"Where's Sabrina?" Jordan mumbled sleepily.

Lucy was examining the bullet wound left over from two days before. There were red lines beginning to form around the wound, and the skin had begun to peel away whenever the bandages were changed. Jordan was showing the first tell tale signs of infection, in another day or so she could have blood poisoning. Without treatment, she would die a painful death by the end of the week. As a doctor Jordan knew it was inevitable, and had kept such things to herself. Her arrival had brought new hope to the girls, and she wasn't about to take it away from them. Woody would come, she knew he would. Even if her rescue became a body retrieval, he would find her.

She shuddered to think of what it would do to him to find her body in the same state as Katrina. What such a thing would do to Garret, to Lily, and to the rest of the morgue who had been her family for the past five years. She would be sent to the morgue for examination and to determine the cause of death. Jordan pictured Nigel unzipping the body bag, bagging her clothes and prepping her for autopsy. She would be a corpse in her own crypt. The ME pictured herself being rolled out of a freezer while laying on a metal slab, half rotted and picked at by rats, a toe tag dangling precariously from her left foot. Her body would be cut to pieces, her organs weighed and measured. There would be a tox report, blood work ups, and every test that could be done under the sun would be administered to her body. Jordan fought the urge to cry at that moment. She couldn't let that happen to herself just yet. She couldn't die in this place; there was still time for someone to find her. There was still time for her to forge an escape. Something could and would be done.

"Where is she?" Jordan repeated more clearly this time.

She could hear Lucy shuffling behind her, probably considering how to answer her question.

"He came this morning and took her. They've been gone for hours."

"Hours?" Jordan looked back at Lucy, meeting the girl's hollowed features with questioning eyes. "How long have I been sleeping?"

In the corner of the room, Jenna was untangling Samantha's hair with her fingers. Samantha was quiet while the older girl fixed her hair. Her doleful eyes held a faraway look about them, like she was in another place and time. It was her way, Jordan thought to herself, of pretending that everything was just a bad dream. Jordan had learned from experience that if you kept yourself disconnected from reality for long enough, sometimes it could be impossible to come back. It was a dangerous way to live, but under these circumstances it was probably the only way the girl could cope. She was surviving simply by ignoring her surroundings.

"Since yesterday. You're fever broke about an hour ago." Lucy answered softly.

Jordan squeezed her eyes shut and then reopened them. Her head was still aching and her shoulder burned with pain at every move she made.

"We're going to get out of here you know." Jordan told her assuredly.

Jenna shook her head, "Don't say that. The others before you, they thought the same thing and look where it got them."

"I mean it." Jordan said coldly. "You will get out of here, we'll find a way."

Samantha's eyes flickered for a fleeting moment in her direction. The corners of Jordan's lips twitched as she noticed the slight and sudden change in Samantha's demeanor. There was still some hope left in the girl after all.

Woody had been avoiding JD's demands for over a day. Garret had tried to tell the journalist that Jordan had simply taken a vacation. Which probably would have worked, save for the fact that JD had tried to visit Jordan's apartment earlier in the day and had exchanged words with a certain guard that had been posted outside of her apartment door. After pulling some strings and paying the right people JD had learned the true nature of both the morgue and detective Hoyt's avoidance. Now the two were in the conference room of the morgue, which coincidentally stood directly across the hall from Jordan's vacant office. The door had been closed and the blinds had been drawn. Nigel and the others were in the lab, reviewing the newly upturned evidence in the case. Woody would have been in there ten minutes before had it not been for JD's impossible demands to meet with the detective in private.

"Hoyt, I'm not going to ask you again." JD hissed, eyes ablaze as he stood nose to nose with the detective. "I want to know everything you know or I swear I'll go to the press with this. I'll drag your name through the mud and back again until you tell me exactly what's going on here."

"Are you trying to blackmail me JD?" Woody asked, his tone encased with calmness that he didn't feel.

"Absolutely." JD answered.

"First of all, you've already tried to ruin my reputation once before. If you want to do it again, go for it. Second of all, if you go to the press with anything you've learned you'll be jeopardizing the only chance we have at finding Jordan. You'll be putting her life on the line just so you can get back at me."

"How so? If everyone knows she's missing than may be there'll be people out looking for her instead of staying locked inside a morgue for three days with their thumbs up their asses, ey mate?" JD stepped back and turned away from the detective. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away the onset of another burst of anger.

"We're doing everything we can. I can't release any details to you. You aren't family and you aren't a spouse. You're just another guy, just another journalist, to keep away from this case." Woody was walking on thin ice without a life jacket, and he didn't even care. "If you come anywhere near this morgue, or if you go back to her apartment again I will have you arrested."

"Oh yeah? On what grounds?" The aussie asked snidely.

"For interrupting an investigation, may be something worse. I don't know and I don't care. Get the hell away from this place, or else."

"Now, now, detective," JD sneered, eyes glinting, "You ought to be careful. Sounds to me like you're the one who's threatening now."

"Get out." Woody said coldly. "If I find anything that I think you should know about, I'll tell you."

"Tell me something I haven't heard yet."

Woody paused, "If I tell you anything you can not go to the press. You can not print anything until I say it's ok."

"Fine, whatever mate."

Woody hesitated, carefully considering how much to reveal to the distressed Australian who did nothing more for the detective than cause even more headaches. "There's been a positive DNA match. We have a suspect."

"In custody?"

"No. We haven't tracked him down yet. There's no known address and no record of his where-abouts. As far as we can tell he hasn't even worked since he fell off the face of the earth ten years ago."

"What happened ten years ago?"

"His wife divorced him with their three daughters. He fought for custody on more than one occasion. He was able to get the oldest daughter back, but she died in his custody from an accidental OD. After that things get a little sketchy."

"How so?" JD asked, finally calming down since he was getting some answers.

Woody answered quickly, he was going to end this conversation and get back to the lab. He had to tie up the rest of these loose ends.

"He had a nervous breakdown, self-admitted to a psychiatric ward and then checked out a year later."

"So the guy's a loon?" JD shook his head, "Well that's just great."

Woody didn't say anything; he unbuttoned his sleeves and began rolling them to his elbows. Enough chitchat, he had to get back to that lab. He had his hand on the doorknob when JD interrupted his leave once more, but it wasn't a retort that met the detective. It was a thank you.

"I appreciate this mate." JD said steadily. "Thank you for filling me in."

"Sure." Woody's jaw tightened. God, how he hated that man.

"You know, it is just a job."

"What?" Woody looked back over his shoulder at the journalist who had since stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"What I do. It's just a job." He shook his head again and shrugged, "It's just what I do. You know? And for what it's worth, I'm sorry I wrote that article about you when you were doing the murdered cop case."

Woody didn't say anything. What the hell was he supposed to say?

"Jordan, she was pretty pissed off when she found it." JD cracked a sad smile at the memory. "Thought she was going to tear my bloody head off."

"Sure she was." Woody muttered.

"I'm serious mate, she said I did it because I was jealous or something."

Well now that was an amusing thought. Woody couldn't deny the fact that his interest was now officially perked.

"Of what?" Woody asked coldly. There was nothing between he and Jordan that he was aware of, to be jealous of.

"I don't know," JD shrugged and laughed lightly. "She's the one who said it."

A silence passed between them.

"Just bring her home Woody." JD said quietly.

Woody softened at the other mans plea. In just a few minutes the journalist had managed to threaten blackmail, to expose the case, had admitted an apology, and was now asking for help. His change in moods lay equally parallel to Jordan's change of mind. Perhaps they were a better fit than the detective would have liked to admit.

"I will." Woody promised. He offered a nod in farewell before leaving the conference room to rejoin Nigel in trace. The conversation that had taken place between he and the journalist would be in the back of his mind for the next few days.