A/N: The usual disclaimer, wish I did own characters, I like where this story is going so far. Wish I could at least meet JOC, but I guess I'll just keep dreamin' there, right? Anyhow...I am anxious for Season 5 to start! Meanwhile, back to my saga...It's funny how those little details evolve sometimes...I found a discrepancy that lent itself to a deeper mystery -- it wasn't planned this way, but that's why I check and re-check before I post and usually catch all those little things. Well, I missed one, but I just wove it back in. Anyway, sorry I always take so long to update...I read so many fanfics too and I hate to be left hanging, so you would think I could move along a little faster, but I guess creativity doesn't run real fast for me at times...Thank you for your patience, and most importantly for reading and reviewing!
PART XII - JORDAN, JORDAN - WHERE ARE YOU?
"Nigel…" Lily began, once they were out of the hospital and headed back toward the morgue. "I need to talk to you…"
Nigel bent his lanky frame down toward Lily to hear her better. "What's that, love?" He indicated the heavy traffic, and pointed toward the coffee shop nearby. "Let's stop a bit, shall we?" he practically hollered. She nodded and followed him as he crossed the street, stepping quickly to match her pace with his long, leggy strides.
"Cappucino please…" she told the barista before turning to Nigel again. "Say Nige…What do you do when you think you don't have romantic feelings for someone you know has romantic feelings for you and then you decide you do have romantic feelings for that person too?"
"Huh?" Nigel looked up as he retrieved a napkin. "Care to repeat that?"
Lily look flustered, but she attempted it again. "There's this guy…And I know he likes me…"
"Ah, Detective Seeley, eh? He's not so personable…I think you could do better…" He turned to the barista. "Carmel mocchiato with whipped cream, please."
She ignored him and went on. "At least…I know he did like me at one time…What if I decided that now I do, in fact, like this guy too…I mean, he's liked me for a while, and I haven't really encouraged him…" They continued to shuffle along down the line, Lily grabbing at a napkin for herself.
"Seriously, love," Nigel said, grabbing his drink after paying. "…Seeley is detestable at times. I think you're the only one he's ever nice to, and that's rare anyway. I think our Lily can do much better."
"Nigel…It's not Seeley…It's someone else -- someone I've, uh, known a long time…" Lily looked down at her cup, her cheeks a becoming shade of pink.
"Whoa Nellie! You aren't saying…?" Nigel started, as the realization slowly dawned on him. "It's not…Buggles, is it?" Lily blushed even more. "A-ha! So it is our Bug!" he cried triumphantly, grinning from ear to ear. His look changed to one of brotherly concern. "But love, why the change of heart?"
She sipped her coffee thoughtfully. "I don't know…He's just so - sweet. He's always been so nice to me and…This is silly…"
"No, go on…"
"He brought me some tea - to calm me down a bit - and he leaned down and kissed me and I…"
"He kissed you! Wow! That's great!" Nigel was beaming at her. "So what did you say? I mean, after…"
"I didn't get a chance…He left to do the autopsy…of the burn victim." She didn't mention anything about Jordan or Jordan's El Camino. "The problem is, now I don't know what to say… I mean, it's Bug, right? And I let him know before that he was only a friend, nothing more…So now how do I act? I mean, it's not like I'm in love with him, but I could be - you know, over time…"
"The 'L' word…Hmmm…We'll have to think on that a bit. Let's just wait and see what he has to say first…"
"Do you think that's a good idea? I mean, he kissed me and ran before I could react -- Don't you think he'll be hurt or something if I don't say anything? I think I should say something. Oh, what should I say!" They walked into the building and stepped into the elevator. "Well? What should I say?" But Nigel was silent and thoughtful as the doors slid shut, heading toward the morgue, where Bug was finishing up in the autopsy room.
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Cal left the van running while he went to grab their bags from the motel, but he was back in an instant.
"What?" Jordan asked. "Where's our stuff?"
Cal shrugged, then pealed out of the parking lot. "I don't know…What I do know is that our friend was in our room. Or at least somebody was…"
"How?"
"Well, remember that penny?" Jordan nodded. "Gone. And so is your bag. And mine. But the room is a mess…the mattress springs were showing, the chairs were overturned. I hope you didn't leave anything too valuable in there…"
Jordan thought for a minute. "Son of a bitch!" she cried out. "I left my locket and my rosaries…stuff from my parents. Woody once rescued my locket for me…" she said wistfully. "I…" her eyes began to tear.
"Hey, it's okay. I promise -- I'll find them for you, once I get you safely to Woody. I can go look for this guy and find out what the hell he wants," Cal said with determination, gunning the vehicle east -- toward New York City and I-95 -- and then back to Boston. "But Jordan -- there is no way I'm going to let you out to look for it now. We have to get back to Woody…"
And Jordan nodded, not bothering to protest.
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Bug was working on the body of Bridget Carter with Sidney when Garret walked into the room in scrubs. No one said anything, each of them trying to find any piece of trace evidence that could tell them where the woman had been for the past six months or longer. "Find anything, guys?" Garret asked, stepping over to observe.
"Well, we have some dirt that was under her fingernails. So far, that's all," Bug offered. "I'll send it to the lab."
"That can't be the only thing…" Garret said. "I want you to comb her body thoroughly. There's an answer here somewhere. And when we find it, hopefully we'll be able to find Jordan…" He paused, his voice thick with emotion.
"Don't worry, Doctor Macy -- we're on it," Sidney assured him.
Garret smiled a little. "I know. You guys are the best of the best…"
"Hey Doctor M. -- Welcome back!" Nigel said as he stepped into the room.
"Thanks, Nigel. I'm not out of hot water yet…But it's good to be back just the same. For now, I need all of you," he looked at them, including Nigel in the mix. "We need to find out where Bridget Carter was. Nigel, I need to talk to you about that letter you took from Woody…"
"I didn't --"
"Nigel…We need to find out what's going on," Garret said simply. The criminalist nodded and followed Garret out of the room.
"Honest, Doctor M…It doesn't help us at all. It just says goodbye. That she loves him but she's leaving."
"Do you think Jordan really left Boston on her own?"
"I don't see how that's possible…Unless someone knew she was going to leave and waited for her to go before torching her vehicle and breaking into her apartment…That way we wouldn't bother to look for her, and Woody wouldn't either. The letter was written by Jordan herself."
"Are you sure?"
"I'd know that writing anywhere…And the things she wrote to Woody -- well, they were intensely personal things -- things I don't think anyone else knew, and a few things I'd only guessed at before," Nigel blushed a little. "If it weren't for the fact that Jordan specifically bid Woodrow her goodbyes, I would show it to him, you know -- see if he had any ideas…But with her missing, I don't think it's a good idea."
"You're probably right. He's almost out of the woods, at least as far as the surgeries go. Physical therapy might take a while, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was back on the force in a few months…"
"Unless he's out looking for Jordan…"
"Well, for now, keep that letter under wraps. I mean no one -- not Slocum, and especially not Woody -- needs to see it right now. In the meantime, we need to get back into Jordan's apartment and see what we can find…"
"Right, Doctor M. I'm on it!" Nigel started to leave but felt Garret's arm on his shoulder.
"Not without me…I'll drive."
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"Eddie! Hey, man - How are you?" Woody greeted Eddie Winslow as the other detective knocked on his door.
"Hey, I hear you're gonna' be just fine. Congratulations!"
Woody gave a wide smile. "Doctor Roberts and Doctor Turner are going to send a physical therapist down one of these days, so hopefully it won't be too long before I'm outta' here. I have a few cases I need to work on…"
"That's what I'm here to talk to you about. I need to go over a few things with you, some of your cases that were reassigned when you got shot."
"Sure, man. Which ones?" Woody tried to ignore the funny feeling in his stomach when Eddie mentioned the shooting.
Eddie looked down at the notepad he was carrying. "Specifically the Garcia and Jones cases. We have a Mrs. Luz Garcia calling every other day to find out where we are on the investigation…"
"Yeah, Mrs. G. is really nice," Woody remembered the Latino woman fondly. "She just doesn't want anyone to forget about her husband. It seems that Wil Garcia was a step away from drug and alcohol addiction, and she doesn't want us to leave the trail cold because we might think her husband was a low-life scum."
"Any ideas on who killed him?"
"Well, an old buddy of his, Juan Morcado, was paroled about two weeks before the murder, and Mrs. G. said that Juan called Wil from prison right before that. I hadn't been able to contact him before…you know, the, um..." His voice trailed off.
"Hey, it's okay…" Eddie said, noting the change. He tried to steer the subject away from the detective's shooting. "How about Jones?"
Woody shifted his thoughts, glad for the change in conversation. "Hanging, ruled not suicide by the ME's Office. God…You should probably be talking to Jordan about this one…She had an interesting theory…"
"Theories don't belong in the ME's Office…" Eddie started, not wanting to rehash his rocky memories of the beautiful medical examiner and her father.
"Well, she had the forensic evidence to back up her theory anyway," Woody defended, his heart beating a little rapidly.
Eddie tried to calm him down. "Look, you don't need to stress out. I know how Jordan operated. Sometimes I think she had too much cop in her to be an ME, but that's what made her a really great ME." He paused, a frown on his face. "I heard about the call to her apartment…" he started softly.
Woody caught the detective's past-tense. "Jordan's not dead…" Woody told him. "I got word from the ME's office. It wasn't her in the El Camino. It was some other girl -- a Bridget Carter."
"That name mean anything to you?" Eddie quizzed.
Woody shook his head. "Never heard of her before today. But I would like to know why she was in Jordan's car…And where she was before that." He paused. "Any word from Agent Haley? To anyone? I mean, it's hard to believe this FBI profiler would just up and disappear and no one would know anything about it." His voice had gone up and Eddie tried to calm him down.
"Look, I'll see what I can dig up. I know that the Acting CME was there yesterday with one of his guys - Dr. Townsend I think - trying to dust for prints. If our guys missed anything, maybe they got something that will help. Just stay in bed and rest up…"
"I need to find Jordan," Woody said, his heart on his sleeve, and Eddie shook his head in wonder.
"Hey -- I'll do what I can. I promise…I owe it to Jordan, and to Max," he said quietly, remembering his role in having Max kicked off the force with regret. "I'll let you know what I find out. Thanks for the information. And Woody," Eddie said as he reached the door. "Jordan is pretty resourceful if nothing else. I'm sure she'll be okay…" he told the other detective with more confidence than he felt.
"Yeah," Woody tried to smile. Let's hope so, he thought, wondering where she could be. He looked out the window, where the sunlight was quickly fading. Jordan, Jordan…Where are you?
-----
"Drew, honey…We're going for a little ride!" Miranda cooed, before untying his hands. She knew Haley was too weak to try to get away, at least for the moment. He groaned. "It seems we have to pay a personal visit. Your little female friend disappeared - with your file, Drew, imagine the gall! - and now I have to go and find her. You see, I can't wait on you anymore." She saw him open his eyes. They flickered in horror and panic. She laughed. "You must think I'm ready to kill you off! Oh not just yet, darlin'…I might need you to help with this troublesome medical examiner. So count your blessings, Drew. You'll live another day. At least til we get to Boston…" she told him, her words dripping saccharine and sarcasm.
Drew closed his eyes, his muscles sore, his head throbbing, his mind focused on only one thought. He was going to live another day.
-----
"Bingo!"
"What? What've you got?" Sidney walked over to Bug, hoping that he had found something helpful. The fire had damaged almost all of the trace evidence, and what the fire hadn't burned, the rain had most likely washed away. There wasn't much left on Bridget Carter that told them anything.
"Ever hear of forensic palynology?" Sidney started to say something, but Bug interrupted him and continued after clearing his throat. "Forensic palynology refers to the use of pollen and spore -- and sometimes other microscopic organisms like acritarchs, chitinozoans and din flagellates that can be found in fresh and marine environments. I don't know if you were aware, but forensic palynology has applications in a multitude of sciences…For example, of course forensic science, but also in geology, geography, botany, entomology, zoology, archaeology, immunology, and environmental science."
"So it's multi-disciplinatory…" Sidney said. "So what?"
"Well, if some people would let me finish…" Bug teased. "You see, each plant type has its own distinctive pollen that can be distinguished from pollen of other plants, like humans have their own individual set of prints…We can use the pollens and spores to help solve crimes. It's possible in many cases to look at the pollen types that occur in any given sample to narrow down where a person or thing has been -- not just in general, but specifically. Pollen can not only help destroy or prove alibis, link suspects to the scenes of crimes, or link something left at the crime scene to a suspect -- Pollen can also help to determine what country or state different things -- like drugs, food, merchandise, and antiques -- have come from..."
"Oh yeah," Sidney interjected. "I remember. There was this case in Sweden where some experts examined dirt attached to a woman's clothing. They used the pollens and spores to determine whether she was killed where she was found or killed elsewhere and then dumped." He paused.
"Yeah, that was the earliest cases in which pollen data were considered important forensic evidence," Bug finished. "Unfortunately, the murder was not ever solved because there were two different opinions regarding the pollen and grasses. Anyway, there was another case in Austria. The conviction of the criminal was based on the pollen sample. They didn't have a body, as I recall. But mud on the soles of the suspect's boots contained willow, modern spruce, and alder pollen, and a special type of 20 million-year-old, Miocene-age fossil hickory pollen grain present in the mud. They used the pollen samples to narrow the possible crime scene down to a small area 20 kilometers north of Vienna along the Danube Valley. When the defendant was confronted, he not only confessed, but showed the authorities where he had buried the body of his victim!" Bug cried triumphantly.
"Don't we already analyze dirt samples?" Sidney asked, not too impressed.
Bug muttered something intelligible. "Of course we do. But, you see, it's the pollen in this one that will help us find out where Bridget Carter has been all these months…" He held up a prepared slide, a small sample of pollen waiting to be identified centered neatly in a droplet of water.
-----
Jordan slipped her hand into Cal's and they walked slowly toward the counter. "Hiya'. My name's Harry. Can I help you folks?" a kind voice asked. A forty-ish man stood behind the counter wearing a striped button-down dress shirt and khaki pants. He was fumbling with his tie.
"We - my finaceè and I - would like to get a car. I'm tradin' in my van here for something more, uh, family." Cal said with a fake drawl, putting his arm around Jordan's shoulder.
The dealer looked at them knowingly and smiled. "Sure, we can help. Got anything specific in mind?" The pair looked around the lot even as the man stepped out toward them. "Here, let's go take a look, shall we?" he asked. Jordan nodded.
"You lead the way," Cal said, following him toward a row of nondescript vehicles.
"So, trading in the van…Little lady have any preferences? Two door? Four? Minivan?" Harry tried to get a feel for what they were after.
"Uh…how about a minivan?" Jordan asked, spotting a grayish one.
"A minivan? Really?" Cal groaned.
"Darling, you know I want a large family…Might as well get what we want now…" Jordan smiled wickedly at Cal. "Besides, it's gray and I think it will fit nicely in the neighborhood…"
"Oh, uh, yeah…I guess it will," Cal was surprised at Jordan's quick thinking. "We'll take that one," he said to the dealer.
"Don't you even want a test drive?" Harry was looking a little perplexed.
"He meant we'd like to test drive that one…Isn't that right, honey?" Jordan asked.
Cal smiled thinly at her. "Of course, darling…Anything you want…" He turned to Harry. "Yeah, we'd like to test drive that one."
Harry scratched his head. "Well, alright. If you're sure. I'll go get the keys. I'll just need to see a driver's license…" Cal fished in his front pocket for his wallet and handed it to him.
Once Harry had gotten out of ear shot, Cal whined to Jordan. "C'mon…a minivan? Can't we try something a little more upbeat? Maybe something fast enough to actually use in a getaway-type situation?"
"Hey, this whole trade-in thing was your idea…Besides, I thought the idea was to not stand out…" she laughed at him. "I'm really sorry you have to trade in the van though…I hope the owner doesn't mind…"
"I'm not really going to trade it in…We don't have the title."
"Great. So how exactly are we gong to get away with this?"
"Trust me…I haven't let you down so far, have I?"
-----
"Doctor Turner…Doctor Roberts…" Woody offered in greeting. "So, what's the worst news?"
Doctor Roberts looked up from the chart. "Well, Detective…I hardly think there is any bad news at this point. You should regain full use of your lower extremities after a three month program of intense physical therapy…worst-case scenario would be six months. It really is up to you."
"Three months? That's…that's great!" Woody smiled and offered both doctors his thanks. They had just given him his life back, and this time he was determined to live it the way he wanted instead of always skirting around his own feelings, and be damned with the consequences. And, he thought to himself, now I can tell Jordan how I really feel…The thought of Jordan, possibly alone with Cal or being followed by the Albanian mob, made his smile fade - but only slightly. He would be able to walk, and then he would track her down, no matter how long it took.
-----
They had finally stopped for the night, close to the Massachusetts border, in the almost-new minivan. She didn't know how the hell Cal had managed to finagle the deal without the title to the other van. It was nearing midnight. Cal had nodded off quickly, but Jordan couldn't sleep. At first, she wondered if it was because they were sharing a bed. There were no chairs, just one big bed that almost filled the whole dim room, and Jordan had consented to share. Mainly because Cal looked exhausted. She had settled in above the sheet, the bedspread kicked off to one side, and had tried to fall asleep for hours.
But she couldn't. Something that Cal had said earlier in the day kept bothering her. "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." She hadn't had time to process everything that had happened so far. But that one little detail was nagging at her.
Her keys. Of course she'd grabbed her keys. She hadn't thought about it much when Cal had asked her because her mind was on other things…Woody, mostly. Every time she let her mind rest, he filled her thoughts. She was still praying that he would be okay, able to walk and return to the life he so obviously loved. A life she wondered if she could be part of.
But that file. The one that she still had, but hadn't shared with Cal. She got up and walked softly to the bathroom, closing the door so the light wouldn't disturb Cal. She needed to push past the pain of seeing her father's name associated with the long list of criminals and criminal activity that she had glimpsed. It was time she read the rest of the file, she thought, forgetting once again about the keys.
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