A/N: The usual and standard disclaimer. Writer's block has been haunting me, so I hope you all don't hate this chapter. I'm working on the next several at one time and - as always - trying to keep those annoying little details straight. I have a new admiration for the writers! Anyway, please read and review. Thanks for the many comments, I appreciate them (and use them to show off to dh once in a while!)
PART XI - RUNNING AWAY
"Detective Hoyt?" a little balding man called from the doorway.
Woody was groggy and he soon knew why. He winced as he tried to move his foot and accidentally kicked at his tray. He had asked the nurse for a sedative after Max's rather eye-opening visit the evening before. He had wanted to forget what he'd heard. His heart ached for Jordan -- an innocent victim in a long-standing and dangerous game of politics and blood money and…Well, he'd rather not think about it. No wonder she didn't trust anyone, he thought. It hurt him even more to know that she had tried to trust him, with her feelings, and he had shot her down.
His head had throbbed with the details that Max had set forth for him and Paul. When he had asked Max what prompted the older man to confide in him, Max had paused a few minutes to consider the question...
"Well…" he started, unsure of how to broach the subject. He looked Woody square in the eye. "I know - have known - that you're probably in love with Jordan…And I know she loves you. It'll take some time for her to admit it, but I can't recall her ever being so close to anyone, with the exception of Paul, here…"
"That was so long ago…" Paul had interrupted, trying to assure the detective. "Jordan told me you had asked her about our relationship. Well, once I decided to enter the priesthood, the romance was over. I just needed her - still need her at times - as a friend…If it helps to know this, she was almost glad you were jealous…She mentioned that you had both been skirting the issue of your relationship and she wasn't really sure how things stood at that point…But really, Jordan is just my friend. There's no need to worry about anything more developing between us…"
Woody had apologized, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Jordan was so unpredictable, but for her to talk about this stuff to Paul, a priest…It made him feel worse.
Paul smiled. "Don't, really…There's no need to apologize. I had second thoughts after Father Castinelli's death -- about the priesthood only, not about getting involved again with Jordan." He smiled knowingly at Max. "She is an amazing woman, but I honestly don't think I could ever handle her!" Paul admitted, smiling his assurance.
Both Max and Woody nodded with understanding. Jordan Cavanaugh was more than enough woman for any man, and Woody knew he wanted a second chance now as much as he knew he wanted to walk again. He frowned. "I might have ruined it for good…" he began. "She actually told me she loved me…And I kicked her out of my room."
Max whistled. "Stupid move. But really now, kid…If it took Jordan a few years to admit she loved you, I doubt her feelings will cool that easy. We Cavanaughs are not quite that fickle!" Max defended his daughter.
"I know, but I said…"
"Trust me, she might feel hurt for a while, but she'll come around…" Max said with the authority of one who knew.
"Love shouldn't be so complicated," Woody groaned.
"That's true, it shouldn't. But it is. Besides, no one who has ever fallen for my daughter before has survived this long…I think you'll do fine. Plus, Hoyt…I trust you with Jordan…That's not something a father ever readily admits to. You've come through this far, I'm sure you can handle her," Max gave Woody one of his rare smiles. "That is, if we find her…Garret called me a little while ago…"
"I know. He and Nigel stopped by earlier. I need to get the hell out of this damn bed!" he cursed, then hurriedly apologized again to Paul. "Sorry, Father…"
"Don't worry…I understand it's been a rough week for you, Detective. And I'm still just human…" They were all silent for a moment. Paul suggested they pray, for Woody's recovery and Jordan's safety, and the two men bowed their heads along with the priest as he called out to their God on behalf of the Cavanaugh family. "And please, Father, please return Jordan to the safety of those who love her…Help us find her soon, healthy and alive. Amen…" his voice softly implored.
"We'll find her -- Make no mistake about that!" Woody added after his 'Amen.'
"Well, it's good to see you're determined. But there's more to the story than even I know. And it's time we both found out the truth - the whole truth. I need to find my daughter. And finally clear my name. Those bastards ruined my life…" Max added, "If they harm one hair on her head, I'll…" But Paul stopped him before he could continue.
The men had tried to make small talk after that, but finally departed, leaving Woody to rest.
So Woody had been sitting in his bed, digesting the information he'd been given, his sleuthing skills picking up threads of the conversation where Max's body language had changed ever so slightly, as if he'd still held back a little.
In the middle of all the turmoil, miraculously his legs started to ache. It had been the first time he'd really felt them since the shooting, and he felt a mixture of relief and fear. They hurt real bad, and he wondered how difficult full recovery would be - if it was even a remote possibility. He needed to get up and find Jordan. Doctor Roberts had apparently felt that he could start physical therapy, and he was just waiting for the therapist to arrive and check him over.
His thoughts were brought back to the present by a cough from the foot of his bed. "Are you my therapist?" he finally asked, eyeing the little man in the suit.
Howard Stiles laughed and shook his head. "Uh, sort of…Not physical therapy. Mental therapy. I'm the State Psychologist and I'm here to talk about why you're here…"
Woody frowned. "I don't think I'm ready to deal with that just yet," he said as politely but dismissively as he could muster.
"Sorry, but you don't really have a choice. You see, I'm the one who decides if you're ready to go back to work - strictly from the mental point of view, you understand. I mean, the doctors will have to release you to be able to physically get back to your rounds on the streets or whatever…" he looked down at his notes, feigning ignorance, even though he had reviewed Hoyt's file just that morning. "Oh, Homicide I see. Well, I get to decide if you even have a future at a desk job until the doctor's release comes. So…where should we begin? I don't have much background information. Why don't we start there…?" Howard lied and finally paused, waiting for Detective Hoyt to speak.
"There's really nothing to tell," he tried, his mind wandering between Max's revelation and the fear of failing in the physical therapy, never walking again.
"Oh, come on, Detective…There's always something to tell. What about your family? Do you have relatives in Boston? A significant other somewhere?"
Woody shook his head. "No…No one here. I have an aunt and uncle in Wisconsin. And a brother - somewhere. That's all." He looked down toward the foot of the bed where his useless legs were hidden under the sheet. No one in Boston…He hated the sound of that. Boston had become his home. He couldn't imagine being anywhere else now. And to feel that he had no one…It hurt. Deeply. But he didn't want this shrink guy to know it, so he tried to smile one of his bright, winning smiles,dimples and all. "Nothing else, really."
"Not convincing enough…" Howard said, chuckling a little. The man in the bed was trying to be charming…They always did when they were trying to convince you that they didn't need therapy. "Alright. So. This is where I delve into the more focused, but dreadfully boring, details of your background. What about your parents? And you don't know where your brother is? Were you close growing up? I actually have a sister who lives down past Fenway Park. She hates me," he smiled. "I see her on Christmas only…"
"And you're okay with that?" Woody was surprised by the admission, and Howard caught on. He must have had a close friendship with his brother, something Howard had never shared with Myra...
"Not exactly. But I can't say I'm surprised. I was the favorite, you see. More personality," Howard bragged. "That and my handsome features," he joked, turning so Woody could catch his profile. His face turned serious again. "But back to you, Detective…Were you close to your brother? What about your parents?"
Woody ignored the reference to Cal. "Both deceased,"he responded, his voice flat and void of emotion. He'd repeated it so many times for so many people over the years that he could actually keep a poker face and not let anyone see the agony and havoc their deaths had caused, albeit at different stages of his life.
"And how did that happen?" Stiles urged his patient to continue.
"My mom died when I was four. She had cancer. I barely remember her anymore," he said, a trace of regret in his voice. He had looked at her picture every day for years, until he had finally realized that he didn't know her and would never know her. Over the years, his aunt tried to resurrect her memory for him and for Cal, which had only grown to annoy him. Try as he might, he just couldn't summon the smell of her skin or the sound of her voice or the softness of her hands when she had brushed his tears away and soothed him from nightmares or bandaged a cut. He couldn't remember any of it, and felt as though he had betrayed her.
"Wow, that's pretty young to lose a parent. I have another patient I see from time to time…She lost her mother at a young age as well - a murder, actually. Hasn't ever gotten over it. Quite frankly, I don't know what will happen to her when she finds out what actually happened…But I digress -- I see you've been able to move on…" he looked down at the notes he'd scribbled from meeting with various detectives and officers who had worked with Woody. Stiles had done his homework, gathering information about the shooting and about the young man in general. "You seem pretty stable, pretty motivated. I see you've even won an award from the governor for bravery." Howard whistled, clearly impressed. Woody nodded, his cheeks flushing a little in embarrassment.
"It wasn't a big deal…" he stammered modestly.
"Humble too? Amazing…So-o. Tell me a littleabout your father? You mentioned that both parents were deceased?"
Woody nodded. "Yeah. He died when I was sixteen. Work-related." He tried to leave it at that, but Howard fished for more.
"What kind of work did your father do?"
"He…He was a…sheriff. In Wisconsin." Woody stopped to think about the shooting, his own shooting - and how he'd been so blind to think that no one would shoot him because he was likeable, even-tempered. Unlike his father…
Stiles' eyes widened. "So you decided to pursue a career in law and justice too? Was your father your hero?" he asked quietly.
"Hardly," Woody sneered. "He was strict, unforgiving at times. I mean…" he tried to recant, not wanting to make his father out to be the bad guy. "He did the best he could I guess, raising my brother and me after Mom died. He made sure we had food, clothes, shelter. That we went to church. That we got good grades…"
"So how, exactly, did he die? You said it was 'work-related'…" Stiles nudged.
"He was shot…" Woody whispered, closing his eyes, hoping he could continue to keep those memories hidden under the cool and calm veneer he'd tried to build. He'd kept emotions locked up for years and he wasn't going to let them loose now -- Jordan wasn't the only one who had her walls…
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Jordan pretended to sleep as she observed Cal from across the room. He had been snoring softly, occasionally turning left, then right, trying to get comfortable. He had gallantly let her have the bed and had slept in the chair across from it, his feet propped on the table. You could tell that he and Woody were brothers, she thought, studying his features. But Cal was definitely not as saintly, she thought with a smile, remembering how he'd hustled their way into a free room. They were still headed south, now on Route 81. Cal had driven through the night and now they were almost into Pennsylvania - a definite detour from Boston. But Cal was afraid Mr. Bo-Sox was tailing them, and Jordan's safety was paramount, so he'd suggested going south and then circling back up north. So far it had worked, as neither of them had seen the man lurking around their currentmotel yet.
"Like what you see?" Cal asked, one eye open and peeking out at her.
"Cal!" Jordan blushed and threw her pillow at him.
"What?" he asked feigning innocence, then grabbing the pillow mid-air and propping it behind him. "Just kidding…Say, I was thinking and, uh, well -- I was wondering something…"
Jordan sat up, clutching the thin sheet and blanket to her. "Yeah, I'll bite…" she started, knowing that Cal had not finished questioning her...She'd escaped thatconversation, but only temporarily. They'd been quiet during most of the trip, and she'd finally managed to get a few hours' sleep.
He stood and stretched, peering out through the blind to make sure they hadn't been discovered. "If you didn't know you were being followed, where were you going? I mean, Woody's still in the hospital. I just thought…" He stopped, turning to look at her. "I thought you were in love with him."
Jordan looked down at the blanket, her smile fading. "I, uh…Oh, hell…I am…" she offered softly, a tear escaping and trailing down her cheek. "I just…He just…Well, it's, uh…complicated…" She brushed her hand across her face, wiping away the trace of emotion.
"It's Woody, so it can't be too complicated…" Cal began, moving toward the door. "He's about as Boy Scout as they come…Very predictable. Always has been, at least ever since I can remember."
"Hey, give the man some credit…He can be dark and mysterious…" Jordan defended, smiling as she remembered certain situations where the detective had actually surprised her by breaking away from his usual predictability. "He's not the naïve Wisconsin sheriff he used to be."
Cal shook his head. "I don't believe it…Woody won't ever change. Not that radically anyway…Believe me, I know…" his voice trailed.
Jordan looked over at him, saddened by the strained relationship the brothers seemed to share. "He really is a great guy, Cal…And I do love him. It took me forever to admit it to myself." Her voice was full of regret. "But…" She hastily changed the subject. She was half surprised that she had admitted that much before she knew whether or not she was going to trust Cal. Maybe it was too late to decide, she thought, stretching her legs out in front of her and watching his face. "Lord knows that your brother has rescued my ass too many times to count…The other day -- I found something. I left because I…I just couldn't put him in any more danger."
"Danger? That's my middle name…" Cal started.
"Oh? I thought it was 'Trouble'…" Jordan shot back, trying to lighten the conversation. He raised an eyebrow at her and sat back down. "Besides, I thought we were talking about Woody…And his middle name is not 'Danger'…"
"Yeah, more like 'I Told You So'," Cal said acidly. He stretched and turned to peer out of the blinds again. "So…Back to my Twenty Questions…Where exactly were you going?"
"I don't know."
"Good. That makes things a little easier. I mean, we can double back to Boston, since it's not like you have plans somewhere else. But you have to be honest with me, Jordan. What were you running from? I've run enough times in my life, and I don't think I've ever just left without my house keys. I grab them from habit if nothing else. Were you really not going back -- ever?"
"I hadn't really planned to go back…" Jordan looked over at her suitcase, knowing that she would probably show Cal Haley's file at some point. She reached over, leaning dangerously half-off the bed, trying to grab at it, and succeeded in un-zippering the suitcase half-way before she fell off the bed with a thud.
"Quiet…People will think we're up to something!" Cal joked, his eyebrow raised, a grin on his handsome face.
"Cal!" she screeched, her cheeks flaming, before turning to rifle through the suitcase andthrowing a pile of clothes onto the floor.
"I didn't think you blushed…" he remarked, leaning forward in the chair. "Although maybe I just never caught you at one of those moments. Last time, it seemed like Woody was doing most of the blushing. Remember?" Cal reached up and turned her face toward his. "Seriously. What's going on? If you really do love my brother, why are you running away?" He opened his mouth to tell her about her El Camino and her mess of an apartment, but thought better of it. That was news that he hoped he could keep from her at least until they got back to the city.
She brushed him away and pushed herself up off the floor, before her other arm became lost in the suitcase again. "I'm getting to that…" Her head disappeared under the half-zippered flap.
"Why don't you just unzip it all the way?" Cal asked, trying to hold in his laughter.
"Oh, I never do anything the easy way…Woody would be the first to tell you that…" she said before finally appearing with a thick manilla file folder. "It's all in here…" she offered.
"What is?"
Jordan shook her head, still shocked at what she had learned. "Well, most of it is a case file…A case I started working the other day. The rest -- It's about my…father. I still have no idea what was going on, but this one slip of paper…"
"That can't be good…" Cal said, noting her downcast eyes. "Is he okay? I mean, your father…Is he okay?"
"Depends on your definition, I guess…If you mean is he still alive, well -- I don't know. I haven't heard from him in a while. If you mean is he okay -- well, I doubt it. All the lies I've heard all my life…I just - I just don't know anything about him anymore…" Jordan's tone was bitter. "C'mon, I'm sure you don't want to hear all the sordid details of my life…" she began. "That would take a long time…"
"Actually, it turns out that I'm free for breakfast," Cal said, his mouth turning up in a smile. "How 'bout it…On the condition, of course, that you don't ever tell Woody…He might think I was trying to, um..."
"Ah, Mary Alice MacKenzie, was it?" Jordan smiled, referring to the infamous prom date.
Cal smiled. "You know, she really did break up with him first," he told her in all seriousness as she pulled him toward the door. "Oops! Wait a sec…"
He reached into his pocket for a penny and slipped it carefully between the door jamb and the door itself. "This isn't the kind of place where I'd expect room service, so…" he said with small apology. She nodded in agreement as he carefully closed the door.
"Smart," Jordan said with admiration, hoping the coin would still be there when they returned.
-----
Garret threw open the door to Autopsy Three, walking right to the slab where the body of a woman about Jordan's size waited, obviously burnt beyond recognition. Jack Slocum was peeling off his gloves. "Hello there, Garret…Don't worry, it isn't her…" he began, his voice steady and in control.
"Then who the hell is it? Detective Framus found the body in Jordan's El Camino…What was this woman doing there?"
"We're trying to match up dental records now. I have Bug working on that. I wanted to talk to you anyway. Why don't we go into my office…"
"You mean my office," Garret said acidly.
Slocum merely nodded, holding the door open for Garret. "I need to ask you a little about Doctor Cavanaugh. Quite frankly, she has a history of -- shall we say -- going off the deep end. Do you think she's capable of murder?"
"Surely you aren't suggesting that Jordan torched her own vehicle and murdered someone in the process?"
"No, I'm not…Not with all the other weird incidents that have occurred in the past forty-eight hours. I just wanted to rule out the possibility."
"Always so thorough," Garret commented dryly. Slocum raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "Look, I want you to pull every single resource you have at your disposal and find Jordan…"
Slocum nodded, his fingers slowly and deliberately arranging the paperwork that sat in the middle of his otherwise uncluttered desk. Lily had taken away the files that morning, and now there was no trace of Jack's witch hunt. "Garret…I think I can convince the governor to put you back on the payroll, but with all the press, it might not be easy, and I doubt you would be reinstated as CME right away…" he said finally. Garret looked at him in surprise. "True, I love being in control. But this morgue is what it is because you built it up…"
"Damn straight I did!"
"The morale of the employees, it astounds me…" Jack continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted. "I looked through every single one of your files, every single one of their files…No mistakes. Except that Moreau case. Nothing else. All the work was - is - above board. Excellent…"
"I don't need you telling me how great this office is. I already know. What I need you to do is track down Doctor Cavanaugh…"
"And I plan on attending to that. It's our top priority...I need to know - " Jack was interrupted.
"Bridget Carter…" Bug burst into the room, his eyes bright with relief. "It's not Jordan! Her name is Bridget Carter. She's been missing for months, about the same time Haley's agents went undercover."
"Well, find out where she was," Garret ordered. "I want to know anything and everything we can about how this woman lived, disappeared, spent her last few hours…"
Bug looked from Garret to Slocum and smiled when the older man didn't challenge Garret's authority. "Yes, sir, Doctor Macy!" Now there were two reasons to be relieved, he thought, happily heading back toward Trace.
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Cal bit his lip, trying to hold in his laughter. Jordan was telling him about some of her escapades with Woody, and it was all he could do not to burst out laughing right in the middle of the restaurant. He just couldn't imagine some of the scenes Jordan had described, thinking back to his childhood with Woody watching over him…It was like she was describing a stranger. Apparently, Jordan Cavanaugh brought out some sides to his brother that he hadn't known existed. Finally, the waitress brought their food and he had time in their silence to compose himself. But every now and then he would smile thinking about Woody doing this or that…He wished he could've known Woody's fun-loving, carefree side and determined that he would mend their relationship as soon as possible.
The waitress came over and interrupted them to take their orders. After that, the conversation dwindled. "I thought you were going to talk to me a bit about that file…" Cal looked pointedly at the folder on the table next to Jordan.
"I'll get to it…I just need to talk myself into it first." Her smile faded and Cal left her alone with her thoughts.
-----
Nigel stood outside Woody's room. "Should I tell him?"
Lily nodded. "I think you have to…After telling him Jordan was missing, he's bound to start asking some of his friends to get him some information. If he finds out Jordan's car...Or that you knew Cal was there…" Lily didn't finish her thoughts, but looked pointedly at Nigel.
"Right. Great. How do I even start?" he muttered to himself.
"You start by walking into that room, Nigel. Go…" Lily nudged him and followed, closing the door behind her.
"Hi guys!" Woody tried to be bright. His legs were bothering him, and he tried to shift on the bed. "Hey, can you move this damn thing for a minute?" He indicated the tray, and Lily pulled it toward the window. She saw him move one leg and then the other.
"Oh my God! You can move your legs! Woody, that's wonderful!"
Nigel shook Woody's hand. "Congratulations, man. That's great! We'll have you back on the streets of Boston solving crimes in no time!"
Woody smiled, encouraged. "Right now there's only one mystery I want to solve…" He saw Lily and Nigel exchange glances before Nigel turned to stare out the window, and his smile faded. "What? What's wrong? Have you -- found anything?" he swallowed, almost afraid to ask.
Lily nodded, but Nigel remained silent.
"Nigel? Come on, man…You have to tell me…Is she okay?"
Finally, Nigel turned around, his eyes slightly tearing. "We don't know…Her El Camino was found yesterday, a woman's body burned…"
"What!" Woody's face became ashen.
"Ni-gel!" Lily reprimanded. "It wasn't Jordan, Woody…" she assured him. "Bug called me a little while ago to confirm it -it was someone else. But…" she turned to the criminalist. "Nigel, a little help here…"
"I dusted her door for prints. I found a perfect latent print…seemed to be fresh. I mean, there weren't any prints on top of it, or smudging it, or..." he stopped, not sure he wanted to continue.
"So did you get a match? Did you drag the bastard in for questioning? Whose print was it!" Woody was starting to get worked up again and Nigel feared that he would need to call the nurse for another sedative.
"Cal."
"What about Cal?" Woody asked, trying to sit up. "What does Cal have to do with this? Where's Jordan?"
"Woody…the print belonged to Cal…"
"But Cal was never at Jordan's apartment the last time he was in town. He stayed at my place…Oh god! You don't think…?" He collapsed back on the bed, his emotions truly drained. "What does Cal have to do with Jordan's disappearance?"
Nigel shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he has nothing to do with it…She had me try to track him down when you were brought in."
"No," Woody was shaking his head, his tone full of hurt and anger and fear. "No…If Cal is around, he had something to do with it. That man is bad news!"
"That 'man' is your brother!" Lily defended.
"Only by blood…I've had it with him and his gambling and drinking and his drug habits and god-knows what else…You can bet that he had something to do with this…And if he did, that man is a dead man as soon as I can get out of this bed!"
Lily was shocked. "You -You don't mean it!"
"Oh don't I? He almost had her killed before. If he hurt one hair on Jordan's head…I'm not gonna' bail his ass out this time. As far as I'm concerned, Cal is a wanted man…" The venom in Woody's voice scared them.
-----
Cal and Jordan had finished their breakfast and were drinking coffee, with minimal chitchat. After a few minutes, Jordan's eyes started to dart around the room, and Cal knew she was trying to see if someone was still following them. At the same time, he noticed her wistfulness and figured she was reliving all of her memories with his brother, as if it were finally over, and that thought sobered him. "Jordan…" he started gently.
She looked up at him, her eyes damp from a combination of laughter and tears, and smiled for his benefit. "Don't worry about it, Cal…Really. If he is okay, then that's all I need to hear. I need to move on. At least, that's what I keep telling myself…"
"I don't think that's the case…At least let's get back to Boston and let me talk to him…"
She shook her head, then paused as a man wearing a Boston Red Sox hat casually strolled in to the dining room and glanced around. She ducked down, pretending to fish a napkin off the floor, before his eyes could settle on her. "I think he's here…Look over by the register, Cal!" Jordan whispered. "You said medium height and build, dark hair, Bo-Sox hat…"
"Son of a bitch!" Cal swore. "We've got to get you out of here…"
"Yeah, but I don't think the bathroom window will work this time!" she hissed. "How can I get past him? He's blocking the doorway!"
Cal surveyed the situation, his face grim. "C'mere and kiss me!" he pulled at Jordan, trying to get her into his lap.
"What!" she bat at his hand with her fist. "Did you not hear anything I said, about your brother? You know, how I have feelings - for him!"
"Just trust me!" he said, feigning confidence, and pulled her to him when the Bo-Sox guy looked the other way. "You can't stay bent over all day. Just pretend we're together…together…and maybe we can get out without him getting a good look at you."
"At least not from the front!" Jordan was indignant. "It's gotta' be, what, fifty feet at least to the counter, then another few to the register and the doorway…Are we supposed to just kiss our way through the restaurant!"
Just then, the waitress walked over. "Hey," Cal said in a half-whisper. "I need a little help with something. You see that guy over there?" He pointed and she nodded, moving closer. "Well, he used to beat up my fianceè here, and I want to get her out of here without him noticing us…You got a back way?"
The waitress, a girl named Cis with bleached hair piled on top of her head, cracked her gum. "Oh, honey, you can go through the kitchen." She pointed toward the swinging doors. "Just give me a sec and I'll try to get him to turn around…I hate wife beaters...Or women beaters anyway." Cis glared, then waltzed over to the man, her hips swaying seductively. "Hey sugar!" they heard her as she sidled up to the man, her hand running up and down his arm. "You need a table? You can sit in my section…" she brushed against him and turned him toward the opposite corner from where Jordan still sat in Cal's lap.
"Your fianceè!" she rose, grabbing Haley's file while Cal threw some cash on the table, watching to make sure their guy was still distracted. It looked like Cis was doing a great job.
"Hey, we're getting out, aren't we?" Cal hissed as they quickly walked through the double doors. "Don't worry, I left her a nice tip!" The kitchen personnel were staring and Cal quickly related the woman-beater story before someone pointed them toward the back door. "Thanks a lot!" he called over his shoulder just before Justin Page burst into the kitchen.
"Run!" one of the chefs cried out, someone else tripping Justin before he could reach the back door. He pulled a gun and began shooting at Cal and Jordan.
Cal instinctively pushed Jordan out of the way and dove across her. He tripped and stumbled to get up. "Come on!" she yelled, already up and running ahead of him. They raced around the corner and jumped into the van. "Let's go! Step on it!"
The van lurched forward and peeled out of the parking lot, Justin Page catching a glimpse of Jordan in the passenger seat before they disappeared around the corner. "Oh, god…I think he got a look at the van…"
"Jordan…He had to have seen us leave that first motel somehow if he tracked us here. We have to get back to Boston. I won't feel safe until I know you are…" He was silent for a few moments. "I'll have to swing by the hotel…Most of my cash is in my duffle bag. Do you need anything?"
Jordan nodded and sighed, her brain fighting to think clearly. "Just grab whatever you can…" What were their options? "I could always call Haley…" she offered. But Cal could tell she wasn't ready to talk to the man who had dug up more than she even knew about her own past.
"Look, I don't think you're ready to call him. I think we should talk to Woody first…"
"No!" she cried out. "Absolutely not! First, he doesn't want me in his life. Second, he's not your biggest fan either. And third…" she paused, unsure of what to say next, of how to explain why she thought that everyone she loved and cared about could be in danger if they returned to the northern city. She sighed again. Maybe she should just look at the file again. But some of the words - the names - that had jumped up from the page - Irish mob, high-ranking government officials, her own father - they had all been playing a dangerous game…And she wasn't about to lose Woody because of it. "No, Cal…No way."
"Well - You got a better idea? You can't run from him forever, Jordan."
"That's exactly what I can do…"
"No. You've got to face your feelings, make him face his. You and I both need his help…It makes the best sense."
"Cal, no…please," she protested and pleaded, but the determined look on his face assured her that they were going back to Boston, if not right away then very soon.
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