Jordan went to the only place that felt like home to her; the morgue. She knew no one would be there but that was part of the reason she went. There was something oddly comforting about being alone in a dark building by yourself with nothing but dead bodies to keep you company. Strange as she knew it was, it didn't stop her. She took the elevator up and walked into the lobby, only to find that she was wrong. She was not alone, no that she was not. Sitting on a plastic chair with a his head and hands in his lap, was a man.
"Excuse me sir can I help you?" she asked. He looked up from his lap and into her eyes. A grin broke out on his face but Jordan noticed that it wasn't a 'happy to meet you" kind a grin. It was more of a 'glad we finally meet I know all about you but you knowing nothing about me' stalker grin.
The shadows played menacingly across his face, throwing into sharp relief his gruesome features. It was marked with scars from an abusive past and one of his cheeks was burned dead. A large chunk of his nose was missing and one of his eyes was lopsided and contiued to stare partially at his nose. Jordan couldn't help but gasp.
"I wasn't expecting anyone until morning tomorrow," he said. His voice was thick was age and Jordan could hear the damage years of smoking had done to his lungs.
"Can I help you with something?" she asked, pushing the fear out of her voice and taking a step towards him. He got up from her chair and Jordan noticed that he was trying to conceal something bulky under his windbreaker.
"Follow me," he said with a smirk. Walking towards the 'Staff Only' doors, Jordan interupted.
"Uh you can't go in there. It's staff only," she said.
"Ummm ... actually I am," he said turning around to face Jordan and ripping open his jacket. Jordan's jaw fell open at the sight of a bomb with enough ammo to blow up three highrises strapped to his chest. "Come doctor ... I'm sorry I didn't catch your name," he said like one commenting on the weather.
"Cavanaugh. Jordan Cavanaugh," she said, snapping out of her stupor and following his retreating back through the doors. She thought about turning and running while he wasn't looking but his voice inturupted her thoughts.
"Don't even think about it Jordan," he said without turning around. He pulled a gun from his pants pocket and turned around to look at her. "Ladies first."
XXXXXXXXXXBefore Jordan knew it night was over. She had spent the remaining eight hours of darkness in the crypt, sitting on a table while the man sat and stared at her. He had allowed her one phone call and she was allowed to tell whoever she called anything she wanted. Not understanding the man and what he was up to, Jordan didn't complain but grabbed her phone he had taken away from her and thought about who to call.
'My cellphone will be on all night if you need me. Call anytime,' Garret's words rang through her head. Thinking that Woody would probably care less that she was being held hostage by a man with a gun and thirty pounds of gunpowder, she called Garret. Naturally he had called the SWAT team, hostage negotiation and the Boston PD and before Jordan could say boo half the city of Boston was parked outside the morgue. Woody included. Not a second of the day went by when he turned his police radio off and he had heard the call about a hostage being held at the morgue with a suicide bomber.
With Lu gone he had been free to call Jordan, her home and her cell, neither of which she had answered. The familair feeling of panic settling on his chest, Woody drove, hell-bent, down to the morgue. He spotted Garret on the other side of the safety tape and ran towards him, stopped momentarily by security. But he had been let through with a quick flash of his badge and approached Garret.
"Where's Jordan? Please tell me she's not in there!" Woody said, geustering franticly to the building above them.
Garret looked at him with a stony face. "I'm sorry," was all he could manage. Woody felt his heart sink to his knees and he remembered the last time he talked to her, the last thing he ever said to her. Never would he forget the look of complete and utter heartbreak in her eyes and on her face.
"Have they been able to make contact?" Woody asked, desperate for some way to tell Jordan that he was an idiot and to hold her in his arms.
"They're calling him as we speak," Garret said.
Woody watched as the phone beside him rang and the hostage negotiator picked it up.
"Ben. What can we do to make you let Miss Cavanaugh go?" he asked. His voice was calm and relaxed and it took all the Woody had not to punch him for his lack of concern.
"I don't want anything," the man answered back. They only knew his name because there was a warrent out for his arrest and an officer had tracked him down.
"Well then how is Miss Cavanaugh going to get out of that building?" he asked.
"She's not. Although she does look rather lonely up here with only me for company. Hold on one second," Ben Nashal said. He pressed the speakerphone button and told the negotiator to do the same. A confused expression crossed his face but he obliged. Woody and Garret were both listening with all they had for any sign of life from Jordan.
"Who's there that Jordan here knows well?" Ben asked with a hint of a smile in his tone.
The negotiator looked around and Woody and Garret raised their hands. "Garret Macy and Woody Hoyt," the negotaitor answered.
Jordan's heart skipped a beat as she heard Woody's name. "Who'll it be babe?" he turned and asked her. "Which one do you want to spend your dying moments with and spill out your hearts desires?" he asked with sarcasism and laughed.
Woody held his breath as they waited for her reply. This would be his chance to reconsile with Jordan. If she choose him.
"Garret Macy."