They hit the ground running the next morning, and for Jordan, it was relief. There was little time to think about the mess her love life had become in the last 24 hours. She and JD just had time to dress and get to court before opening statements.
There was a last minute prep with the second chair prosecutor as they sat in the hallway before the judge convened court. She nodded in passing as Woody came into the courthouse. He looked away quickly and hurried past her.
She found her seat next to JD in the gallery and waited for the lead prosecutor to begin. She had been through this hundreds of times, testified at countless murder trials, but she always found herself riveted. Her heart raced as the lead prosecutor began her opening. She was a protogee of Walcott's, and she seemed a slightly younger blonde version of the DA.
She was absolutely in control with her cool demeanor and patrician bearing. The jury hung on her every word. That was a good sign. The defense attorney next. Jordan knew him well. He was a typical defense attorney, trying to project an eccentric persona with his salt-and-pepper hair pulled back into a ponytail, but he was a shark in a shabby suit.
"The prosecution calls Detective Woody Hoyt."
Jordan's eyes cut over to where Woody was sitting. He rose and buttoned his suit coat. She knew he, too, had done this countless times, but his face had gone ashen and he seemed slightly uneasy as he made his way to the witness stand to be sworn in. She supposed that even the most seasoned detectives sometimes got stage fright.
He was unusually quiet and had to be asked by the judge to speak up on several occasions. Jordan frowned. Something was wrong. This wasn't like Woody. Under the fluorescent lights, she could see beads of sweat had popped out on his forehead.
"And then what did you see, Detective Hoyt?"
Woody looked up and blinked as if he hadn't heard. "I'm sorry?"
"I asked you what you saw next, detective," the ADA asked with a trace of annoyance in her voice.
"I...entered the diner." Jordan watched as he blotted at his face with the back of his sleeve.
"What did you see?"
He looked over at a blank wall as if picturing the scene there. "I saw...Officer Kelly."
"I'm sorry, I don't think the jury heard that, Det. Hoyt."
"Do you need a drink of water?" the judge asked. Woody nodded and poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the witness stand. His hands were shaking.
"How would you describe the state was in?"
He cut his glance over to the prosecutor. His face was twisted into a bitter smile. "He was dying. In a pool of his own blood."
"Objection. Calls for a conclusion," the defense attorney interjected.
"Well, he wasn't dying in a pool of someone else's blood, that's for sure," Woody spat before the judge had an opportunity to rule.
"Overruled. That's enough, detective."
The ADA pursed her lips and shot him a hard look. "Did Officer Kelly say anything to you?"
Woody's head fell. Jordan leaned forward on her bench. Something was wrong. He looked up again, and his face was a stony mask. "He said he was dying. He said for me to call his fiancee. He wanted to talk to her before he died." Woody looked over at the defendant. "He was supposed to get married the next week."
The defendant only shrugged and slouched down in his seat.
Woody gripped the front of the stand. "Are you smiling? What are you smiling at?"
"Your Honor, please direct the witness not to address my client!" The defense attorney rose to his feet.
"A cop is dead because of you!" Woody went on. He raised his finger accusingly. "Wipe that smile off your face, you son of a bitch."
"Order! Order!" The judge lowered his gavel.
"Detective! That's enough!"
"Wipe that smile off your face!" Woody had risen in his seat. His voice boiled over with rage.
"Sit down immediately, detective, or I'll hold you in contempt!"
"Your Honor! The defense requests a recess!"
"Granted! Bailiffs, please clear the courtroom! We'll re-convene tomorrow morning at 8AM. Counsel, in my chambers. Now."
One of the bailiffs put a restraining hand on Woody's arm as the jury dutifully filed out of the courtroom. There was a flurry of activity. The defendant was led away as Woody stared him down threateningly.
Onlookers milled around in confusion. Jordan watched as the prosecutor blocked Woody's path as he tried to skulk out of the courtroom.
"If I were the judge and the defense asked for a mistrial right now, I'd grant it!" she hissed and then stormed past into the judge's chambers.
Woody stood looking miserable and lost. Jordan rose from the bench and made an instinctive move toward him. She felt J.D. clap his hand on her wrist. "Leave it alone, Jordan. He's not your concern anymore."
She watched him there, standing still amid the whirl around him. J.D. still had her arm as she stumbled behind him through the doors and outside into the cold air.
XXXXXXX
She was distracted for the rest of the evening. There was an unspoken understanding, she knew, between her and J.D. She would not mention Woody. A storm was threatening, so they ate in the hotel's restaurant, a typically loud sports bar and grill. They were mostly silent, talking about this or that, but she couldn't help but worry about Woody.
Each time someone would breeze into the restaurant, she would crane her neck to see, hoping it would be him. When it wasn't, she would drop her head back down to her plate, but she could see Pollack was looking at her disapprovingly.
She feigned exhaustion once again as they turned in for bed. He seemed to accept that, and she curled in next to him with his arms around her. She supposed she should feel safe and secure, but she only felt smothered.
After he had drifted off, she slipped out of bed and dressed hurriedly. Sleep would elude her, anyway, until she knew Woody was all right. She tiptoed across the hall to his room, but there was no answer.
She would find him. It was what she would do for any friend in need, she told herself. She waited impatiently for the elevator and then hurried through the lobby past the bored night desk clerk.
He was there, in the emptied bar at one of the chairs next to the window. It had been to softly snow, and he sat with his face turned towards the glass.
She crossed quietly and stood at the table next to him. He said nothing.
"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.
"I'm fine, Jordan. Go back to Pollack."
She stood for a moment. "Woody, I..."
"Go, Jordan. Just go."
She hesitated. His face was resolute. She backed away and turned toward the door. When he spoke, his voice was small and broken.
"He died in my arms. Officer Kelly."
She turned and knelt down beside him. "I know."
"I didn't understand, then. There was a part of me, even though it happened to my dad, too, I thought he should've been more careful. If he'd just been paying better attention, it wouldn't have happened. He could have gotten the bastard before the bastard got him. Then it happened to me, Jordan."
She reached out for his hand in silent understanding.
"And then I saw Spalding die. He died in my arms, with that look on his face. The look that says you know you're dying, and you're never going to see your kid graduate from high school, and you're never going to walk your daughter down the aisle. All of a sudden, I knew...that could've been me. Why wasn't it me? It was all I could do to keep it together then. And when I saw that punk in court today with that smirk on his face...I lost it." He had begun to cry as softly and silently as the snow outside.
She reached up and took his face in her hands.
"You're all right, Woody. You're safe," she said gently.
He looked down at her, her face shining with compassion, soft tears reflecting his own. He reached up and stroked her face with his fingertips. Her heart raced, knowing instinctively what the next moment would hold.
As if that moment at the party was replaying itself, he leaned in, his lips parted slightly. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she could feel him inch ever closer.
And then there was a flicker of a shadow, the sense of motion in the room. Her eyes snapped open, and they both froze, framing the other's face in hands.
It was Pollack, standing in the door to the restaurant. He turned quickly on his heel and headed back for the elevator.
She was immobile for a moment. Woody's hands finally dropped, and she scrambled to her feet.
"Pollack, wait!" she called after him.
She could see Woody's reflection in the long glass window by the bar. He sat with his hands between his knees and his head hung in despair.