A/N: The usual disclaimers apply. I am so thankful for your reviews...They really inspire me to keep plugging away at my story. I haven't even had much time to read many other FanFics because I've been trying to keep up with this! I hope you are all enjoying it so far! Thanks again to all of you...As always, please read and review.
PART XIII - NO PAIN, NO GAIN
The sun shimmered through the windshield, half-waking Jordan with its light. She mumbled and tried to turn to her side, the seat belt stretched awkwardly across her frame. "Hey, you finally awake?" a sexy male voice spoke into her dream. She smiled and nodded, still mumbling, before her eyelids started to flutter open. Her hand immediately rose up to shield her eyes from the harsh rays of the sun and she looked around, trying to gauge her surroundings. Her eyes finally settled on Cal, who was grinning at her while munching a doughnut. "Want one?" he offered, holding up a small bag. "Coffee's here too…I figured you took it black." The cups were perched precariously in the cup holders, and Jordan reached for the one on her side, hoping to get to it before it tipped over. "I know, they should make the cups smaller or the holes bigger in these stupid things," Cal said, reading her mind.
Finally, Jordan had a sip of her coffee. "Mmmm…"
"Well, at least you're alive…I didn't think you were a morning person." The minivan was parked across from a Dunkin' Donuts store, in the lot of some shopping center. Jordan was glaring at him. "What? I mean, you just seem like you work better, you know -- nights." He was thinking about Jordan's weird hours the last time he was in Boston.
The lot was just starting to get busy, so it was probably still pretty early she surmised. "How did I get…here?" Jordan asked, looking around at the parking lot.
"Drove," Cal said matter-of-factly while she tried to think back to the last thing she remembered, and the last thing she had remembered was sitting at the motel reviewing Haley's file while Cal slept.
There was something...She shook her head as if to clear it, then finally rememberd. "Oh my god, Cal…We have to get to Haley's chief…"
"What is it?" Cal asked, shifting in the seat after noting the serious look on her now alert face.
"You remember that file?" She waited for his response.
"You mean the one you won't share with me? Yeah, I remember…And Jordan, I think you can let down that wall now. Really, trust me…" He pointed to the floor board between them, where the manilla file folder was lying flat.
She smiled at him. For being so resourceful, not to mention good-looking and fun to hang around with, Cal had a very fragile ego…Made so by his older brother. It was probably the only thing that really bothered her about Woody…He seemed to be so -- unforgiving. "Cal, I'm not Woody, you know…I do trust you. That's why it's important that we get to the chief right away…" She picked up the folder.
"Well, aren't you going to fill me in?" Cal asked, half teasing and half serious. She nodded. "Do you know who it is we're looking for? Do you know where we can find him?" She shot him a look. "Or her. C'mon, give me a little leeway -- I'm from a hick town in Wisconsin. You know, the women's right movement hasn't totally caught up to us…" He smiled, showing a hint of the dimples that graced Woody's face, but Jordan didn't stop to notice. "Well? Where can we find the chief?"
"Umm…" Jordan was frantically flipping through papers in the file. "Yep. Here it is. Chief by the name of Marcone…No first name listed here. I don't like the looks of this…" she started. "I think I should talk to someone I know I can trust…Like Garret Macy. He is…" she stopped, quiet for a moment, remembering. Hell, she didn't even know if Garret was in jail for perjury. "He was," she corrected herself, "the Chief Medical Examiner…My boss. You met him during the…dig."
Jordan saw Cal's cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry about that, Jordan. You have to know by now that I would never put you in danger -- at least, not purposely." He let her remark about trusting someone slide. He was beginning to learn that Jordan didn't trust anyone too easily. And his stupid brother wasn't helping things along, he thought, then felt guilty. Hell, Woody had been shot. Maybe he was too out of it to know what he was saying. It would soon be straightened out anyway…
"Cal -- it's okay. We don't need to go back to that…We can just pick up from here." Jordan reached for his hand, interrupting his thoughts. "And right now, I think we should see Garret first…Maybe make a copy of some of this stuff and let him hang on to it…Just in case." She held up the folder to Cal.
He turned his key and started the engine. "Well, we're close to the Massachusetts border and you can fill me in as I drive…Boston, anyone?"
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Garret and Nigel were pouring over a few dozen photographs of Jordan's apartment, looking for any detail they had missed. After combing the place again for forensic evidence they may have overlooked, Nigel had shot several rolls of film, being careful to get the apartment and the intruder's mess from every angle. He had about ten prints blown up on the computer, with what seemed like a million more to go.
"Any luck?" Lily stuck her head into the room. Garret shrugged, bending over a frame with a magnifying glass. "You, Nige?" she addressed the Brit.
"Actually, there's something not quite right with this set of pictures…But I can't put my finger on it…"
Lily walked over to him and leaned over his shoulder. "Let me look…Sometimes all you need is a different perspective," she smiled.
"Sure, knock yourself out, love…" Nigel started. "Speaking of, did you talk to him yet?"
"Who?" Garret asked, looking up from the shots of Jordan's ripped and torn mattress.
Lily blushed and shook her head at Nigel. "Nothing, Garret. Hey…" she looked intently at the screen, steering the conversation away from her feelings for Bug. "Nigel…I don't think...These aren't Jordan's keys…"
"What?" Nigel asked. "Are you sure?" He magnified the photo as Garret walked over and peeked at the screen.
"I'm positive…Remember when we went down to the pub the last time…Before Doctor Slocum came," Lily tried to be tactful.
Garret groaned. "Yeah, I remember that. Jordan was almost too drunk to walk…"
"Oh, right! She and our Woodrow were playing some drinking game, but I was'nt quite sure of the rules."
"That's because it was an 'inside joke' kind of game -- That was the only intelligible thing I could get out of Jordan on the way home," Lily informed them. "She and Woody were both so drunk that we didn't let either of them drive. I think…Nigel, didn't you end up taking Woody home?"
Nigel nodded. "Me and Bug -- for a trim fellow, he's quite heavy. And -- you took Jordan home. You would have needed to use her keys to get into her apartment!"
"Yep…And I hate to tell you guys, but from what I remember…These are not Jordan's keys!"
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"Any luck?" Cal asked, looking up from the photocopier. Jordan shook her head. She had tried all the numbers she had for Garret and was starting to fear the worst. Maybe Walcott had gotten him jail time for perjury. But as much as Jordan clashed with the District Attorney, she had a hard time believing Renee would stoop so low. "Well, I'm almost done here. Then we can go wait at his apartment," Cal put the last of the documents from Haley's file on the copier screen and hit the start button. "Two copies, just like you wanted. I still think we should go see Woody first."
"Alright already," Jordan gave in. Truthfully, she was looking forward to it. To seeing for herself that he was okay. To trying again…
"No need to twist your arm this time?" Cal grinned. "Say," he started, wickedly, heading toward the front register at the Copy Max store. "…when are you going to have sex with my brother?"
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Miranda got off the bus two blocks from Pearle Street. She jogged smartly past the various storefronts and brick apartment buildings and brownstones that made up this section of Boston, finally slowing when she reached number 227. From what she had gotten out of Jason Page, Doctor Jordan Cavanaugh was one tough cookie and was, he believed, headed back toward Boston. He had lost their trail when they had run from the restaurant. So Miranda had come prepared. She put her hand into the front pocket of her warm-up suit and patted her 10mm Glock 29 lovingly before stepping under the crime scene tape.
She approached the building, her pace slowing to a business-like stride. A uniformed officer was posted in the hallway. "Jill O'Connell, FBI," Miranda lied, all business and flashing her badge. The balding officer tipped his hat without checking her ID and let her pass, and she started up the stairway so he wouldn't know what floor she was on. It didn't take long for her to get into Doctor Cavanaugh's apartment. She scanned the mess quickly and cursed when she saw a set of keys sitting out on the counter. Grabbing them with a now-gloved hand, she slipped them into her front pocket, opposite the glock. A quick glance at the clock told her that her time was almost up. She needed to be quick and efficient, she reminded herself. She rifled through the few files that lay open on the counter, the papers scattered as if someone had thrown them there. Not finding anything that contained information familiar to her plight, she walked back toward the bedroom. No files, no papers. That, she thought smugly, could only mean one thing. Doctor Cavanaugh had the papers with her, had probably read them by now. She would have to act fast, before the bitch had the chance to contact anyone. I have no choice now, she thought, patting the gun in her pocket. The doctor must die.
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Jordan sat quietly in the corner of Woody's room watching him sleep. His breathing was deep and even, much improved from the last time she'd seen him, before she had left Boston. She wondered how she could explain things, wishing she wouldn't have been stupid enough to leave him a note. What could she possibly say when he woke up? Her usual repertoire of sarcasm and dry humor just didn't seem appropriate. She clasped and unclasped her hands, trying to think of some outlet for her nervous energy. God, why was she so nervous? It was Woody, right? Her very best friend…The man she hoped she could spend the rest of her life with. But the thought of their last conversation started to pick at her, and she rose as quietly as possible. Maybe she could see him another time, she reasoned -- maybe on a case. Then she wouldn't feel so awkward, like a teenage girl with a case of puppy love. Only she was well past her teen years, and this was certainly no case of puppy love. From the time she'd learned that Woody had been shot, she had realized with intense clarity that she really, truly loved him. It scared her, this strange new feeling. Instead of wanting to run away, she wanted to stay rooted where he could find her. She hadn't wanted to leave in the first place and now what could she say? She stood and tiptoed toward the light in the hall, and almost made it to the door when she turned to look at Woody again, bumping into his tray with a loud clatter. He woke instantly, almost jumping up out of the bed, and she realized that the loud noise had probably reminded him of the shooting. His eyes darted around the room, finally settling on her.
"Jordan?" he rubbed his eyes, asif seeing a ghost. "Oh my god, Jordan…is it really you?" His voice was filled with something she hadn't heard the last time they had really talked…She nodded and walked to the bed slowly, giving him time to breathe.
"You didn't expect me to come without some type of grand entrance, did you?" she quipped, instantly regretting how she always went running from the serious stuff she wanted to say. His crystalline eyes were filled with the look of what she hoped was still love…They were not the cold ones that had ordered her out of this same room only a week before - and while that gave her some small hope, it also made her nervous.
"Jordan…Where have you been?" he asked, worry and concern on his face.
"Oh you know…sightseeing this great country of ours, mostly from dive motel rooms. But hey -- I found a friend of yours in the meantime…" she said, not sure how to tell him what she really wanted to say, and her thoughts were jumbled with the seriousness of finding Garret and Haley and the need to tell Woody what her heart had been wanting to say for so long. She could feel her body pulling toward the door, poised for flight, but willed herself to stay.
Woody could see that something was bothering Jordan. She was pacing around, not staying in one spot. It was almost as if she were a child with a sugar high. "Jordan," he spoke a little more firmly. "We've been looking all over for you…Where the hell have you been?"
She wasn't sure how to answer him, not sure of how much he knew. "I was just fine. Really…" His look was skeptical at best, and Jordan knew she couldn't hide the truth from him, especially not if she expected any kind of relationship to develop. "Look, I just had to leave Boston for a little while. I found something about my…"
"Let me guess…About your mother's death," Woody rolled his eyes, impatient. He knew from talking to Nigel and Garret that Jordan's apartment had been trashed, her El Camino torched…To think that it had something to do with her mother's murder was stretching it a bit for him, even though it was a remote possibility. But he was worried about her safety. Hell, couldn't she see that he was in no condition to go off rescuing her? The anger of the past week surfaced, even as he tried to quell the feeling.
Jordan took in Woody's sarcastic tone, but tried to dismiss it. He was hurting, he had been worried -- It was unreasonable for her to think that they could just go back to where they were. But where was that? She recalled their last conversation while jogging. It had turned less than civil when she had declined Woody's offer to take her to the Patti Griffin concert. She was a little confused by his response, especially after the letter, but she thought maybe the shocik of seeing her was taking its toll on him. "Look…I need your help with something…" she started, opting for the easy way out, figuring that Woody's moods were still unsteady, maybe due to medication. At least she hoped...They could always go over the serious stuff later, right?
"Of course you do…" He wondered if they could ever get ahead in their relationship and stop moving backward. She needed him -- didn't she always? He frowned at her. "Jordan, I'm not even back at a desk job yet, in case you haven't noticed." They both looked down at the sheet which covered his legs. It occurred to him that she hadn't asked for an update on his condition, and that thought made him angry. But he was so relieved to see her, he bit back whatever it was he had been going to say next.
In her mind, Jordan was weighing the pros and cons of confiding in Woody. It was true, he wasn't back on the force -- Or even out of his bed, she thought, feeling as though a knife were piercing her heart. She knew he would wonder why she hadn't asked about his condition or his prognosis. She had already found out, having called Doctor Roberts and Doctor Turner the minute she was within the city limits. He would walk again, but how soon was anyone's guess. But even if he wasn't on the force right now, he could get the information she needed. She opened her mouth, throwing caution to the wind. "Look, Woody…Someone has been tailing me up and down the east coast…If it wasn't for Cal, I wouldn't have…"
Woody's face turned instantly at the sound of his brother's name. "Cal?"It was a look ofpure hatred. Jordan had seen him look at child molesters and murders like that…To think that Woody hated his own brother as much as the criminals he put away every day made her step back, unsure.
"Woody, he's your own brother…Flesh and blood…" she began.
Woody's jaw was set. "I don't want you near him, Jordan. He's bad news. He'll only hurt you…Don't you remember what happened with the Albanian mob? You were almost killed, Jordan…"
You were almost killed…It brought up memories of Woody rescuing her from Herman Redding, a man who had killed his own wife and children and left them buried in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. But she shook off the nostalgia of Woody's concern for her distress in that situation. He couldn't possibly be comparing Cal to that…that monster, could he? "Woody, Cal's not gonna' hurt me…"
"Oh really? How can you be so sure? Because you know what -- everything he ever told me most of his life has been a lie…A string of lies. I told you before about his addictions…Come on, Jordan -- we see the results of that kind of lifestyle every day…Hardened criminals who just don't care about the people they hurt…"
"Woody, Cal is not like that!"
"How would you even know? Believe me, I've spent enough time with him in my lifetime to know what kind of person he is…" he said with a small trace of regret. "No. Absolutely not. If he calls you, don't you dare go near him…He's trouble."
"Don't dare? I don't remember that I gave you permission to rule my life!" Jordan stopped her pacing and stared at him, her jaw set. She was not used to anyone trying to treat her heavy-handed. But more than that was the jealousy. Over Cal. Who had been her friend when she had needed him. It was a side of Woody that was -- not like anything she wanted. Not like anything they'd had. His eyes were hard and cold again, the same stranger that had booted her from his room the week before. She tried to steady her voice. "Cal has done nothing but help me the last few days and…"
His face fell. She wanted to move toward him, but his words stopped her in her tracks. "What! You mean you were with him? All this time?" The thought of Jordan with Cal made him almost sick to his stomach. He had flashbacks of his childhood. Of missing out on everything to take care of Cal. Of all the friends he'd lost because of Cal. Of all the dates he'd lost to Cal, all through high school and beyond, because of Cal's rugged good looks, easy going manner and fun-loving ways. Of losing his father's affection because of Cal. Cal...And now Jordan was defending him. That could only mean…He swallowed hard, feeling dizzy and disoriented. Jordan…and Cal.
Jordan saw Woody's face pale and guessed what was running through his mind. "Woody, it's not like that!" Jordan pleaded with him, trying to convince him that nothing had happened.
"You're with him…isn't that enough? And all the while I worried about you, about us…I thought - that is, Doctor Macy, Lily -- they all said you loved me. That you really loved me. And I find out that you've been shacking up with Cal - my own brother, for god's sake, Jordan! How the hell do you expect me to react? What did you think I would say?"
Jordan looked at him, her face a mixture of shock and hurt. "You really think that I would say all those things to you and then leave you for your brother?" she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.
Woody's jaw was tight. "It's not fixable now, Jordan. Not after this…" his voice was heavy. "This time I really do want you to go. Just get the hell out of my life, okay? I can't do this anymore…"
Jordan sunk down onto the chair. It was happening again. He was rejecting her again, for nothing. No reason. At least no sane, logical reason. Her mind went numb. "You can't mean it…" she tried feebly.
"I do. Get the hell out of here. Go back to wherever it was you were going…Go back to him!" he practically spat, his eyes a cold and distant sky. Jordan gazed at him evenly. She didn't see any of the warmth of the Farm Boy she had finally given her heart to.
"But I -- I love you, Woody. I mean it…And you -- you love me. I know you do…" she attempted.
He pointed toward the door. "Anything I may have felt for you is gone." His voice was hard, cruel. Inside, he was just about ready to break down. But he refused to go through her antics again, and he absolutely would not tolerate being second to Cal in any way. Not again. It had happened too many times in his life, and this was the last straw. Cal and Jordan…the thought of it hurt more deeply than anything he had ever experienced…Even the shooting and the surgery hadn't left him in so much pain.
Cal. It was Cal who had risked Jordan's life before. Had she forgotten so soon? He bit his lip, trying to hold back all the hurtful things he wanted to say -- he could barely keep from screaming at her. How the hell did this happen? he wondered. "Jordan…Go," he choked, shaking his head in disbelief.
She was crying now, silent tears streaming down her face. He wanted desperately to draw her to him, to wipe them away -- but he held firm as she finally, slowly rose and started for the door. "You're wrong!" she cried out. "There is no one else…No one! And especially not Cal!"
"Jordan, I'm moving on. This ship has sailed -- for good…So go on back to Cal…" there was venom in his voice as he mentioned his brother's name.
She turned toward him when she reached the door, a look of determination on her face. "Fine, Woody -- if that's what you really want, then that's exactly what you're going to get!" she told him, her voice harsh and unlike the one he heard over and over again in his dreams. "But remember this…You're the one that closed the door. This bridge is burned…"
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