AN: I'm glad you all think it's exciting, but trust me, this chapter is better… Sorry for my infinity of beating up Jordan, it's actually fun, like a stress reliever, you should try it… lol … Anyway, on with the chapter, I really hope you guys like this one as much as you enjoyed the last one! Btw, thank you for all your lovely comments, I really appreciate every single one of them!

Forget About the Dirty Looks

"Will you love, honour and keep her for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health?" The second man continued.

"I do," Angler said with a hint of sweetness in his voice.

Jordan struggled to free herself from his grip but it was no use, "Now, dear, you wouldn't want me to blacken your pretty little face on our wedding day would you?"

"Our—"

"And do you, Jordan Cavanaugh, take this man, Jarvis Angler, to be your lawfully wedded husband for richer—"

"I sure as hell don't!"

"You know she does, just skip that part."

"The rings then?" The white collared man said.

"Yes, I think the rings will do," Out of his sweaty fist, he revealed a strange looking device, which he wrestled onto Jordan's finger. It was made of a malleable material, which slipped onto her ring finger, a wire attached to a larger ring, which wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet and locked in place. It was decorated with white and yellow gold. "With this ring, I thee wed," he sneered, placing a gold band on his own finger. Jordan spat at him, trying to rip the device off her hand, "trust me dear, that won't help." He reached into his pocket and suddenly it felt as if her hand were on fire. She shrieked in pain and frantically tried to break free.

"Stop screaming Jordan," he said calmly.

She settled uneasily, whimpering in pain. The sensation stopped immediately.

"Now we can continue."

"By the power vested in me, in this state of Vermont, I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride," the man continued amusedly, as if he did not realize what was going on and how odd this situation was.

"Vermont?" Jordan exclaimed confused. They had to have driven hours to get to Vermont.

Jordan watched through her veil as Angler approached her, puckering his lips. She felt sick and tried to limp away from him. He gently lifted the veil and it dropped to the soft ground. She backed into a tree desperately attempting to get away. He reached into his pocket again and like a timid mouse, she froze. He grinned evilly, coming closer to her. She could smell his fetid breath and she wretched. He forced himself upon her, crushing her against the tree.

"Now, my bride, we will go home," he grabbed the cast on her left hand and pulled her behind him.

She was furious, but she could do nothing to solve her anger. She felt tired and weak and wanted to lie down. She wanted all of this to go away.

He brought her up a hill to a secluded area where a family sized car was waiting for them. He tried to force her into the backseat but she resisted. He took her by the shoulder and slapped her hard across the face, "Get in the goddamned car!" he demanded. His voice echoed in the silence, Jordan heard scampering in the forest, like a frightened night animal, scurrying away.

"No," she said, taking a chance. She kicked him in the shin and limped away on her cast as quickly as she could carry herself. She stumbled and rolled down the hill, hitting the bottom hard. Her breath knocked out of her; she could hear him coming after her, sliding down the leafy hill. She picked herself up and moved again.

His calls dripped with disdain, "You can't hide from me Jordan, that little ring I gave you has a tracking beacon."

The electric fire sensation shot up her arm again, as if she had cut the circulation from her forearm to her fingertips. She nearly whimpered but she bit her lip and kept moving. However, despite her best efforts he caught up with her quickly, grabbed her by the neck, choking her.

"Do that again, and you'll find you have more broken bones than you can count."

He threw her body to the ground and she gasped defiantly, "I can count pretty high."

He sneered in an amused sort of way and followed her back up the hill, pushing her hard so that she fell on her face. When they returned to the car, her body was bruised; her throat pained her, as did her head. Her hand throbbed.

Before he pushed her into the car, he handed the man who had performed their 'wedding ceremony' a small object and said to Jordan, "I was going to wait until we got to the border to take our honeymoon photos but I suppose this is good too. He reached into his pocket and Jordan screamed in pain and surprise.

"Smile nice for the camera, beautiful," the man said. Tears streamed down her dirt stained cheeks as a bright flash blinded her eyes.

--- --- ---

Woody, Garret and Max made a stop at the morgue to check Nigel's progress at his bidding. Woody had no alternative and Max and Garret were short on ideas.

"Do you even know if he's in Boston anymore?" Max suggested.

"If I knew where he was, Jordan would be with us and not with him."

They walked into the building, which was warm in stark contrast to the chilly night. Woody's cell phone rang, he answered it with an eager yet sharp, "Hoyt!" the person on the line replied, "I've got people on the search for a ten mile radius, they haven't found anything yet." Woody affirmed his understanding and urged him to continue. He flicked the phone shut as they entered Garret's office.

Suddenly, from his hand, Woody's phone alerted him, not of a phone call but of something else. He flipped it open. "A text message?"

"You don't know what a text message is?" Max asked.

Woody shook his head, "No, I know what a text message is, I've just never received one before." Shrugging he pressed 'read'. Sorry you weren't invited, we just couldn't wait. Attached to the simple message was a blurry image of a tear stained and tortured Jordan and Poltski, waving his right hand, a golden ring shining in the bright flash.

Woody recalled the ominous note he had left after the kidnapping and felt sick. He fumbled his cell phone and dropped it, holding the desk to steady himself. Never, in his career as a homicide detective, had he seen something that affected him so.

Garret stooped and picked up the phone, "Oh dear God," he muttered, handing the phone to the eagerly awaiting Max, who seemed to turn a green colour.

"This cannot be serious," said Max, "I don't believe it."

Woody snatched the phone from Max and left the office. Garret and Max hurried after him as he pushed open the door to the forensics lab. "Nigel," he barked, "is this, a doctored image?"

Woody, with shaking hands, passed him the cell phone. Nigel's pale face went as transparent as a ghosts' would. His eyes brimmed with sensitivity. "I don't know, but… No, I don't think so. It is a low quality jpeg image most likely taken with a camera phone. She doesn't look hurt though… Just, just scared," he assured himself. He went to his computer without the enthusiasm he would have on a normal case, a case to which he was not so attached. He downloaded the image onto the computer with a speed that made Woody dizzy. In a Photoshop program, he intensified the small image, making it clearer to see, "What's that on her hand?" Nigel asked.

"The cast?" Woody asked.

"No, you dolt, that!" Max exclaimed, pointing at her right hand, which tried to push away Poltski. A thin wire attached a ring on her finger to a bracelet on her wrist. Nigel squinted, zooming in on that part of the image.

"Have you seen something like it before?" Garret asked.

"I may have heard vaguely about it, in passing maybe. I don't quite remember," Nigel said, "But I know what they are, they're new to the market, relatively unknown."

"What market?"

Nigel blushed slightly, sighing he said, "I think that it's a sex-control device. Masochist and sadists in a master-slave sort of situation mostly use it. This is a hand device but there are all sorts of kinky places you can put them."

"How do you know these things?" Woody asked, slightly disgusted.

"I hang out with an odd bunch, why do you care?"

"Never mind," Max interrupted, "have you found a way to find out where they are?"

"Well, I hadn't until you'd come here with this little piece of evidence. I can trace where the call came from through satellite," he said his tone gaining in excitement.

The three paced the room while Nigel searched for and uploaded the information. The grueling wait took longer than Woody wished. Any moment, he could be torturing Jordan to death, and it would be his fault. His stomached churned in tune with his mind. He went over how Poltski could have eluded him for so long and then snuck up behind him and took the person most precious to him. Woody wondered why; a warning, revenge, was he playing out a sick fantasy? Woody supposed that the true reason was that Poltski was using Jordan to get to him. However, it was no use dwelling on Poltski's character because that would not bring Jordan back. To think, he had just gotten over how he had caused Jordan extreme pain and then landed her in another situation. It was hopeless. He wanted to catch this creep once and for all, knock him down, slap on the cuffs, read him his rights (though he shouldn't have any) and drag him into his cell where he would sit and rot for eternity.

Max could not stand anymore, his knees felt weak. He had not felt like this since his wife had died over twenty years ago. He had been blamed for that murder, there was no chance he would be blamed here, but he would forever hold himself responsible if something horrible befell his daughter and he had not received the opportunity to apologize for being an over protective father. He wanted the best for Jordan, which is all. He figured that he had gone about it the wrong way by forcing his kindness down her throat with a rusty spoon. He sighed, sitting down on a stool near a table. On it were stomach samples in plastic containers. He supposed that his insides looked similar to that, except his were churning around nervously, ready to erupt at any moment.

Garret was angry, his hard expression twisted up on his face. He stomped back and forth in the room, making everybody, but especially Nigel, increasingly nervous. He did not even know with whom he was angry. He supposed Woody would be a first guess, for not being a good enough police officer and for getting her into this whole incident to begin with. If she had not been in that accident with him they would not have gotten as close as they had in the recent weeks and she would probably have been at work. Then again, if she had been working, the odds that she would have gotten herself into trouble were equally as high. His anger moved to Max, he was too overprotective of her, and the minute he let her out of his sight, she was taken, it's his fault for not being a good enough father to his totally independent thirty year old daughter. Try as he might, he could not be angry with Jordan, none of this was her fault, in fact, if there was anybody he blamed more, it was himself. He hated himself for overworking her, which led to her accident, which led to Woody spending too much time with her, which led to this Poltski creep stealing her away from all of them. He needed to stomp but more, he needed a drink.

Nigel felt as if he had been caught in the middle of everything. He wanted to find out where Jordan was; he only wished he were faster at what he did. He worked as diligently as he could, but there was nothing to do but wait until Poltski's cell phone signal was found. He kept busy, fiddling with evidence from the case. They had found some dirt from shoe prints, but the call Woody had made before arriving, proved that he was not where he was before the kidnapping and it was apparent that he was not going back to that place. The responding officers had found it deserted, and a trailer burned to ashes.

Suddenly, a beeping signaled that the telephone had been found. With fumbling fingers, Nigel brought up a window with a map on it. "Here, they're near Derby, Vermont."

Garret's mouth was dry, "The bastard's running to Canada."