Chapter Eight

Money and Morals be Damned

"Do it just like we planned…no surprises, no heroics…" Woody said as they began to surround the house where they suspected Father John and his family was staying. It really hadn't taken too long to find out where Jordan could be after the police had received the license tag from the woman at the crime scene. The tag had been reported stolen, but once the description of the car and the man possibly behind the wheel was put out, it didn't take long for the tip line to begin ringing.

That, and the fact that Garret had put up $10,000 for the safe return of Jordan. Money is always a great motivator, Woody thought grimly to himself. Of morals and everything else…But if got Jordan back safe and sound, money and morals be damned. And he'd be damned if anything like this ever happened to her again. The next time she went out of town by herself, he'd have GPS implanted in her sweet ass if it would help him keep up with her.

He looked in his rear view mirror at himself, noting it looked as if he had aged ten more years since this whole wave of events started. It was bad enough before he knew Jordan was involved. It had gotten steadily worse since he was sure she was in that house somewhere. They'd both need a vacation when this was over…preferably together, at the same place.

If he could get her to forgive him for being an ass…which may take more than his fair share of groveling.

Not that he would mind. Much.

"We've got the house surrounded," another detective radioed back to Woody, breaking into his thoughts.

"Good…let's go in quietly….take him by surprise….and remember, this could easily turn into a hostage situation. Watch each other's back, but be careful with the women. From what I can tell, most of them are probably just innocent pawns in this guy's hands…and if you find Dr. Cavanaugh before I do…"

"Let you know…."

"Roger."

Woody drummed his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently as he waited for the other vehicles to take their positions. The house was dark…and eerily quiet….too quiet. "I don't have a good feeling about this," he muttered to himself just before the uniformed unit went to the door of the house. They knocked and shouted, but no answer. "Move it," Woody finally barked into the radio. Without any hesitation, the men rammed the door open…and flashed their badges and flipped the lights on…and recoiled in horror.

Catching the motions, Woody quickly followed them inside and just as quickly had to turn away, go to the end of the porch, and heave into the bushes.

They were dead. All the women were dead. It looked like gunshot wounds to the head. "Nigel? Garret?" he managed to whisper into the radio.

"Woody? What's wrong?" Garret asked. "Have you found her?"

"No…no…but we need you guys fast. All of you. The women…it looks like they're all dead."

"Jordan?" Garret asked, his voice hard and disbelieving.

"I don't know. I can't bring myself to look."

"Pull yourself together…and get back in there. She may not be in the house…or she may be in there somewhere, someway still alive. We're on our way…"

Woody flipped his phone shut and took a deep breath. Garret was right. She could be in there….and still be alive. Gamely he re-entered what looked like the den area. "How many?" he asked the first uniformed officer he saw.

"Eight in here…three in the kitchen….four upstairs."

Woody felt his stomach heave again. "Dr. Cavanaugh?"

"Not among them."

Relief flooded him…for half a second. That could mean that she was out there as John's
last victim…or John had taken her as a hostage. "Has the entire house been searched?"

"We're still working on the upstairs."

Woody nodded and began to survey the damage in the kitchen. One woman was at the kitchen counter…the other two near the door. Evidently they saw what was happening and tried to get away…but John had been too fast….Avoiding the police photographers, he headed down the small hallway and noticed a bolted door. Sliding the bolt back, he flipped on the light…and made his way down a short flight of stairs.

The fever racking Jordan's body caused her to be burning up with fever and then shivering with chills the next. Her back felt like it was raw and on fire…and in the dark confines of the closet, she couldn't hear or see anything. She was faintly aware of muted sounds upstairs, including sharp thuds. Assuming it was someone else being beaten, she curled up as small as she could in a corner, praying to get away from the noise, the cries of the woman….and then, just as suddenly it was quiet. As still as a church.

But for how long she couldn't tell. At some point in time, she was hazily aware of lots of footsteps…loud voices calling out…all male. That's strange, she thought. John was the only man in this group. She shifted to put her ear to the door, to see if she could make out the obscure sounds more clearly, but the pain in her back shot through her again, and she simply collapsed against the door. It was warm in the closet now…and she was vaguely aware that it was getting harder to breathe….

Then suddenly there was a rush of air as the door swung open…

"Jordan…"

She could have sworn she heard Woody.

"Jordan…Jordan!" His voice was sharper ….it always was with her now that he no longer loved her. She swallowed the bitter tears in her throat. Even in her dreams, he was angry with her.

"Jordan…honey…talk to me…." She felt gentle arms go around her. "Jordan….please…."

"Woody?" She managed to open her eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of his blue ones. "You found me…" she whispered weakly.

"I always do…" He tenderly lifted her in his arms to carry her out of the closet. She moaned at the movement, her body rebelling against the contact on her back. Deciding that carrying her up the stairs may not be the best idea at the moment he gently sat her on the steps, leaning against him. "What hurts, Jordan?" he asked.

When he pulled his arm away from her back, he knew what hurt. The sleeve of his coat was covered with blood. Shifting her away from him for a second, he looked at her back in horror…then pulled her back to him, taking off his coat and wrapping it around her at the same time. "Hey…" he said into his radio. "This is Hoyt. I've found Dr. Cavanaugh alive downstairs, but we're going to need an ambulance…and someone tell Garret..."

"Roger Detective Hoyt…"

"Jordan, what did he do to you?" Woody softly asked her….but she was already nearly unconscious again…the pain, hunger, and thirst catching up with her finally in a place where she felt was safe and could give into it. He pulled her closer and looked her over while waiting on the paramedics to arrive. She was bone-thin….it would take months for her to fill back out and reclaim her feminine curves….and her back…God, what a mess. Woody firmly set his jaw. When Father John was caught, Woody sincerely hoped he would be around to do the same thing to the cult leader.

"Detective Hoyt!" a voice called from upstairs.

"Down here…."

"The paramedics are on their way ….they're coming in the back entrance…"

Woody heard them before he saw them, pushing down the outside door to the cellar. Jordan stirred faintly in his arms and clung to him, protesting when the medics began to move her to the gurney. "Woody?" she whispered and held out her hand.

"R.r…r…right here," he managed to get out, his childhood stammer returning because of the stress. She had lost so much blood and was just so damned thin…he took her hand and squeezed it to let her know he was still there.

"Stay with me…please? Don't leave me…Please, don't leave me?"

Woody felt a dagger go through his heart. She had asked him not to leave her before and he had made a mess of the situation by making her leave…trampling her feelings and her love under his feet.

Taking his moment of hesitation as a no, she pleaded again, "Just until they get me in the ambulance…would you stay? Then I promise, you can go…I won't stop you…"

"Jordan, I'm right here….and I'm not going anywhere." He tightened his hold on her hand again as he began to walk with the gurney and paramedics out to the ambulance.

"The women...Woody…how are the other women?"

Woody didn't answer her question. There would be time later to try to explain it…but not right now. Jordan didn't need the answer to that question. Thankfully, he didn't have to try to even hedge on the answer as they had reached the back of the ambulance. "They didn't do anything, Woody," she continued. "It was all him…if they didn't do exactly what he said…"

"I know," he softly kissed her fingers before they loaded her in the back of the vehicle. Then Woody tried to get in after her.

"Sorry…" one of the paramedics said. "It's against the rules for even Boston PD to ride in the back of these things…and besides, you're not listed as her next of kin… Garret Macy is…and only he can ride up front."