A/N: Usual disclaimer. I don't own the characters, yada-yada...I wish I did! Well, hope you're enjoying the story so far. I am trying to remember to include every little detail, so please bear with me. As always, please review!
PART IX - Give Us A Clue…
Jordan sat at a small, cramped table at the back of a dingy diner, trying to force down the rest of her breakfast, as she looked over her shoulder and out the window for the fifteenth time. She was sure she was being followed, and she didn't like it at all. Maybe she hadn't gotten away as quickly as she'd thought. Maybe, she reminded herself, she shouldn't have stopped at the hospital to leave that note for Woody…
She was positive she'd seen Cal hovering near the hospital, but she didn't think he'd seen her. She breathed a small sigh of relief, knowing that someone would be there to help Woody during his recovery. At least that was one good thing about the morning, she thought wryly. But she had thought she would be able to be there for him, and the irony of her situation made her lose what there was of her appetite. Still, she would need the energy, so she forced herself to finish the last of her omelet and threw down some change for the waitress. If only she knew where to find Max…Grabbing her coffee - thank God for to-go cups, she thought - she snatched up her suitcase and rushed out of the small diner, looking back to be sure she was alone.
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Garret tried to smile brightly at Woody. "Hey, all surgeries present some modicum of risk," he tried. "This is certainly not a slight risk, but it's necessary. And then you'll be up and walking in no time…"
Woody was more pessimistic. "If the surgery is successful, Doc. Yeah, it'll be grueling work…And even after that, I still might not ever regain one hundred percent usage," he looked down at his legs, his shoulders sagging with the weight of the situation.
"Still, being able to walk again will be better than the alternative," Garret pointed out.
"What, no use of my legs…or death?"
The young detective was not in a pleasant mood, was in a lot of pain and Garret just couldn't keep up a good bedside manner much longer. "Well, I'll check back with you... Maybe stop in before your surgery tomorrow morning…"
Woody looked at him apologetically. "Doc, really…You don't have to. I'm sure you've got other things to do…" Garret's effort was not lost on Woody. He realized his tone was more than petulant.
Garret shook his head slowly and smiled at him. "Until I can get Jordan in here, you're gonna' need a little support. I don't have anything else to do anyway," a small twinge of regret sounded from the man, but a tight smile remained pasted on his face.
Woody returned the smile. "Thanks…It's nice to know that you people really care…I mean…" he faltered.
"Hey, it's okay…And besides, you know my father wasn't really there while I was growing up, so I kind of know how painful it is to feel like you don't have family. And this has been a major ordeal for you, I'm sure."
"Well, I know it hasn't been any easier for you this last week or two…It seems like bad things always come in three's…" He stopped contemplating the potential outcome of his surgery, recalling his sleepless night.In three's...He did not want to admit to Doctor Macy that he'd been having strange dreams about Jordan being in danger. They were unshakeable.
"Superstition…You're starting to sound like Nigel. But let's hope not this time!" Garret encouraged. "Get some rest…I'll be back tomorrow." He turned to go, bumping into the nurse. "Excuse me!" he quickly moved aside.
She smiled. "No problem, Doctor Macy…" She looked over at Woody. "How're you doing today? I hear from Doctor Turner that Doctor Roberts is gonna' do the surgery tomorrow. That's great news! He's one of the best!"
Woody frowned. "I hope so," he said, his voice full of doubt.
"Well, I have a letter here that should at least cheer you up!" She smiled brightly and placed an envelope on his tray. "A beautiful young lady dropped this off before you were awake," she told him, winking. Woody saw Jordan's familiar handwriting and pushed the letter back away from him. "Hey, let me check your vitals and then I'll leave you some privacy to read it, honey."
Garret lingered near the door, wondering what it was that Jordan couldn't - or wouldn't - say in person. Writing a letter? It just wasn't like her. He waited until the nurse left the room. Woody just sat staring at the white, thick envelope. "Well?" he prompted.
Woody shook his head slowly. "I…I can't…Not until after the surgery. Not until I know…"
Garret frowned. "Don't you think that's a little childish? You know how she feels about you now…"
"No, Doctor Macy…I don't. Besides, you heard Doctor Roberts. I can't afford a setback of any kind. And that's all this will be. And if it isn't, it'll be that much sweeter to read knowing that I will have some kind of future to offer her…" His voice trailed off softly.
Garret nodded thoughtfully. He could see Woody's point...but barely. Still, he didn't want to upset the young man further. "Well...See you tomorrow, Woody," Garret said before leaving the man alone with his thoughts. He walked to the elevator, his mind full. A letter? Now what was Jordan up to? Maybe he should get in touch with Max.
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Nigel had done as thorough a search as possible in Jordan's office, but he hadn't even found her working file for the case. He met up with Lily and Sidney. "Well, that was fruitless…" he began. Just then, Slocum barged in to the lab, followed by an apologetic-looking Bug.
"Doctor Townsend, we need to get in touch with Doctor Cavanaugh immediately." He looked at Lily. "I'm assuming that Doctor Macy still hasn't checked in…" he paused and wiped his brow. "I can't wait any longer. I need to know what was going on with that case. Come on, Doctor Townsend…let's go…"
Nigel stepped back, his mouth agape. "Go?"
"Yes, yes…Let's go. We're going to pay a visit to Doctor Cavanaugh. I assume you know where she lives, being family and all…" he started. "Ms. Lebowski, hold all my calls. If Doctor Macy checks in, please convince him to meet with us this afternoon. And if Doctor Cavanaugh checks in, by all means get her in here immediately! You might want to let her know that things are a little fishy." He ushered Nigel toward the hall. "Come on, Doctor…I have a bad feeling about all this…"
They all nodded in agreement as Nigel followed Jack Slocum toward the elevator that would take them to the parking garage.
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Cal was exhausted. He had been following - someone - more than half the day. He wondered how his brother had the fortitude to do this kind of work day in and day out. Maybe Cal hadn't ever really given Woody the credit - hell, the respect - he deserved. The man in front of him rounded a corner and Cal waited for what seemed like minutes but was only a few seconds before following.
He thought about what kind of trouble Jordan could be in and wondered for the hundredth time whether or not he should call Woody…Surely Woody had a friend or two that would be better at this? But Cal was seriously afraid for Jordan and he didn't want to lose the stranger in front of him.
Jordan's El Camino was history now - torched by the man Cal was tailing…A man of obvious foreign descent, Cal noted, but he hadn't been close enough to get a good description, at least not one good enough for the police. He'd almost lost him twice already, crossing several of Boston's busiest intersections during the morning rush hour. The only saving grace had been the man's Bo-Sox hat and his plain jacket, which stood out among the business suits crossing toward coffee shops, news stands and office buildings. Whoever the man was, he seemed to be more than a little familiar with unsavory activities - like breaking into Jordan's apartment and then torching her El Camino.
Cal was none too lily white himself, and he'd hidden in the hall when his 'friend' picked his way into the apartment. In fact, he'd followed suite, taken one look at the tornado of clothes, books, papers and dishes and pivoted out of the apartment and down the stairs in pursuit of the burglar.
Jordan had crisscrossed all over the city, stopping briefly at the hospital. Now they were standing across the street from a dingy little diner, and Cal wondered if he'd get a short break any time soon. Maybe he should call the morgue…He remembered Woody telling him that those people were the best, and after seeing them work, he knew it to be true. He wondered if they could help him out…Maybe the guy had left fingerprints at Jordan's apartment? He pulled out his cell phone, poised to dial, when he saw Jordan walking out of the diner.
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"Macy," Garret picked up the squalling phone as he entered the apartment. He noted that the message light on his machine was blinking almost uncontrollably. He wondered if it was still the press trying to hound him into making a statement…Something his attorney had advised against. He couldn't speak with Renee due to conflict of interest, but he secretly hoped she would call to check on him. Their relationship appeared to have cooled off, but their last encounter had given him the hope that there was still some ember in there somewhere that he could fan back into the flaming passion they'd shared.
"Oh, Garret…thank God!" Lily's voice was full of relief.
"Hey, Lily…" he began, his feelings a mixture of disappointed that his caller was not Renee and concern at the tone of Lily's voice. "What's wrong? Slocum giving you a hard time? I told you he would."
"Garret…We need you down here immediately!"
He rubbed his eyes, still a little tired from just sitting at the hospitalwaiting for Woody to wake up so they could discuss the risks and benefits of the impending surgery. He still wondered how Jordan had been able to slip into the hospital without him knowing. "What's wrong?" he asked again.
"It's Jordan!" Lily blurted. "You've got to get down here right away! Slocum needs to talk with you… Please, Garret…Please!"
He sighed heavily, wondering what in the world Jordan had done to piss Slocum off. "Alright. I need to shower and change. Tell him I'll be down…And Lily, calm down. I'm sure everything is alright." He frowned at the thought of meeting up with Slocum and trying to explain away Jordan's barely legal methods of solving cases . How did you explain the passion and precision that went into her work? She was the best damn ME he'd ever worked with, and if she'd had higher aspirations, Garret would almost be afraid to lose his job to her…He'd even thought of grooming her to take over after his retirement, but he knew she would never cater to the powers that be. She was barely polite with him at times if she was too involved in a case.
Lily's voice stopped his musings. "It's not, Garret…You don't understand…Jordan is…"
"I'll be down. Just sit tight." Garret cut her off and set the portable phone on its charger, rushing to shower so he could find out what the hell was happening in his morgue.
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"Have you ever done this before, Doctor?" Slocum was asking Nigel as they stood at the locked door of Jordan's apartment.
Nigel swallowed, wondering whether or not it would be prudent to tell the truth. What the hell, he thought. The man knows I was in the British navy, Black Ops and all… "Yeah, I've dabbled in a little B&E once or twice in my life," he said with more confidence than he felt. Truth was, his hands were shaking. Agent Haley seemed to have disappeared, and Jordan was still not picking up her damn phone. He fiddled carefully with the lock, using several old tricks, until he heard the desired click. He pushed the door open slowly.
Slocum stepped into the apartment cautiously, in case Jordan was still there. He could imagine the repercussions if she was merely sick and resting. But he didn't need to worry, his hunch had been right. They found the whole place in disarray…Stools overturned, cushions slit open, clothes and books and papers everywhere. "Call the Boston PD…We need to find Doctor Cavanaugh…" Slocum's voice was barely above a whisper. He suddenly felt very responsible for the chestnut-haired ME…for all of them. What kind of foul play was going on? He hoped they could find Jordan before anyone else did…
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"Ah, Agent Drew Haley…I wondered how long it would take," a voice hovered above Drew as he finally stirred from his drug-induced slumber, and he could feel the hard heel of a boot crush against his temple. "Well, well…Get up! I haven't got a lot of time!" the voice was angry, impatient. Drew moaned and rolled to his side before he felt himself being forced up by several strong arms. "Put him over there…That chair." He was propped up and tied tightly, his head drooping from pain.
"Where am I?" he tried to talk, his words slurring almost unintelligibly. He heard the echo of laughter and tried to force himself to look toward the sound. As soon as he saw the figure before him, he felt the bile rise in his throat. "You?"
Another laugh sounded. "That's right…I didn't realize this would be so easy….Drew, honey!" He stared unbelievingly into the hard, cold eyes of FBI Agent Miranda Sweeney.
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The day had waned. Cal's stomach rumbled. He had to pee. He was tired. And if he had wanted to, he could have turned and crossed the street to a seedy-looking lounge for a few drinks, maybe a little gambling -- hell, maybe he could even get lucky. But he was afraid to leave Jordan out of his sight for even a moment. He owed it to her - and to Woody...He winced at the thought of his big brother on crutches, in a wheelchair -- or worse. It was about time Woody knew that Cal could be reliable. He felt a surge of the adrenaline of determination.
The stranger had tailed her all day -- no easy feat, as Jordan had switched her mode of transportation more times than Cal cared to remember -- and now he was standing across the street from a sleazy motel miles from Boston, off of Route 495. They were headed south, Cal figured, and he wondered what the hell was going on for the millionth time. He needed to find a way to contact Jordan. A quick glance around her apartment had left him with the knowledge that she'd been trying to get lost… She hadn't taken her cell phone, her credit cards, her keys -- he'd seen them lying on the counter. And the guy who was tailing her hadn't bothered to take them either.
Things were not adding up yet, and if he didn't talk to her soon, he knew he would have to call Woody. Something he just wasn't ready to do. Maybe if he could get Jordan out of this…this situation…he could use it as a peace offering between him and Woody. He finally saw the Bo-Sox hat drift toward the lounge, and once the man disappeared behind the door, Cal emerged from the shadows and raced across the parking lot toward Room 117, rapping on the door madly as it began to rain.
"Jordan!" he whispered loudly. "Jordan, it's Cal…Let me in, quick!" He looked back toward the lounge, but he couldn't see much through the rain, which in a few seconds had become hard and pelting and draped the parking lot like a sheet.
Jordan peeked cautiously through the peep-hole. "Cal?" she whispered back. "What the hell are you doing here?" She opened the door slightly, and Cal squeezed inside, bolting it for her, before they heard a loud clap of thunder, followed by some wicked forks of lightening. He stood there, dripping wet, and grinned, but then his face turned serious.
"Funny, that's the same thing I was going to ask you…Care to tell me what the hell is going on?"
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They all sat at the bar: Nigel, Garret, Lily, Bug, Sidney. They were there to figure out what had happened to Jordan. The meeting with Slocum had been less than fruitful, and the poor man actually seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Once the work day had come to an end, Lily had put the word out that she wanted everyone - except Slocum, of course…it was too soon to trust him, she reasoned - to meet at the Pogue. Although they missed Max, the place had changed only slightly since Jordan had sold it, and it was as good a place as any to try to figure out what was going on, without the watchful eye of Jack Slocum hovering over them.
Garret had called Max, to see if he knew anything about where Jordan could have gone, but the man had been evasive -- as always. Garret was more than frustrated and threatened to tell the others Max was back in town, but after much begging on the ex-cop's part, Garret had let the matter drop and promised to keep the secret for the present.
So now they were at the Pogue, sitting at a large group of tables shoved together in the back, and trying to figure out what was going on. Garret waited until everyone had a drink, then said he had a little information about Jordan. She'd left a note for Woody that morning, although he had no idea what she'd written. "Woody refused to read it…He has surgery first thing and the doctor warned him he couldn't operate if there were any more setbacks…" They all paused for a moment, lost in their thoughts for the young detective.
But the letter had them even more puzzled. Nigel had checked in with the FBI and Agent Haley was still missing. Sidney raised his eyebrows. "You don't think the two of them took off together, do you?"
Nigel shook his head. "She's not that cold-hearted," he defended.
"She's a mess, but she does love Woody. There's no way she would just up and…" Lily chimed in.
"Is this the same Jordan we're talking about?" Bug asked. "She's taken off before. Maybe not over a man, but certainly over a case…"
"Well, Nigel…where is she?" Sidney asked, starting with the person who was usually closer to the ME. He knew they were tight.
Garret nodded. "What have you found?"
Nigel looked at Sidney, then back to Garret. "I can't find -- I can't find anything. No traces of her, nothing. Her apartment was a bloody mess…There were clothes everywhere…"
"Clothes? Typical Jordan!" Garret sighed. "I was afraid of this…She's running again. She thinks Woody doesn't care about her…"
"C'mon…Everyone can see that boy has it bad!" Sidney said. "He's like a love-sick school boy or something whenever anyone even mentions her name…"
Garret took a swallow of his scotch. "Yeah, but the idiot threw her out of his room after she told him she loved him…"
"Jordan told Woody she loved him…And he threw her out!" Bug was incredulous.
Lily nodded. "Woody told us he did…"
"You see, this is what I was afraid would happen…" Garret started.
"No, Doctor Macy…You don't understand…That's all well and good, and maybe I'd believe it if it weren't for the furnishings toppled, cushions slashed. Someone was looking for something. But I couldn't find any prints except on the doorknob…" Nigel stopped, looking around at his friends.
"Well, do you know whose prints they were?" Lily prodded. Nigel nodded, and she raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. "Well!"
Nigel took a swig and banged his glass down with a flourish. "They belong to none other than Calvin Hoyt."
"Woody's brother!" Lily was incredulous. "What does that mean?"
"C'mon, man…Stop screwing with us," Sidney said. Nigel was known for really digging up stuff on a person. There was no way, he thought, that Nigel didn't know where she was. He was holding back. "Do you think Jordan ran off with Woody's own brother?"
"No, Jordan loves Woody!" Lily insisted.
"And not likely in the middle of a case," Garret stated, bringing them back to the FBI and Agent Haley. "That's not like Jordan. She'd move heaven and earth to solve a case. And to completion. I seriously doubt that she would just take off…Unless she's out there looking for Haley. So. That leaves us with several possibilities, none of them looking good."
"C'mon, man," Sidney tried again, turning toward Nigel. "You must know where she hangs out…"
"Since Jordan started looking into the Moreau case," he cast an apologetic look at Garret, "she really hasn't been anywhere. Between that and Woody getting shot - and Slocum running the morgue like we now live in a world of 36 hour days - she really hasn't been anywhere…But I can't find her. I'm serious…It's like she just disappeared! No credit card statements, no bank withdrawals. No one has seen or heard from her. There's no sign of her and that damned rickety El Camino anywhere!"
"Don't worry, it'll break down somewhere and she'll have to call a cab or something," Bug added with confidence. "When have you ever known that thing to be close to a form of reliable transportation?"
"What if we don't find her?" Lily cut in.
"Maybe that's just it…Maybe she doesn't want to be found, for whatever reason," Bug added.
"You don't think she finally snapped because of Woody, do you?" Lily finally posed. "Oh, poor Jordan! She must be hurting so bad!"
"No, that's not it…" Garret said thoughtfully. He swirled his scotch, looking deep into his glass. "We have to convince Woody that he needs to read that letter as soon as possible after he gets out of the Recovery Room tomorrow…"
"You mean today…" Nigel said, looking at his watch. "Almost closing time and we aren't any closer than when we started. Bloody hell!"
Lily looked at Nigel, worry written all over his face. "You better go rest…Aren't you on call? When have you ever known it to be quiet on a Friday?" She tried to make a joke of it as they all rose to leave.
"C'mon, I'll see you get home safely," Bug offered Lily. She nodded.
"We'll meet here again tomorrow night," Garret said. "If any of you hears anything, call me right away."
"Should we keep Slocum up to speed?" Sidney asked.
"No…If there's anything he needs to know about my morgue, or my employees, I'll be the one to tell him!" Garret answered. He smiled at them -- his family -- and felt that, for the first time since he'd left the morgue, he actually wanted to really fight for his job. His pity party was officially over.
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