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Part Twelve: An Oldie But a Goodie

August 26, 2006

Woody gaped at her. "The different M.O.'s?"

Jordan nodded. "The serial killer. The puzzle. I get it."

"Okay. Care to share it with me?"

"Just a sec." She sat up and got out of bed, tugging clothes back on and hurrying to the kitchen, where she'd dropped the files when she'd gotten home. She came back with the folders, her notes and a pen. "Now, let's see how much of this I can remember."

"How much of what, Jo?"

She gave him a sly smile. "See if you can follow me here, Woody." She quickly made a chart with each victim's name and month they'd died. Then to each line she added something. Woody read over her shoulder.

Mark Bedakker – January – You start the year off fine

Arlene Rosen – February – You're my little valentine

Maddie Larkin – March – I'm gonna march you down the aisle

Eliza Bowmen – April - You're the Easter Bunny when you smile

Kristy Douglas – May - Maybe if I ask your dad and mom

Ashlynn Dreyfus – June - They'll let me take you to the Junior Prom

Cassie Martin – July - Like a firecracker all aglow

Audra Daley – August - When you're on the beach you steal the show

She finished writing and looked over her shoulder at him. "Well?"

"Uh…? Sorry. I don't get it." She hummed a few bars of the old Neil Sedaka song until Woody's eyes sparked with recognition. "Calendar Girl? Is that the song?"

She nodded. "And it's the pattern. Mark Bedakker was killed on January first, starting the year off 'fine.' Arlene Rosen was killed by a bow and arrow, as if shot by Cupid, on Valentine's Day. Maddie Larkin was the bride in March, ready to walk down the aisle."

Woody got with her train of thought. "Eliza Bowmen was found in a bunny suit. Kristy Douglas? Okay, I'm not sure I get that one."

Jordan rifled the pile of folders, pulling out the one for the girl in question. "Here." She pointed. "Someone called the parents asking if he could take their daughter out. Maybe if I ask your dad mom…. Woody, it all fits."

He looked at the names, the dates, the lyrics Jordan had recalled. He shuddered. "That's pretty twisted."

She nodded, chewing her bottom lip.

"What?"

"Huh?" Jordan looked up. "Oh, well, that explains the M.O.s, but not necessarily the connections between all the victims."

"We'll find it, Jordan."

Still gnawing her lip, she sighed. "We have six days until the clock starts ticking again."

"I wonder what September is." His voice was glum as he thought of the implications of her statement.

"Something about blowing out the candles on your 'Sweet Sixteen.'" She clenched her jaw. "We have to find out who's doing this, Woody. I don't want to autopsy another teenager."

He took her notes from her hands, gathered up the files and took them to the kitchen. She watched him, saying nothing. He switched off the lights and came back to her bed. With a quiet "Come here," he pulled her into his arms. "Jordan, I've never seen you give up. And I've rarely seen you fail. And I think we had a pretty good track record together." He reached for the hand she'd rested on his chest and wove his fingers with hers. "We'll find him."

Slowly, she nodded.

Woody kissed the top of her head and was rewarded by her nestling closer to him. He gazed down at her, glad of the dim moonlight so he could watch her as he eyes closed, and she drifted off to sleep, something she hadn't had the previous night. In sleep, her features relaxed, the guard she could never quite lower completely disappeared, and he could see the woman she might have been if not for Emily, Max… him. He thought of the times over the years when he'd caught glimpses of that woman. The time in the desert. When she'd come to California. Dancing at the Pogue. Karaoke in Los Angeles. Dinners. Coffees. Moments strung together like twinkling Christmas lights. The times she had been content simply to be. Nothing to defend herself against; nothing to prove. The times when all the passion she brought to her job, she brought to her life as well. As carefully as he could, he combed his fingers through her hair. He wouldn't change who life had made her – that realization had been a lot longer in coming than he liked to admit – but he wanted to see her this way more. Content. At peace.

Not to mention naked in bed with him.

That salacious thought made him grin, and he kissed her head again. She didn't wake, but the arm thrown around his shoulders tightened its grip. Listening to her soft, even breathing, Woody fell asleep.

XXXXX

He woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of running water. He stretched, yawning, unable to quit grinning like an idiot. He'd almost lost the one woman who meant the world to him. Who was he kidding? He had lost her for a while. But they'd found their way back to each other and, this time, he wasn't letting go. Might be a good idea to remind her of that.

He nudged open the bathroom door quietly. She was testing the water in the shower. As she began to shed the robe she'd put on, he tiptoed up behind her. "Let me," he murmured, nuzzling her ear. She shivered at the feel of his hands on her shoulders. His hands slipped down to her waist and she swiveled in his arms, smiling up at him. "Sleep well?" He asked.

"Mmm-huh. You?"

"Mmm," he replied, dipping his head to kiss her. "Somehow waking up is even better though."

She arched an eyebrow at him playfully. "Really?"

He nodded and then made her shriek by picking her up and carrying her into the shower. The hot water hit both of them, drenching them, though neither noticed it too much as they renewed their previous night's exploration of each other's bodies.

Jordan ended up being late to Garret's morning meeting, but his stern gaze didn't faze her one bit.

XXXXX

Jordan juggled the case files she'd taken home as she strode down the hallway to her office.

"Give you a hand, luv?" Nigel offered. He grinned at her. "Or a hair dryer?"

"Nige!"

He followed her into her office. "Come on, Jordan, you can tell Uncle Nigel why you were late and your hair's still wet."

She glared at him. "When am I ever on time to meetings?"

"Well, there is that," the Brit conceded. "And your hair?"

She shrugged. "What about it? I - I didn't have time to dry it."

Nigel grinned at her. "Or to make sure the buttons on your blouse matched up?"

Jordan glanced down, her face going nearly as red as her top. "They're just fine!"

"And yet you checked." Nigel clearly wasn't buying her innocent act. "So, things are steadily improving with Woodrow?"

Deciding that he might stop if she ignored this line of questioning, she shifted gears. "I figured out the Model Killer's M.O."

That got Nigel's attention. "Yeah?"

"Yep."

"Well?"

She took out her notes as Nigel came around the desk to read over her shoulder. He scanned what she'd written, whistling when he came to the end. "By God, Jordan, it makes perfect sense… well, totally bizarre sense, but you know what I mean."

"Nige, this has got to be it. The M.O.'s all fit!"

"Did you by any chance figure out the connection they all share?"

She glowered at him. "No. But we're closer." She looked at him. "We're going to find this lunatic before September."

XXXXX

"Hey, Jordan, I was about to go get some lunch. Wanna come?" Lily looked so hopeful that Jordan couldn't decline. It was the twenty-ninth – they had two more days before the clock started ticking for the Calendar Girl Killer's next victim, but Jordan had to admit that, besides Lily's obvious need to talk about something, she herself needed a break. The two had just left the morgue when Jordan's cell rang. She answered it, listened for a moment and then clapped the phone shut. She touched Lily's arm. "Sorry, I've got to go."

"But-"

"That was Woody." Jordan's eyes glowed. "He found the connection between all the Calendar Girl victims."

END Part Twelve