FEEDBACK: Yes, please. I respond to everything except flames. Constructive criticism is valued.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made. It's all for fun.

Part Six: That's Nuts

July 6, 2006

Jordan stood in front of the board. She'd put up the names of the four victims and now solicited what they knew from everyone else in the room. Nigel had her add the hair color, with a star next to the ones who'd had their hair dyed brown. Bug added they were all models, or aspiring to be. Jordan added a star next to Cassie Martin, the identical twin. Lily rattled off the names of each girl's agent – except for Ashlynn Dreyfus' because no one knew that. M.O., time between death and discovery of the corpse, everything they could think of went on the board.

"So," Jordan said at last. "We have a killer who's been killing one girl a month. Starting in April-"

"What if he didn't start in April?" It was Garret's first contribution. It drew stares from everyone.

XXXXX

Jordan sipped at the coffee that she already knew she'd need. She heard a voice calling, "Hold the elevator!" She watched the doors slide shut instead. Then, she decided to be mature – she reached out and hit the open door button, and the doors slid obligingly wide. Woody caught sight of her and, for a moment, his step faltered. Jordan stepped to one side. He took the invitation for what it was.

Neither of them made eye contact. "So – uh – you're still here?" Woody rocked on his heels a little.

Jordan nodded, her lips pursed. "Sharp observation. I am, indeed, still here."

"Why?" His tone was more brusque than he intended, his voice hoarse.

"I work here?" Jordan wasn't in the mood to banter. Not with Woody. Part of her kept thinking back to the argument that had almost exploded between them a couple of nights ago – that part just wanted him to go away. She was beyond tired of the dance they couldn't seem to stop doing. It used to have the benefit of a pleasant, easy, teasing intimacy. Now it just had tension. She couldn't face that tension tonight. The other part of her wasn't up to it because of what Nigel had said when he'd winkled out the subject of that argument.

"Jordan! You haven't seen Danny McCoy in months!" He'd protested.

She'd grinned. "Yeah. I know that. You know that. But-"

"Woodrow doesn't know that." Nigel had given her a sidelong glance. "And you'd rather he thought something was going on with Danny."

"No! I – I – Why would I want that?" She blushed as she recalled what she'd said to Woody about Danny and sex.

"Oh, I don't know. Because Danny McCoy is someone who makes Woody jealous?"

Jordan had shooed him away with one hand, but deep down she knew he had a point. And that was the other reason she didn't want to see Woody at the moment. She'd finally sorted out her feelings for him and accepted that the opportunity she'd had had been lost the day of the shooting. She'd come to accept it, to accept the coolness that enveloped them both and she'd begun to move on. She hadn't faked Danny's phone call, after all. She hadn't faked Danny's invite to Las Vegas for the upcoming weekend. She sighed inwardly. She hadn't faked the need to stay in Boston either.

The doors opened on Jordan's floor, and Woody followed her out of the elevator car. Seeing the look on his face, Jordan apologized for her own sarcasm. "It's been a long day."

"And you're not leaving any time soon?" He pointed to the coffee.

She shook her head.

"Can I ask why not or is it because you work here?"

She allowed herself a smile. "Well, I do work here, but Garret said something today."

"Something about…?"

She glanced over at him. "Something about this case – the murders of those models." She unlocked her office door, but leaned against the door frame for a moment. "It got me thinking."

Woody gazed down at her for a moment, feeling a current run between them, a current that felt so familiar, so right, so much a part of who he was. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. "What did he say?"

Jordan wheeled around into her office. She pushed her hair behind her ears. "We've been going on the assumption the killings started in April." Woody nodded. "Garret suggested maybe they didn't start then."

The detective whistled. "Interesting thought."

"Yeah." She sighed.

"So, you're going over old cases?"

She nodded, rubbing her eyes. "Nigel and I were working on it, but he had plans and I told him-"

"Plans?"

Jordan nodded.

"Hmm."

"What?" Her voice betrayed her exhaustion and a measure of suspicion, well-founded it turned out.

Woody shrugged. "Because Nigel called me about half an hour ago and told me you guys had something."

The M.E. rolled her eyes and then couldn't help the grin tickling up the corners of her mouth.

Woody noticed it. He took a step closer to Jordan, trying to stay casual, but wanting to touch her, hold her, be close enough to her to inhale the scent of her shampoo as it mingled with her perfume and her skin. "I think Nigel got me here on false pretenses."

She shook her head, turned her gaze to the carpet and sighed. When she looked up, she was watching him from beneath her lashes. "Yeah, Nigel – uh – um…."

"Yeah," Woody's voice was soft. At his side, his hand twitched, his fingertips remembering how soft her cheek was. She took several steps backward. He bit back the groan of frustration that rose in his chest.

"I – I need to get back to these files."

He nodded. "You want some help?"

"You want to encourage Nigel?"

Yeah, Jordan. Yeah, I do. I really, really do. I want to lock this door behind me, wrap my arms around you and kiss you until neither of us can breathe. I want to make you forget Danny McCoy ever existed. I want…. "If it might get me a lead, I'll take my chances."

She regarded him for a moment. Her eyes sparked with an ember of the old flame as she nodded, swallowing, trying to dredge up spit for a mouth gone suddenly dry. She gave herself a mental –and emotional- shake and moved briskly around her desk. "We hadn't gotten very far." She gestured to a stack of files.

"Those are…?"

"March," she told him bleakly.

He seated himself across from her and drew a pile of records toward him. "Any idea what I'm looking for?"

She shrugged. "Anything unsolved or that we ruled accidental, but seems odd."

"That helps?"

"Not much," she admitted. "But it helps with domestics and drug and gang type cases."

They each read silently, the time ticking away. Jordan took the occasional sip of her coffee, despite its rapid cooling. Woody grimaced on occasion and made a comment or two about the tremendous number of ways people found to die. He had read at least a dozen cases, when he sat up.

Jordan immediately broke off her own reading.

He looked at her and then down at the case file again. "Check this out." He glanced up to make sure he had her attention. "A woman is found dead the morning of her wedding day."

"I said odd, not tragic-"

"No, no! She choked to death – on those – uh – those Jordan almond things. You know, the ones-"

"I know. Okay, so she has really bad taste in snack food."

Woody's eyes darkened. "Why was she eating them before the wedding? Before the reception?"

"She decided not to torment her guests by handing them out?"

"And why was she eating them if she was allergic to nuts?"

Jordan's jaw dropped.

END Part Six