Passes out the pumpkin shaped cookies to traceyh, Sweet-rush37, Agel15, whalersfan and Sammy for their reviews. Thank you thank you thank you! I appreciate your reviews and support so much!!!

Thanks for stopping by and I hope you enjoy Chapter 13.

Disclaimer: I still do not own Crossing Jordan. But maybe if I win the lottery I can buy it. LOL

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Back at the office I went straight to find Nigel. He was in the break room fixing himself a cup of coffee.

"Jordan!" he exclaimed when he saw me. "Did you find her?"

"Yeah, I did. Thanks Nigel," I said.

"What happened?" he asked.

I told him. When I was finished he was shaking his head. "If you hadn't thought to find her..."

"And if you hadn't found her when you did who knows what would have happened," I said.

"So now what?" he asked.

I shrugged. "After they get a sketch I guess they'll start running it through the databases, see if they can get anything."

"Well, if you need anything else..." he said.

"Thanks Nige. I owe ya big," I said. "I'll have to buy you a drink."

"Or two," Nigel said with a broad grin.

"Yeah, or two," I said with a laugh.

I left Nigel in the break room and headed back to my office. I stopped to tell Garrett and Bug, who were in the middle of an autopsy. They were glad I had found her, and I could see concern in their eyes when they looked at me. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate their concern, but when would they realize I could take care of myself?

I went back to my office and started sifting through paperwork. I couldn't really do much more until I heard from Woody, so I attempted to finish out some reports and resigned myself to staying in my office until something came up.

X

Hours later I was still in my office, munching on potato chips, when there was a rap at my door. I looked up and saw Woody.

"Hey, Woody, come in," I said.

He came in and sat in a chair across from me, reaching over to eat a chip out of the bag on my desk. "I'm starved," he commented.

"Help yourself," I said, motioning to the chips.

"Thanks," he said and took a handful.

Through a mouthful of chips he told me what they had learned.

There was no John Newman that had gone to Burke High. There was no reunion committee working on the reunion for my class. No one from the school had sent anyone to take pictures of alum's from my class.

"That doesn't surprise me," I said.

"No, me either," Woody said. He pulled a piece of paper from a folder he was carrying and handed it to me.

It was the sketch of 'John Newman'. I studied it and then looked up at Woody, disappointed. "This could be anyone," I said, shaking my head.

"Yeah, I know," he said wryly. "Unfortunately Miss Williams didn't pay much attention to his face. She described his clothes in great detail, but she was not very clear on his face.

The picture showed a guy that could have easily been in his early twenties or early forties. He had short tidy hair, brown she had said. Brown eyes, wire rimmed glasses and a goatee. Average looking, the kind of guy you pass on the street and don't even give a second glance to.

"She said he was tall, probably six feet, and kind of heavy around his stomach."

"Great. Like that couldn't describe any one of a million men in Boston. How about his age?"

Woody shrugged. "Maybe in his late thirties."

I sighed. "Well, it's something, anyway."

"Nathan Shoemaker said that his wife mentioned her high school reunion the day before he left town. He said he didn't know what brought it up and she didn't say anything else about it."

"So he might have gone to see her, too," I mused.

"Possibly. We talked to the neighbors, no one saw this man."

"Which doesn't mean that he wasn't there," I pointed out.

"Nope," Woody replied.

"Well, let me know if you find anything else," I said.

"Yeah, I will. I need to ask you, though; do you have any other high school friends that could be a target?"

I shook my head. "Not that I can think of. Those five were the ones I hung out with. Anyone else would just be an acquaintance, which could be half of the school."

Woody sighed. "Well, if you think of anything else, like anyone who might have a grudge against you, let me know."

"I will, but I've thought about it and I can't think of anything."

"Alright," he said. There was a pause and then he looked at me. "Hey, you want to go get a drink?"

I looked at the clock on my wall. It was later than I had thought. I looked at Woody, who was watching me carefully. Suddenly getting out of the office sounded great, and spending some time with Woody sounded even better.

"Sure, sounds good," I said and Woody grinned.

"Great!" he said. "To the Pogue?"

"Yeah, my Dad'll want to see you," I said.

"Oh, why's that?" Woody asked, looking surprised.

"He thinks you're nice for some reason," I said. "I keep telling him that he just doesn't know you."

Woody laughed "Gee, thanks Jordan."

"Anytime, Wood," I said with a grin, enjoying the lack of tension.

I picked up my jacket and followed Woody to the elevator. We passed Nigel, who raised an eyebrow at me, but said nothing.

We got to the Pogue and went inside. The warmth of the bar was a welcome relief from the crisp night air.

Dad was at the bar when we walked in. His face broke into a grin when he saw Woody.

"Detective Hoyt," Dad said as we settled down at the bar.

"Mr. Cavanaugh," Woody said with a smile, shaking my dad's hand.

"What can I get ya?" Dad asked.

"I'll have a Bud," Woody said. Dad poured his drink and handed it to him then handed me a Guinness.

"Thanks, Dad," I said.

"Sure thing, Jordan," he said. "How are things going with that Burke High case?"

Woody took a drink. "We're making a little headway," he said and filled my dad in on the case.

"Jordan, I really think you should stay with me for a while," Dad said when Woody was finished.

"I'm fine, Dad," I said. "There's a cop babysitting me outside my apartment."

"Still, I'd feel better if you'd stay with me."

"I'm fine," I said firmly, closing the subject.

Dad shook his head and turned to help a couple that had just walked up.

Woody opened his mouth and I shook my head vehemently. "I don't want to hear it," I said.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay."

There was an awkward silence and we drank our drinks, each lost in our own thoughts.

X

The next week went by peacefully enough. I got used to the cop outside my apartment and nothing more happened. Woody was busy with multiple cases and I didn't hear much from him. There were no new leads on the killer and I started wondering if we had heard the last from the Burke High Killer.

Woody and I met for drinks a couple of times after work, easing back into our familiar comfortableness. We didn't talk about us or relationships or expectations and things floated along like they always had.

Andrew continued to call me but I was swamped at work and it seemed I never had time to get together with him. I wasn't sure how I felt about him. He was always polite on the phone when I turned him down, but I kept getting the feeling that he was waiting for something and I had no idea what.

The weekend rolled around and Andrew called to ask me out for a drink Saturday night. I didn't have any plans so I agreed, and Andrew suggested he pick me up and go to the Pogue.

"Jordan, it's so good to see you," he said when I met him at the street. He gave me a quick hug and we climbed onto his motorcycle and he drove us to the Pogue.

"Haven't seen you for awhile," Andrew said as we slid into a booth.

"Yeah," I said. "I've just been swamped at work."

"I understand that," he said. His long hair was loose, falling to his shoulders, and I thought once again that he was really an attractive guy.

"So how have you been, Jordan?" he asked.

"Good, thanks. And you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. How have you been handling your friend's deaths?" he asked, his blue eyes solemn, worried.

I sighed. "I've been okay." I said. I had attended the funerals for three of my friends. They had been horrible experiences. Darcie had been at them, too. The only one we hadn't gone to was Andrea's, because her parents had had her buried in Montana where they lived now.

But I didn't want to talk about that, didn't want to talk about Shannon's husband, holding their baby boy and sobbing, I didn't want to think about sixteen year-old Eliza Smith, crying on her dad's shoulder. I didn't want to think of Shannon's mother staring blankly at her only daughter's casket.

"Well, if you ever need to talk, I'm here," Andrew said with a supportive smile.

"Thanks, Andrew," I said.

We sat and drank in comfortable silence. We played pool and I lost again. We had just sat back down to finish our drinks when I heard my name.

I looked up and saw Woody standing next to the table where Andrew and I were sitting. My heart fell into my stomach when I saw the look on his face. He was suspicious and angry, but underlying all of that, I could see that he was hurt.

"Woody!" I said, giving him what I knew had to be a deer in the headlights look.

"Hey Jordan," he said casually with a tight smile. "How are ya?"

"Fine," I said, wondering just what game he was playing. "How are you?"

"Oh, you know. I'm doin' just great," he said. "Who's your friend?"

I scowled at him. "This is Andrew Lloyd, Andrew, this is Detective Hoyt with the Boston PD. He and I work on a lot of cases together."

It was Woody's turn to scowl at me.

Andrew didn't seem to notice anything and shook Woody's hand. "Hey, nice to meet you," he said with a smile.

Woody looked at him and froze. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Nice to meet you too. Andrew, was it?"

"Yes, Andrew Lloyd."

"Oh yeah," Woody said, sounding like he'd just remembered something. "You're the accountant Jordan was telling me about, right?"

Andrew looked pleased. "That's right."

"Huh. Well, I have to get going. Got bad guys to catch you know," Woody said with a definitely fake sounding laugh.

"Cool," Andrew said. "See ya around."

"Yeah, see ya," Woody said and without a second glance at me he turned and walked out of the Pogue.

My heart was racing but I forced myself to act calm as Andrew turned to me.

"He seems like a nice guy," Andrew said.

"Yeah. He can be," I said.

"You know, Jordan," Andrew said after a little pause. "You've never been to my place."

I sensed dangerous territory and just smiled. "No, I haven't, have I?"

"What do you say we swing by there for a cup of coffee before I take you home?"

I didn't say anything. I wasn't sure that I believed him when he said he wanted to just have a cup of coffee.

Andrew must have sensed my hesitation and he smiled. "I promise, just a cup of coffee, you can see my apartment and I'll take you home."

He was looking at me earnestly and I could see no reason to say no, so I smiled. "Okay, that sounds good."

I'd had a few beers and I was feeling nice and buzzed. I wasn't drunk, just buzzed. I followed Andrew to his motorcycle and climbed on behind him. I had kind of a hard time holding on and ended up hanging onto Andrew for dear life as he steered us to his apartment.

His apartment was in an older part of town in one of the new apartment buildings built in the middle of a historic district. He parked out front and helped me off.

He took my hand and led me into the building and we took the elevator to the eighth floor.

Once inside Andrew took my jacket and showed me to the living room where he told me to take a seat on the couch while he fixed coffee. He disappeared into the kitchen and I looked around the apartment.

It was pretty bare, just the necessary furniture and a few knick-knacks. His coffee table was covered with Sports Illustrated magazines.

Andrew came out of the kitchen carrying a tray with two cups of coffee and sugar. He set it down and sat on the couch next to me. I started fixing my coffee when Andrew put his hand on my leg. I glanced down. He moved his hand lightly up my thigh and, uncomfortable, I moved my leg over, away from him. He froze, his hand still resting lightly on my leg. He pulled his hand away and I saw a flash of anger in his eyes before he smiled easily. "I forgot the cream. I'll be right back," he said.

He gave me another unreadable look and I felt my scalp prickle uncomfortably like it always does when something is not right.

Right then my cell phone rang.

I stood up and grabbed my phone out of my coat pocket and flipped it open.

"Cavanaugh," I said.

"Jordan, it's Woody. Don't say anything, just listen. After I saw you and that guy at the Pogue I went back to the precinct. Something about him just didn't seem right. I ran his name through the Boston Accountant Register and didn't get any hits. So I ran it through the national database, and there is no Andrew Lloyd that has ever registered as a CPA. So I ran the name and found no matches in the age range of this guy. So I went to Dave and had him doctor Miss Williams' sketch. Jordan, that's our guy. When he put the long hair and took off the goatee it was unmistakable. It's him."

((sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger like that, but I had to split up the chapter....hehe...))

((please review and let me know what you think!))