Okay…this plot bunny has been bouncing around in my head for three months and I'm just now writing it. But as I got into this I sort of got to thinking…. "You know…this sounds kind of like the X-files…I can picture the same thing happening to Mulder and Scully…" So yeah…maybe there's some cosmic connection in love stories that take waaayyyyy to long to consummate.

And by the way, I don't own the X-files, either.

And I've never been to Coldstream, Kentucky. Got my research off the internet. So if you're from that city, and I've got it dead wrong, you need to tell your city officials to update their web page.

Chapter Four

Coldstream, Kentucky

The bodies kept popping up along the Eastern seaboard. In the span of two months, Boston had claimed five of them as her own. Jordan did the autopsies and trace. Dutifully, she reported the results to Woody, who in return, treated her with professional coolness and personal distain.

As Jordan got ready to take the fifth victim's reports over to him, she wearily wondered just how long his current attitude could last between them before she let him have it with both barrels of her verbal guns. Some days she itched to tell him off and put him firmly in his place.

But most of the time that feeling was overridden when she had to look into his eyes again. God help her if he was permanently moved back to homicide. She'd be a babbling idiot inside three months.

She pushed open the doors to the Nineteenth Precinct and took the elevator up to narcotics. Peering into his new office, she saw he wasn't there. A quick look around found him in the conference room, going over the facts on a white board. Jordan was surprised to see Lieutenant Murphy and Garret there.

"Ah…Jordan," Woody said. "I was just about to call you…"

"I've got the results on the fifth victim. Same MO. Heroin laced with Strychnine," she sighed tiredly as she handed him the results. "Lieutenant…Garret," she greeted the other men in the room.

Garret gave her a smile and motioned for her to come and sit by him. "Woody's got an interesting theory…one you may want to hear…since you'll be involved in the follow up."

"I will?"

"You're the ME that has done trace and autopsied all the victims," Garret explained.

Oh joy, Jordan thought. Just add this day to the list of really shitty ones I've had since Woody walked back into the morgue. Keeping the expression on her face neutral, she listened as Woody explained his theory of where the tainted drugs came from…using the whiteboard and a map as his tools.

"All the victims were drug users….heroin being the drug of choice. But the drug didn't kill them…none of the victims in Boston or anywhere else died of a lethal drug overdose. Too much heroin, yes, but not enough to kill them. They died of Strychnine poisoning. The drug was finely cut with the poison…and the poison was administered in lethal doses.

"Other than being hooked on heroin, our victims have little in common….they cover all economic and educational backgrounds…they range in age from sixteen to the late forties….the only thing they have in common is the tainted heroin.

"Fortunately, heroin production is much like any other trade….Just like fine china or quality leather goods, each manufacturer leaves their own 'trademark' or fingerprint. We know that all of the drug in question was produced by the same person or people. Each of the victims bought heroin that originated from the same source. It gets real fuzzy when you begin to break the crime down into the local dealers that each victim purchased the drug from, but what has become obvious during our investigation and investigations in other states, is that the heroin came from one centralized location." Woody paused for a moment before he continued.

"And where may that be?" asked Lieutenant Murphy.

"Coldstream, Kentucky."

There was silence in the room as that tidbit of information was digested. It was Garret who finally broke the quiet. "Coldstream, Kentucky? Where the hell is that?"

"It's a very small town outside of Louisville…according to the 2000 census, its total population was 956…"

Jordan let out a low whistle. "Welcome to Mayberry…."

Woody nodded. "If you think about it, it's an ideal location…close enough to a big city…the sixteenth largest city in the United States…to get the needed supplies, but yet in a small enough town that no one is going to ask too many questions because everyone knows everyone else…They may ask questions among themselves, but small towns have a way of shutting strangers out. Believe me, I know…" Woody continued, remembering his small hometown of Kewuanne, Wisconsin. "There's a sophisticated roadway system…access to a major airport…yet backwoods enough that …things…activities could be hidden and not questioned," he finished.

"You're sure?" questioned his lieutenant.

"I'd bet my badge on it, sir."

Blowing out a sigh, Murphy continued. "So what do you need, Hoyt?"

"I need permission to work with the Louisville, Kentucky police department or the sheriff's department, whichever one deals in tangent with Coldstream. I'll need to go out there and imbed myself…sniff around. If I can find out who's manufacturing the poisoned heroin, then the case will tie itself up in a neat, little knot. I'll also need to cooperation of the morgue that handles the cases in that area."

"Anything else?"

Woody took a deep breath. This was going to be the hard part. "I need Jordan."

"Do what?" Jordan asked in a voice of sheer incredulousness. "Me? Why?"

"You're the ME that has done trace and autopsied all the victims here in Boston," Garret patiently explained again. "Woody is going to need your help in verifying that the heroin, if any is found, is the same kind that killed our victims."

"So I can have her?" Woody asked, patently ignoring Jordan's protests that she didn't want to go to Kentucky and really didn't need to…Woody could fax her or e-mail her the information from the Kentucky morgue and she could do the comparisons in the safety and convenience of her Boston one.

"Yeah…but I can only spare her for a couple of weeks, Detective," Garret warned, "Any additional time is out of the question."

"Garret," Jordan protested. "The Furgeson case is coming up…"

"And I'll get Renee' to take your deposition before you leave. Bug assisted you on that one. He can testify if need be."

"But Garret," Jordan continued to protest, pulling him over to the side of the room. "I've never said 'no' to anything you've asked me to do, but this is above and beyond the call of my duty….I'm not going to Kentucky with that…that….jackass," she finished, indicating Woody, who was now smiling at her like a cat with a canary.

"It's only for two weeks out of your life, Jordan. Just two. You can do this. You'll have separate hotel rooms. Hell, stay in separate hotels for all I care. Just do your job."

"But…"

"No buts. Be the voice for the victims like you always have, Jo. Just remember, you're doing this for them and their families. They deserve justice."

"And Woody deserves a…."

"Jordan," Garret cut her off sharply. "Just….just do your job. You're only going to solve a case….simply to solve a case…okay?"

Reluctantly, Jordan nodded. She'd do her job. She'd do it well. She's help solve the case…but that was all she'd do.

And then she was taking one hell of a long vacation.

The flight to Louisville, Kentucky was a calm affair. The weather was wonderful. The drinks were cold. And the complimentary peanuts weren't stale.

If Jordan would have had better company sitting next to her, she actually could have enjoyed herself. Instead, Woody immersed himself in the case file and didn't speak to her for the entire three hour flight.

It could be worse, she had told herself before she decided to settle down for a nap. He could be yelling at me again…But the only reason I'm here is to help solve the case…and just to solve the case. He only needs me to help him solve the case… He only needs me to help him solve the case… she kept repeating to herself. That was the last thought that went through her mind before she dozed off. Next thing she knew, Woody was gently shaking her awake, telling her to buckle her seatbelt, they were getting ready to land.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice soft and steady.

"Yeah…just sort of forgot where I was…" she pulled herself upright, praying that she didn't do anything embarrassing…like drool….or attempt to cuddle up to Woody because his aftershave kept tickling her nose and her memory.

After disembarking the plane, Woody got a rental car and they began the short drive from Louisville into Coldstream. "So you think the Louisville morgue will have everything you need?" he asked in an attempt to make polite conversation with the woman who could either make or break his case…secure his former position in homicide or send him back to the junkies and dealers in narcotics.

"From what I can tell, they will. I spent a couple of hours yesterday on the phone with the chief ME there, going over their equipment. I did need a few gadgets of my own. Nigel is shipping them there for me."

Woody grunted. "I did find out that Coldstream does have its own sheriff…."

"And let me guess, a deputy that carries the bullet for his gun around in his front shirt pocket?"

Chuckling, Woody nodded. "Something like that. The deputy is part time except during high school football season…when they need him at the games for 'crowd control'."

"Crowd control in a city of 956 people…wow."

"So…anyway, I talked to the Louisville sheriff...Allan Roberts…and quizzed him about Coldstream's sheriff…a guy named John Sanders. Roberts said that Sanders is a pretty straight up guy and should be more helpful than harmful in our investigation. Although for the life of him, Sanders couldn't believe anyone was manufacturing heroin in Coldstream. The city seems pure Americana…."

"There's always a dark side, Woody."

"You've told me that for years…"

"And I'm serious. There's a dark side to everything, every place, and everybody. You know it as well as I do."

He let her double entendre go over his head and relaxed for a moment. Things were going better than he expected with Jordan…He had anticipated fighting with her the whole flight and the entire drive. That was why he had buried himself in the case file he already knew word for word…and had been relieved when she dozed off to sleep. Whatever Garret had told her must have had an impact. She was doing her job and doing it well. Being a total professional.

Not giving him an inch of her personal space or mind.

He kept telling himself that was a good thing…. The best thing for both of them, yet inside he was only just beginning to realize how much he had missed her…missed their banter.

Yes, missed the friendship they used to have. The very thing that had driven them apart. Their friendship. The idle thought flickered through his mind that maybe love should be based on friendship first and then the passion and fire he so desired might surface later.

He immediately pushed the thought from his mind. Whatever they had was over. He was moving on…and she had, too. Clearing his throat and his mind, he commented, "Pretty country…"

"Yeah, in a rural sort of way. It doesn't remind me much of Mayberry, though…More like the movie 'Deliverance'."

"The one with Burt Reynolds and the guys on a canoe trip?"

"That would be the one…"

Woody laughed as he pulled into the Coldstream Sheriff's Department parking lot. "Well, I'll tell you one thing, Jordan.."

"What's that?"

"If any big backwoodsman tells me they're going to make me squeal like a pig, I'm outta here."