A/N: I had a nasty little computer virus that required me to restore my hard-drive...Thank goodness I had a hard copy of the next few chapters, but it still takes time to type them - and I don't always have a lot of time! Sorry for the delay, barring no more computer misfortune I should be ahead of myself as far as updating this story. Hope you enjoy it, and please keep reviewing! I appreciate the comments and suggestions!
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PART VII - Disappear
Jordan leafed through the mail absentmindedly as she unlocked the door to her apartment. She kicked off her shoes and wandered toward the kitchen. Not only was she finally hungry, having not eaten at all through the day - she was exhausted to boot. A good thing, she thought. Being busy was a good thing. It kept her thoughts from herself, from her own lonely, pathetic….She groaned. I'm doing it again, she thought. She pulled the last beer from her bare refrigerator, feeling like Old Mother Hubbard...But she didn't even have a dog.
The blinking red light on her answering machine made her change direction. A message from Garret. Woody was doing okay, maybe she should visit. Jordan sighed. If Garret only knew. She felt an angry tear start to trail down her cheek. It didn't have to be this way, so complicated. But it was. She wanted to talk to Woody, but Garret's message had made her think twice about it. If he was doing well, she reasoned, maybe seeing her would be more of a setback. He needed that second surgery if he was to ever have the use of his legs again. She knew that Woody would not want to lose the life he'd had. He had so much vibrant energy, was so damn good at his job…Surely he'd recover, right?
Maybe, for once, she would try prayer…He was the only reason she would even consider it…She'd felt so isolated from the Catholic church since grammar school when she'd overheard several of the priests discussing her father's situation. They'd made her feel like a burden, a charity. She'd hated that. It wasn't that she hadn't tried to fit in, to be the polite, soft-spoken little Irish-Catholic girl that they expected…But despite her valiant efforts, she'd come to realize that it just wasn't in her nature to be demure and soft-spoken. Whether or not that had to do with her mother's death was anyone's guess. But it had made her an outsider early on. If it hadn't been for the few people she'd considered her real, true friends, Jordan would not have survived the institution. And then her friend, Cindy, had gotten pregnant…And Jordan had managed, after much pleading, to convince Cindy to talk to Sister Barbara with disastrous consequences - Sister Barbara ratted her out, she'd run away and her unborn child had died…All that had done was make Jordan distrustful of the help she could expect from the priests and the nuns. And then, to fall in love finally - to trust that she was normal in some way - and then have Paul decide that he wanted to become, of all things, a priest! -- like one of the old, stodgy men she'd heard criticize her and her father and whisper their disapproval…Well, it was not hard to see why her attendance at mass was far from perfect. But since Woody'd been shot, her thoughts - if not yet her lips - had turned to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, God would listen to her prayers...
She waited when the message was done, hoping that Haley had returned one of her many calls, but there was nothing. She decided that she did need to see Woody…Maybe she could just try again. It wasn't as if he'd been totally coherent that day he'd thrown her out. She would just tidy herself up and go. She walked toward the bathroom, throwing aside the case file from her big FBI investigation of the previous afternoon carelessly as if it didn't matter - and since Haley hadn't bothered to call her, she reasoned, maybe it didn't.
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Garret was sitting across from Lily, trying to gauge her response. He had finally broken down and told her about the whole cover-up...How it had not been his idea, but more or less an order from a still-unnamed higher-up…No need to bring anyone else into the situation, he thought, nursing a scotch. Somehow, though, he was sure Lily's sense of justice - or injustice, depending on one's perspective of things - would surface and she would want him to at least give some effort toward getting his job back.
The staff hated Slocum. He knew they would. Jack was one hell of a task-master…And no one else would be so "by the book" as he would be either…Even Grace Yukora had a few soft spots in that shell of armor she'd donned every day to perform her job. And he had to admit that, although he missed his friends and his responsibilities - hell, even the satisfaction of solving a case - he did not miss the politics. Not at all. He didn't play very well to the various agents and agencies that were always there to remind him how to do his job, how they were "all on the same team", how he had to keep his staff under control...It had been statements like that that had pushed Garret out of his own office to begin with. If anything, the Moreau case had, early in his career, given him a strong desire to seek the truth above all things in every other case that had been handed to him over the years, and he'd done more than a stellar job of insuring that his staff at the morgue followed that protocol before anything else - even if it had pissed off a DA or a governor or two.
He looked at Lily again. She was still silent, toying with her glass. "I don't know what to say," he finally blurted to try to erase the uncomfortable silence between them.
"It's…it's okay, Garret. I - I understand," she lied. If the cover-up was not his fault, then why had he just given up so easily? Why wouldn't he fight for his job?
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Jordan ran a brush through her hair and exited the screaming silence of her apartment. Even before she pulled into the hospital's parking garage, she had already gotten cold feet. She hoped that Woody was either too sleepy or too drugged to notice her presence. That way, she could easily just peek in -- to assure herself that he was going to be okay. And to see him again. Well, maybe there would be other visitors…Surely he wouldn't dismiss her in front of their friends and acquaintances? She just had to see him for herself, to make sure he was alright.
She'd tried Garret's cell several times to get a little fatherly advice, but she had not gotten an answer. If she hadn't known him better, she would have thought he'd left Massachusetts altogether. But that was more her usual style, she thought with a tearful smile, and had it not been that she'd finally come to terms with her feelings for Woody, she probably would have bolted….It would be so easy to run, she thought. Just like before. No more Slocum, no more pressure, no more silence. She still didn't understand what had happened between her and her father, and she wasn't about to try to figure out what had happened between her and Garret. Her mind was so full, so fragile, she almost couldn't even bring herself to believe that she should stay, but she wanted Woody to know - to really know - that she had meant what she had said. And leaving would just reinforce that she had not, at least in his mind. So she brushed the idea of bolting far away and tried to bring her thoughts back to the present and what she would say to him next if she had the chance.
The vehicle wound through the parking garage and finally she found an empty slot. She parked carefully near an elevator door and turned the engine off, then waited, the demons of her mind whispering and tormenting her with a thousand ugly thoughts -- rejection the strongest of any of them. And so, after about twenty minutes of indecision, instead of exiting the vehicle she flipped her cell open and maneuvered to get a signal, then dialed, hoping that he would pick up.
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Cal stood outside Jordan's apartment, wondering whether it would do any good to knock. He liked Jordan, truly he did. She was exactly what his brother needed. But it really bothered him, if he thought about it, that Jordan had Woody's affection more than his own flesh and blood….That had never happened before. Not with aunts, uncles, buddies from school, prom dates…not even with the girl Woody'd wanted to marry in Kewaunee. Woody's affection had always been his, first and foremost. He had always been the big brother, taking care of his little brother. But when he had put Jordan's life in danger, Woody had turned on him completely. And now Cal wasn't sure how to handle it.
He remembered what Woody had said the last time he'd seen his brother, about coming for Jordan and not - for once - for him. It had sliced through him like a knife, a deep-seated rejection that stunned him and surprised him. And so he'd gone without a word. Actually, for the first time in his life, Cal had tried desparately to clean up his act. Really, really tried. He'd been successful for first a few days, then the days had turned into weeks and now he had several months behind him…Months of living the "right" way…And Woody would have been so proud of him. And maybe Jordan could help him show Woody how really changed he was.
But now Woody was in a hospital bed. Cal found himself wondering what to do. For once, it wasn't him in trouble. It was Woody. The big brother. The protector. The dependable one. Shot. Maybe not able to walk ever again. God, he'd need a lot of help to get him through it all, whether or not he recovered the use of his legs. And Cal was afraid for his brother for almost the first time in his life…He realized that Woody was not superhuman after all….He was alive and vulnerable and not some super-hero with super powers that could never die. Maybe, Cal thought, he wasn't ready to see his brother just yet. He turned and fled down the stairs, leaving no clue that he'd ever been around.
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When Jordan returned home, she was more than agitated. Woody had obviously instructed the nurses to block her calls. And she had been too tired and too emotionally drained to attempt to go inside. Not to mention, her cell phone had been silent all night. No Haley, no Cal, no Garret…She couldn't reach anyone she needed to talk to! No messages on the machine either, she noted grimly, staring at the red light that was not, for once, blinking madly. She swept her arm angrily across the counter, scattering the file she'd been working on. Several papers tumbled to the floor, the handwriting not her own familiar scribble. Damn, Jordan thought, she must've taken Agent Haley's file by mistake. The realization made her confused. He had to know he had the wrong file...and yet he still hadn't called. She bent to pick up the scattered papers and stopped cold. Something…familiar...unwelcome…had fallen out of the file. Where did this come from? she thought frantically, a chill running down her spine.
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It was 4:00 a.m. and Jordan's bed and closet were ripped apart, her clothes packed haphazardly in a large suitcase. She stood in the doorway of the room, staring at it. It would be so easy to run, she thought. Just like before. I can pick up and just leave. That one piece of paper…She just couldn't get it out of her mind. She'd wanted to rip it apart, shred it in an attempt to believe that it had never been real. Haley had been keeping tabs on her, she knew that much from their dinner. But what she had not known was that he had also been keeping tabs on her father...and her brother...And the revelation of what that paper held, the secrets that she had been unable to discover, made her finally snap.
Her eyes were drawn and heavy. She hadn't slept at all. Her mind kept racing through moments of her past, from the day she had walked in to find her mother dead, her father in handcuffs, and finally back to the hospital, when Woody had ordered her out of his life. It hurt. It hurt more than her father's absence from her life, more than Garret's unexpected suppression of key evidence in a case. Why did it hurt so much? She wondered if it was because she'd finally done it - let her guard down, become vulnerable…a sign of weakness she'd been running from all her life. She needed him. Especially now. And this time he would not be there. Why? Her mind played back their relationship over and over. She had finally wanted to make it right, but nothing was right anymore. Was it her lot in life, to always be alone? She didn't know. She just knew she hadn't hurt this badly for years. And now there was absolutely no chance she could make things right - not with anyone…That piece of paper - it had ruined all her hopes and dreams. A deep, dark sense of fear and panic rose up within her again, and she tried to still herself, to take a deep breath and forget what a mess she was in.
As she leaned against the door jamb she found herself thinking back again to the day her mother had died. The thoughts came, unbidden, but rapid and real. She was a little girl again, racing into the house to see blood…that shade of red - there had never been anything like it again except in her dreams. But now it swirled all around her and she slumped down onto the floor, the exhaustion finally overtaking her, her suitcase still open on the bed.
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Woody's eyes fluttered open in a panic. He'd had a dream…a very bad dream. Cal had been in it, and Jordan and Max. And his shooter…that young boy who had possibly changed his life forever. He tried to take deep breaths and relax so that the surgery would stay on track for now. Everything depended on it. He wasn't about to try to resolve things with Jordan if he couldn't be there to take care of her. He knew that if he lost the use of his legs, he'd feel like less than a man, and he'd always feel that he was cheating her out of a normal relationship. But that wasn't all…His dreams had given him a strong sense of foreboding…like Jordan was in trouble. Which was nothing new, he tried to remind himself. But the ill feeling that crept through him was stronger than ever and he couldn't easily dismiss the fact that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. And this time he was unable to help. He needed his legs. He punched the tray beside his bed in anger and frustration, knocking it over with a crash and scattering a pitcher full of ice water and two of his most recent notepads where he'd been trying to jot down what he could remember about his most pressing cases for Detective Framus and Detective Seeley to go over. Helpless. He hated it.
The nurse came rushing in. "Everything okay in here?" He nodded, but she looked at him skeptically. "You need anything? You know I'll have to send housekeeping to get this mess cleaned up," she scolded and left the room in a huff.
But Woody was thinking about his dream and about Lily's revelation from the previous day and Garret's confirmation of Jordan's feelings. They had made him feel so helpless. He had been stupid - God, so stupid! He'd told her to go, practically threw her out of his room. Jordan, who had such a hard time opening up - let alone admitting and confiding her love - to anyone, and he'd just been too blind and angry and proud to realize that she'd been telling him the truth. He hoped and prayed that he could fix things once and for all this time around, but maybe now it would be too late. He couldn't shake the dream. Maybe he should call Nigel and ask him to check on her, he thought, stretching out for the phone and swearing at the pain.
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Jordan woke up on the floor, her head swimming. She saw her ransacked room and shook her head. It couldn't be true, she thought. But it was…and even Drew knew. The realization of it all dawned on her. She knew that she needed to work on her many issues, and she truly wanted to sort things out and get - right - with everyone. But things had taken a definite turn. And she knew she would need to leave Boston after all. For a moment, she felt the stabbing pangs of regret. Woody. He would never understand. But she hastily scribbled a note for him - her eyes tearing as she wrote her wishes for his recovery and then, finally, her goodbyes - then grabbed her keys, the locket her mother had given her, her rosaries from Max and her suitcase and prayed she could get out of Charlestown - and Boston - before anyone knew she was missing. Everything - everyone she loved - depended on it.
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After about an hour of dictation, sorting through messages and signing requisitions, Slocum rose from his desk. It was another twenty minutes before the staff meeting, but he was restless. He looked at the top two phone messages on his desk. "Uh, Dr….Ah, Dr. Slocum?" came a timid voice. It was Emmy, the receptionist. "Um…Dr. Cavanaugh left a message. She's taking a sick day today." Emmy swallowed and waited. "Um…"
"Hmm?" Slocum was reading the phone messages, weighing them in each hand. Should he call the governor first? Call Gray Duval for a comment? Or should he just pretend Garret Macy had never given him anything that would force him to drag the former ME's name through the mud? He wondered - not for the first time - why Bob had sent him. Well, he'd reviewed dozens of the files Ms. Lebowski had toppled on his desk, and so far there really hadn't been any inconsistencies in Doctor Macy's work…It seemed he had only been unprofessional when it came to the staff. Which brought him straight to the matter at hand…the absence of Doctor Cavanaugh for yet another staff meeting. The others would start to mimic her insubordination. He was not ready to deal with this, he thought, looking at the clock. "Well, does she have any sick days unused?" he asked, clearly agitated.
"Uh, you have the file, sir…It would be right on the inside left of the file. On top. Next to salary there's a spot for number of vacation days, sick days, personal days…You can see how many are unused. I imagine it's quite a lot…Dr. Cavanaugh rarely gets sick. And she almost never takes vacation," Emmy said, a hint of pride in her voice.
"Fine, thanks," Slocum said, dismissing her. But she lingered in the doorway, hesitating.
"Uh, sir? There are two gentlemen to see you in the conference room. They don't look so happy."
Great. Notifications? Press? Someone from the Governor's Office? He wasn't ready to deal with all that just yet, but he nodded to Emmy. He needed to be steel in front of the employees, letting nothing ruffle him. "Just show them into my office, okay?"
Emmy looked at him, wondering if she should voice concern. "Um, they're kind of…Well, are you sure?"
He nodded at her. Kind of what? These people were all so suspicious. It made his head swim when he thought about everything neatly tucked away in their personnel files, files that he had reviewed meticulously. Emmy was still standing in the doorway. "Please, show the gentlemen in. That's not a pleasantry, it's an order," he called as she finally, and quite reluctantly, left the room to retrieve the men. He rubbed at his temples. Another long day, and it was only just beginning. And now Doctor Cavanaugh would be gone for how many days? He would have to check over that personnel file. There was no way he would let her take more than she was entitled to - for vacation or sick or personal days. He needed her at the office. If she was unwilling to be a productive employee, well...She could find a job elsewhere. At least that'd be how he would threaten her. He smiled at the thought, thinking to bend the situation so he was still in control, and stacked the messages neatly next to the phone while he waited for Emmy and the two gentelemen to arrive.
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'Dr. Mahesh Vijayaraghavensatyanaryanamurthy' the desk plate read. Jack Slocum looked at it. No wonder the nickname, he thought. "Um, Doctor Mahesh…Bug?" he began.
Bug glanced over his shoulder, a magnifying glass in one hand and a leaf in another. He gently set the leaf down in a glass aquarium-type tank, slowly and deliberately, before he turned around. "Yes?" He was slightly amused that Slocum hadn't been able to pronounce his name…Lily, Nigel - hell, even Doctor Macy - had learned it. It was downright unprofessional of Slocum.
"I wondered if you and Dr. Cavanaugh had finished up the autopsies from late afternoon the day before yesterday? The bodies found outside the bar, near Fenway Park? I have a few men in my office who are rather anxious for the results…I wondered if you had any idea what I should tell them about the case? When can the bodies be released to the FBI? I assume we had jurisdiction."
"What do you mean?" Bug's surprise was evident. Agent Haley was capable of relaying information to his fellow agents. Besides, Jordan had been with him and the FBI would have had all the results already.
"Did I speak too fast for you, Doctor?" Slocum mocked, and Bug glowered at the almost racial slur. "I said, there are two agents in my office waiting for the results of the two autopsies you did the other day, in the afternoon. The day before yesterday. The undercover agents?" Jack's patience was wearing thin. He hated the FBI, and he hated the fact that there were now two agents in his office looking for results that should have already been provided to them, and he absolutely hated the fact that he knew nothing about the case and looked stupid in front of them.
"I…" Bug swallowed, no comment forthcoming. He looked surprised.
"You did do the autopsies? You did respond to the call with Dr. Cavanaugh?" Slocum's voice was low, almost a growl. He felt his head throbbing and his throat start to go dry.
Bug was dumbfounded. "Actually, er…No."
Slocum saw the confusion play over Bug's face and felt panic start to rise in his own chest. "No, you didn't respond…Or no, you didn't do the autopsies?" He thought he'd assigned them both. Maybe he'd overlooked it while going over the personnel files? That would be a costly mistake. He had to gain control, and he did what came naturally..."Are you that incompetent! I spoke with you directly about them...Did you think that just because I'm not Dr. Garret Macy that you could completely disregard me! Don't you value your job at all! This office will be run in a professional manner…If Dr. Macy had bothered to run it properly…"
But Bug interrupted his tirade. "I did respond. Jor…Doctor Cavanaugh and I both responded. We were there first, and then the Feds…"
"You mean the FBI agents? Let's show some respect for them, shall we?" Jack interrupted. He was beginning to worry that Doctor Cavanaugh had not done her job and that her absence today was the product of a cover up. Insubordination. Maybe she was trying to torment him, goad him into resigning. Well, he'd have a warning typed and on her desk before the afternoon was out, he thought, a deep, angry frown spreading across his face. "So, if you didn't finish the autopsies, drag them out of the crypt now and get to work -- Pull Doctor Townsend if you must…Doctor Cavanaugh is out sick today - how convenient for her!"
"Doctor Cavanaugh was down at their temporary headquarters day before yesterday - and all day yesterday - assisting Agent Drew Haley," Bug insisted, then told Slocum slowly, "They have both of the bodies. They should…"
"You must be mistaken…Doctor Cavanaugh was here all day yesterday," Slocum started. "Wait…They already have the bodies? Then why are they waiting in my office for answers!" he demanded, feeling what must have been his blood pressure rising. "And who is Agent Haley? He's not one of the agents down here...What the hell is going on!"
Bug had no answer. Oh God…What had happened to Agent Haley? And more importantly, he thought, swallowing hard, what had happened to Jordan? He swallowed again, his throat suddenly dry. It wasn't like her to take a sick day -- not even if she was actually sick. Dr. Macy'd had to practically throw her out of the morgue to get her away from her cases. What in the world was going on?