As promised, here is the next chapter.

Thank you to everyone who has been reading, and a special thanks to Mexwojo, Bekahkw, 9name, and Hazmatt for your wonderful reviews on everything I've posted the last few weeks.

Enjoy!

Wonderland

Chapter 5

Blood. So much blood. Everywhere. Thunder overhead. The sun is bright. The moon is hiding, the sun shining on the sea. Blue. White. Green. Green greed. Red. Blood. Blood red.

Dry sands. Wet sea. Wet as wet could be. Sand. Sand in my clothes. Clothes in the sea. No birds were flying overhead – there were no birds to fly. No birds. One down. Only one. There are more. Many more.

They are coming for me. They are going to take me. Lock me away. Take my money. Can't let them. Nope. Can't let them. More to kill. Such quantities of sand. Must fix this. If this were only cleared away, it would be grand! Grand!

xXx

Jordan roused early the next morning, still very groggy. A faint throb echoed through her head as she ran a hand through her messy hair. She sighed and sat up in the bed, gently pushing Woody's arms away from her body. He grumbled in protest but simply rolled over as she stood up and made her way to the bathroom.

The reflection that stared back at her from the mirror was a sad one. Dark circles under the eyes, lips pale, pores huge, eyebrows pinched. Jordan turned on the water and splashed some over her face in an attempt to wake up a little more. She didn't want to look at that reflection again. It just seemed to mock her, seemed to take her life and make it worthless. Her hands were chilly as she rubbed them over her eyes and down her cheeks.

She had been getting those migraines since a few weeks before the surgery. Her doctor said they may never go away, and it seemed he was right. That was when he'd prescribed the medication. It was one of the few she could take when she felt a migraine coming on and usually stop the pain in its tracks. Usually. There were other times she spent hours at the toilet, vomiting because she couldn't get the meds into her system fast enough. Last night would have been one of those times if Woody hadn't been there to get them for her. Migraines hurt. A lot.

Woody. He was still sound asleep, a pillow having taken her place in his arms. Jordan leaned against the doorway, content just watching him for a minute. She rarely got to see him so at ease. He looked like the image of Wisconsin innocence; no one would have been able to guess, seeing him like that, how difficult and frustrating his life could be. Suddenly wanting to be close to him again, she padded across the room and slid back into the bed.

"Woody," she whispered, nudging the pillow out of his grasp and stretching out beside him. He muttered something unintelligible and turned his head away from her. She stared at him, torn between letting him sleep and waking him up. After a moment, she chose the former and pulled herself out of the bed again, grabbing a robe from a nearby chair. They would have plenty of time together later.

Soft light filtered in through the large windows, and she could just see the rocky shore of the inlet at the end of the private boardwalk. The sea looked to be peaceful, but she could imagine it slapping the rocks violently as the waves came in. For a fleeting moment, she considered running down into the surf with the wish that it would carry her away. Figuratively and literally. But the thought was gone almost as soon as it came, leaving her quite baffled. She wasn't suicidal. She just wasn't.

Before her emotions could get the best of her, Jordan left the room and went downstairs to the kitchen. She chuckled to herself when she saw the contents of her purse scattered over the large table, adding to the disarray of papers still taking residence on the wooden surface. Woody had done her good last night, but he sure made a mess of it. She tugged her robe tightly around herself as she pulled out the coffee they had bought the day before and set about putting it in the coffee maker.

As she waited for the drink to brew, she sat down heavily at the table. Without really thinking about it, she gathered up the items from her purse and put them back in the bag, which had fallen to the floor at some point. The faint throbbing in her head slowly began to increase as she did so. Hangover. From a migraine, she thought bitterly, almost giving up on putting things away and then stubbornly refusing to do so. Just lovely.

The coffee maker started to beep at her impatiently, pulling her out of her thoughts. She tossed her purse, now refilled with its previous contents, back to the floor and shuffled over to the counter to pour herself a cup. As she reclaimed her chair at the kitchen table, one of the papers caught her attention. It was a transcript of the interview Woody'd had with Holly Whitaker the day before. Interested, she picked it up and skimmed it over.

"I don't know anyone who would want to hurt him!" she had said. "He was such a wonderful man. Had the soul of an angel. What am I going to do without him?"

Jordan remembered Holly's tortured screams when they had first found her on the front stoop of their borrowed townhome. Those sounds had sent chills through her body, and she couldn't help but feel for the poor woman. Finding the person you loved more than anything in the world, dead in your own home…it was awful. And Jordan knew that from experience.

This case really wasn't much different than any of the others she and Woody worked on back in Boston; they'd have it closed in another day or two. All they needed were a few more pieces to the puzzle, that was all. A lot of murderers used sedatives to knock out their victims before actually applying any kind violent force. In this case, it probably meant this killer was smaller in stature than Paul Whitaker, and had less physical strength than him. The brutality of the stab wounds Jordan had seen on his body were most likely indicative of anger, and anger like that could come from anyone of anystature. A coworker, maybe? Whitaker was a lawyer; maybe he'd run afoul of the wrong client.

Jordan sipped at her coffee, her eyes roaming over the other papers scattered about the tabletop. Her thoughts were beginning to wander. It was getting harder and harder for her to concentrate, but she couldn't quite figure out why. She rolled her eyes and all but slammed her cup down on the table, frustrated beyond belief. The shrill ringing of her cell phone suddenly cut through the still air. Quickly scrambling around for her purse, she pulled it out and flipped it open.

"Hello?"

"Jordan, you're awake!" Nigel's cheerful voice greeted her from the other end. "I was afraid you'd still be sleeping; was going to leave you a message."

"Nope," Jordan stated less than enthusiastically, shaking her head. "I'm up. What's going on, Nige?"

"Just saw the morning news. Seems you and Woody have found another case, yes?"

"It's on the news?" she asked, surprised. "On the news in Boston?"

She could hear the shrug in his voice as he answered. "Well, you are two of our finest. It's a big deal. I mean, there was only a three minute segment, but it was there. Someone must have let it leak out."

"Lovely." Jordan sighed and slumped down in the chair until her head rested on the scalloped back of it. Holly must not be keeping very quiet. "Anything interesting?"

"Not in the segment, no. But you know me! Unable to keep from digging. I found some information on the woman who's keeping you there. Holly Giles-Whitaker?" Nigel paused, but didn't wait for her to say anything before plunging onward. "She's an heiress. Her father owned a private shipping company that was bought out by the national postal service a few years back. He made quite a sum of money – both off his business and off the sale. He died back in 2001 and left everything to his daughter. Over two million, all told."

"That is a lot of money," she mused softly, storing this bit of information away in her brain. Despite the papers scattered over the table, a pen was nowhere to be found. "What about her husband?"

"Not a cent to his name before he married her," he explained. The excitement in his voice made her smile. "He was a lawyer, but it seems he ran afoul of a dirty firm – Dooney & Cliff, I believe – and lost everything in a lawsuit he had no chance of winning. Bad bet, huh?"

"You could say that again."

"But according to the records I was able to find, Mister Whitaker was clean. Worked for Dooney & Cliff for seven years, but he was never on the bad side of the law himself; one of the innocents who was unwittingly pulled in. Every newspaper article I have read so far paints him as a saint. A lot of charity work after he married Holly."

Jordan scoffed. "Who would need to work for money when they can just marry into it?" She peered into her coffee mug, realizing with dawning confusion that she had forgotten to put creamer in it. "Thanks, Nigel, I really appreciate it. The police up here are being less than helpful."

"Any time, love. Let me know if you need me to find anything else for you."

She thanked him again and closed the phone, reaching to put it back in her purse and stopping quickly. Where had she put it? Pursing her lips in annoyance, she dropped the small phone to the table and leaned back again. Her head was still throbbing and unfortunately she had not thought to bring any ibuprofen on what was supposed to be a relaxing trip.

So. An heiress. That would explain Holly's attitude toward the "working class" – and why she had left a sour taste in Jordan's mouth during that first meeting.

She blinked slowly, still pretty tired and unable to keep the train of thought going. She glanced down at her phone again, considering picking it back up and calling her new doctor. But she knew he wouldn't have had time to study the scans or blood work from last week yet. And it was Sunday. He wouldn't even be in the office.

"Mmm, do I smell coffee?"

Jordan started and looked toward the doorway. Woody was standing there, running a hand through his messy hair and watching her. "Yeah, I just brewed some. There are cups in the second cabinet from the left."

"Great." He grinned at her, walking across the kitchen to find a mug. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," she told him honestly, a small smile lighting her face. "Though I may have a bit of a headache today. Hey, could you bring the milk over? I forgot to get some."

Woody poured some milk into his own cup and obligingly set the plastic jug on the table next to her. She immediately reached for it. "Thanks."

"No problem." He pulled out the chair next to hers and sat down, stretching his legs before him. "I heard you on the phone a few minutes ago. Who called? Our dear friend, Officer Stone?"

Jordan chuckled. "Actually, it was Nigel. Our new case was on the news this morning."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I wish." She smirked and took a long drink of coffee. "Nigel did some research for us, though. Turns out Holly is an heiress. Couple million, he said. Her husband was broke when they got married, and never went back to work after he got out of a bad firm. He volunteered with charities instead."

"Mister Do-Good, huh?" Woody looked at all the papers on the table, a frustrated expression coming over his face. "We should have known this yesterday. Details like that are important. Why is Stone so insistent on giving us as little help as possible?"

She just shrugged and picked up Holly's interview transcript again. She had gone to stay with a friend; hopefully they wouldn't need to bring her in again. "We're stepping on his toes. This is his jurisdiction."

"Whatever." Woody sighed and pushed a bunch of folders out of the way so that he could lean his arms against the table. "So, a bad law firm?"

"Yeah. Nigel gave me the name. It was…" Jordan paused, casting her eyes down as she wracked her brain for the information she had been given not ten minutes ago. "It started with a "D". Doug…Danny… Oh, Dooney. Dooney and something."

"Dooney & Cliff? They were busted a few years ago for foul practice. It was all over the news for weeks. They would go to any lengths to win a case. That's certainly interesting."

"What kinds of cases did they take?"

"Anything, so long as it went to trial or had good media coverage. Murders, divorces, whatever they could get their hands on. Lots of different lawyers worked there. This is a good lead. Maybe someone from the firm wanted him dead before he could spill something new."

Jordan was silent, thankful that he hadn't called her out on her faulty memory. She would just have to start writing things down. No big deal. She quickly glanced back up at Woody before he could tell that she was losing her nerve. Something else occurred to her, and she wet her lips. "Holly's maiden name is Giles."

Woody nodded, yawning. "Sounds familiar."

"So." She smiled at him again, trying to push back her growing anxiety as it made the throbbing in her head worse. "What's on the agenda for today?"

"I guess I should look into this firm, huh?"

xXx

"You don't know anything."

"Nope, not a thing." The man, Jeffery Hammond, shook his head and smirked, placing his grasped hands on the cold interview table. He had black hair spotted with grey, and beady brown eyes set back in a wrinkling face. "That was a long time ago, after all."

Woody crossed his arms, smelling the lie a mile away. "Right. Okay. You don't remember this man at all? Paul Whitaker? He worked with you for seven years."

"I didn't know him."

"What department did he work in?"

"I don't know that either. And if you are going to insist on continuing to ask me these questions, I am going to have to call an attorney."

There was a tap on the two-way glass in the far wall. Woody glanced at the man sitting in front of him for a long moment before turning away and leaving the room. Officer Stone was standing there, waiting for him. "Cut him loose. He don't know a thing."

"He's only been in there thirty minutes!" Woody snapped angrily.

"Yeah, and I told you to cut him loose." Stone glared at him. "You may be investigating this case, but you are notin charge."

The detective bit back a scathing remark and spun around to leave the precinct in a huff, not in the mood to argue. He stepped out into the mid-afternoon sunshine and sighed. This was definitely not how he had wanted to spend the week. He and Jordan weren't even together; they may as well have just stayed in Boston. Nothing would have been different. Except…

A faint smile tugged at his lips. Except she would be there when he got back to the house. That was certainly an up-side.

She had left not long before he had that morning, wanting to go back to the body to do another check for anything she may have missed the day before. Perhaps she was already back? His day had been a bust, but maybe she had found something.

He stared up into the perfect sky, starting to get annoyed. It had taken him hours to track down someone from the now defunct law firm with no help at all from the other officers, and then at least two more hours wasted to get him into the station. Jeffery Hammond. He had been a head honcho back in the day, and Woody had been lucky to see that he was just a few miles outside of the small town. Yet it had all been for nothing.

Nigel!

Woody suddenly stopped short, digging quickly in his pocket for his phone to call Jordan. Of course! Nigel would be able to find out everything he hadn't been able to about this Jeffery fellow. Hope was not lost quite yet.