Bring Me Home
Chapter 4
It happened two weeks later when she was exiting the Boston airport. The FBI had caught a man they thought was Digger and it was now safe for Jordan to come home
She'd felt sad to leave her new friends, but she needed to be back with her family-and Woody. Drew, Nedina-only 'cause they'd insisted-and another agent were assigned to escort her back home on the plane and then to the bureau to officially identify Digger-and then she could go home.
She was walking out of the airport building, an agent on one side and two on the other, when gunshots suddenly rang through the air. Nedina fell to the ground with a scream as a bullet tore through her leg and Drew let out a grunt as he was hit in his shooting arm, falling to one knee while the other agent fell with a thud and a bullet between the eyes. Before Jordan could do more than blink, there was a gun in her face.
Jordan let out a choked kind-of sob as she gazed at the steel muzzle. Swallowing thickly, she raised her eyes from the muzzle of the gun to stare into the face that haunted her dreams-Digger.
"Come with me, Cavanaugh, or your friends here gets it," the man sneered, aiming a gun at Drew's head a t point-blank range with his other hand.
"I'm coming," Jordan answered faintly, following obediently as Digger led her from the building, the gun still aimed in her face.
Once they were outside, Digger shoved her into the back of the van, slamming the door shut before going around to the driver's side, pocketing his guns. As soon as he turned the corner of the van, Jordan threw herself at the door, yanking hard at the handle. But it wouldn't open.
Jordan whimpered in fear, crawling onto the seat farthest from the driver's seat as Digger got into the car, throwing her an insane grin. Once again, she was at this man's mercy.
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"Jordan!" Woody yelled, snapping straight up in bed.
In one, sudden, onslaught, all the memories of his life were returned to Woody's mind. He yelled out in pain, clutching his now throbbing head and breathing heavily.
"Woody? What's wrong?" Cal demanded, falling through the door, voice thick with sleep as he gazed around wildly.
"Cal?" he groaned, "Aspirin. Now."
"On it!" Cal promised, stumbling back out of the room quickly, rubbing wearily at his eyes.
About two minutes later he returned with a small glass of water and two aspirin for the older man. Woody accepted the offerings gratefully, popping both pills simultaneously and quickly. Then he pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his head against his legs while he tried to push away the pain. Cal sat at the end of the bed, waiting silently for his brother to speak and tell him what was going on.
About 3 minutes later, Woody lifted his head to rest his chin on his knees, saying softly, "I remember, Cal, I remember everything."
"Really?" Cal demanded, eyes lighting up as he exclaimed, "That's great Woods!"
Woody nodded, but he didn't look like he was very happy about anything. Cal picked up on this immediately.
"What's wrong, Woody?" he asked with a concerned frown as he watched his brother closely.
Woody sighed, running a hand roughly through his hair before raising his eyes to his brother's and saying solemnly, "Jordan's in trouble."
"What? Woody, no, she's fine," Cal protested with a shake of his head, "She's in protective custody, Woods."
"No," Woody shook his head, flinging the covers off of his legs, "She's in trouble. I always know-I can just feel it."
"Woody-!" Cal began with exasperation as his brother's feet touched the ground, only to be interrupted by the ringing of Woody's cell phone.
Woody through his brother a knowing look before flipping open his phone, saying, "Hoyt."
"Woody? It's Macy," the Doc's voice was strained and upset, "We've got a problem."
"It has to do with Jordan, doesn't it?"
"Jordan-but-what?"
"I've had me memory back for about 10 minutes, Dr. M," he paused, "Alright, lay it on me, Doc."
"Jordan's been kidnapped."
"Kidnapped? What the hell do you mean 'Jordan's been kidnapped'? I thought she was in protective custody with the FBI?"
"Digger attacked them in the terminal. One agent is dead, and the other tow are wounded-one seriously so," he sighed, "We were so sure we had the right guy."
"Digger? Who the fuck is Digger?" Woody snapped, "Garrett, what the hell is going on?"
"It's a long story, Woody. And it starts almost 4 years ago, before you came to Boston. It was a big case…"
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Jordan stared blankly at the ceiling, the tear tracks dried on her face. Her face was pretty bruised up, as was the rest of her body. And her clothes were ripped.
Digger had forced a blindfold and gag onto Jordan five minutes into the drive. He'd switched cars an hour later and then forced her into a building another hour after that. He had then made her go into the basement of the building.
He'd taken off the blindfold and gag, the gun still trained on her. And then he'd promptly beat the crap out of her and raped her.
Jordan whimpered again, pulling herself painfully to her feet. Digger had left about half an hour ago, and she was no longer going to sit there and wallow in her self-pity. Instead, she was examining the basement.
It was unfinished, with an old-fashioned furnace, the pipes visible through the beams of the ceiling. There was no furniture in the room, and no windows, the stairs the old-fashioned kind with the holes between steps. The only thing other than Jordan in the room was a pile of rags, pieces of wood and pipe. There was no light.
Jordan moved her aching body to under the stairs, examining the pile. Examining the pile, she shifted quietly through it, pulling out a short, thin rod. Gripping it in her hands, she moved herself to the wall, sliding down it and pulling her knees up to her chest, the weapon still gripped in her hands.
When he came back, she'd be ready for him.
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"Okay, what have we got?" Woody demanded as he and Cal entered the conference room of the Morgue, Woody using his newest best friend-a thick, brown cane.
Sitting around the table were Garrett, Nigel, Bug, Lily, Sydney, Eddie Winslow and Santana. There were also two others Woody didn't recognize, both with FBI jackets.
"Woody!" Lily yelled in surprise, "Shouldn't you still be in bed?"
"Lily, I've been in bed for the past two months," Woody reminded her gently, adding, "Besides, some rat bastard has my Jordan. And he can't keep her-I need to bring her back and beg for her forgiveness."
"You're Woody?" asked one of the FBI agent-the younger one with his shoulder in a sling.
"Woody Hoyt," he nodded, eyeing the other man with a mixture of suspicion and uncertainty, "And you are?"
"Agent Drew Haley," Drew answered, saying softly, "You're not going to have to beg a whole lot, you know. Jordan loves you very much."
"Yea? And how do you know?" Woody asked, his suspicion winning.
"I'm one of the agents who was living with Jordan," he paused, running the hand of his good arm over his face as he added softly, "I'm so sorry that he got her-I'm so sorry that I didn't save her."
"Why didn't you?" Cal demanded aggressively, pissed off to hell that something had happened to Jordan, "Don't you carry a damn gun?"
"Yes," Drew nodded, "But we let out guard down-and we shouldn't have, but we all got caught up in Jordan's excitement to be coming home."
"Why didn't you shoot the bastard?" Woody demanded, sinking into a seat beside Nigel, Cal dropping into the seat beside him and scowling darkly at the FBI agents.
"I would have if the gun had just been in my face," Drew answered, "But it wasn't just in my face-he had another one in Jordan's face and I couldn't risk getting her hurt."
"Why didn't you shoot him as he was walking away? Or follow him?" Cal demanded, "What kind of FBI agent are you?"
"Agent Haley is one of our best agents," the other agent interjected smoothly, introducing himself with an outstretched hand and, "Chief Victor Monroe."
"Whatever," Woody shook his head, "I don't really give a crap who wither of you are, what you do or whose fault it was. All I care about is Jordan and getting her out of this sadist's hands.
"So," he demanded, eyes alight with a determined fire, "Who is he? What does he do for living? I want everything on this guy-and I want it now."
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Jordan tensed as she heard the floorboards overhead creak, standing as quickly as her battered body would let her. And then she sagged visibly with relief as she heard him walk to what was presumably the front door and leave. The sounds of squealing tires moments later confirmed this suspicion.
Jordan stood still a few moments more before racing up the stairs. Reaching the door, she tried the knob and shrugged when it didn't move. Instead, she pulled a beat-up wallet out of her pocket-it had been in the pile of stuff under the stairs.
The wallet was filled, presumably, with alias for Digger-'presumably' because there was 3 different driver's licenses with his pictures but different names. There were also about a half a dozen credit cards tucked into the holders. And Jordan only needed one.
Taking out a nastily coloured orange one, she slipped it between the doorjamb. After almost a minute of jiggling, she heard the satisfying slick as the door unlocked. Jordan grinned.
Jordan quietly pushed the door open, then paused, There could be others in the building. She took the horrendous orange credit card and slipped it under the clasp at the back of her bra before replacing the wallet in her pocket. And then, gripping the length of pipe, she stepped onto the first floor. Slowly, she crept forward. She was in an abandoned house that could have once been suburbia-worthy but was now rundown and derelict.
There was no one on the first floor, and, judging by the lack of noise, no one upstairs wither. With a surge of relief, Jordan rushed out of the building to find-nothing.
There were no cars, no streets. No people. Just a large forest and piles of wood and concrete that must have once been houses. Jordan let out a cry of despair, only to be interrupted by a beeping noise.
Jordan whirled, pipe in mid-swing before she realized that there was no one there. Cautiously, she crept towards where the intermittent beeping noise was coming from-some overgrown bushes at the side of the door.
Jordan parted the bushes, peering curiously in and giving a crow of delight as she found the source of the beeping. It was from an older model and the beeping noise came from a low battery, but the screen read, "Signal Located."
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"Okay, so the agent's body won't be able to help us any-she was never in any contact with Dirt Boy." Woody said, tapping his fingers absentmindedly on the manila folder on the table in front of him before his phone rang. Flipping it open, he impatiently snapped, "Hoyt!"
"Wo-dy? Woody? 's that y-ou?" Jordan's voice crackled over the line, "O'! T-ank G-d!"
"Jordan? Jordan, hunny, where the hell are you?" Woody demanded, sitting straight up in his chair and grabbing a pen and pulling the folder closer, "Tell me where you are Jo, and we'll come get you."
"I d-n't kn-w where I am. –Bandoned buil-ings. Rural. Middle of f-rest. R-ally run down. Unfinished basement….furnace…" there was a pause, the only noise the static across the line before Jordan said softly, "Y-u have to s-ve me W-ody. Please!"
"Yea, I'll save you Jo. I promise," Woody answered, tears gathering in his eyes.
"I l-ve you Woo-y, I l-ve y-u." and then the line was dead.
"Can you get a trace on where that call came form?" Woody demanded of Nigel, already holding out the phone to the lanky Brit.
"I will," Nigel said determinedly, taking the phone and racing from the room.
"Jordan said she was in an abandoned rural building with an unfinished basement and a furnace-so it's older. And in a forest." Woody relayed to the group.
"Bug snatched up the file, saying, "Ill see what the computer can find."
"And I'll call some of my buddies from the street," Cal said, standing and leaving the room with his cell phone already pressed to his ear, "See what I can find out about the little S.O.B"
Which left the others with nothing to do but wait.
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Srry for the wait. G2g watch CJ!
Luvz
Red.