?" Woody now turned his attention to Nigel, glad to have someone to talk to other than Jordan.

"The guy brought in last week appeared to be ill-kept and homeless. As unfortunate as it is, it's not unusual to find that homeless people with a heroin addiction will dilute their fixes with something to make the drugs last longer…"

"But how often do they cut it with Strychnine?" Woody asked, his voice still hanging on to that air of arrogance and know-it-all attitude.

"They generally cut it with whatever they can get their hands on, mate. They're not known for reading warning labels."

"So you put that death down to a John Doe who had an accidental drug overdose?" Woody asked.

Nigel nodded. "But this one is different."

"How?" asked Woody.

"This victim is obviously not homeless," Jordan replied this time, keeping her eyes level with Woody's, striving to catch and keep his attention. "If anything, it's apparent that he's upper middle class, at least. Look at his clothing…expensive, new, brand label stuff. Look at his shoes. This guy obviously had enough money to buy good heroin and not have to worry about cutting it with anything to make it last longer."

"But he still died of the same thing as your John Doe did last week…:" Woody continued, speaking only to Nigel now that the criminalist had joined Jordan in trace. "Can you tell me what really killed him? The poison or the drug overdose?"

Nigel shook his head. "That will take a bit of time…and an autopsy by Dr. Cavanaugh."

"How soon can you get it done and get the reports to me?" Woody questioned, swinging around to finally look at Jordan again.

"I can start tonight," she began and immediately regretted her words. This was too much like old times…her dropping everything else in her life to be at his beck and call on a case.

"Good," Woody replied smoothly, not letting her take back her words. "It's important…"

Prepping the body for further trace work, she watched as Woody began to pace the small room, stretching her all ready frayed nerves to their breaking point. "So why's it so important?" she asked, scraping underneath the victim's nails while at the same time keeping a wary eye on him.

"I've been working undercover with narcotics, Jordan."

"I know," she replied, hoping to get him to cut to the chase and get out of her morgue and away from her mending heart.

"We've been watching heroin shipments that were generated from somewhere in the south to Midwest and were shipped to the Eastern seaboard…with Boston being one of the many destinations. This is bad stuff, Jordan. It's been cut with Strychnine…and may have killed more people than we're aware of…." he went on to explain.

"How long has this been going on?" she quietly responded, noting that he was pacing faster now and running his fingers through his hair…Woody's tell-tale sign that he was upset, frustrated…

And angry. Again.

"At least three months that we know of, Jordan. That we know of," he said again for emphasis. "I mean it's bad enough that it's drugs….but to cut it with a poison that no one stands a chance against… That's just…"

"Murder," she calmly answered.

Woody nodded and turned to face her. "That's right. You know how I feel about drugs…"

Jordan nodded. That fact was well known.

"But deliberate, pre-meditated murder puts it in whole other category."

Jordan bit back a smile. At least Woody still had his passion for his job…even if he had turned into a cold-heated SOB in her book. And a policeman with passion was a good thing. Those types of cops solved more cases and did more good than any other kind.

"When the Captain moved me to narcotics, I didn't think I'd ever catch a case like this again…" he continued.

"But you did."

"Yes, I did. And this case could be the one that puts me back on homicide…" His voice had lost the passionate tone it had and sunk tohis frigid tones again. "So Jordan, do me a favor."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Don't fuck this up."