Soulless
Chapter Four: Be Careful What You Look For
Rating: PG-13 (I think)
Word Count: 1,642
Disclaimer: I own Crossing Jordan. Um, right. That was a lie. I don't own anything. Except my own insanity. I can't even claim to own DVDs for Crossing Jordan.
Summary: A serial killer takes a twisted interest in a certain detective.
Pairing: Woody/Jordan
Author's Note: While my previous fics were more humorous than dramatic or suspenseful, this isn't. It's a pretty big divergence from the others. And my life is unbearably busy, so I won't be able to update as often as I have in the past.

Again I have to apologize for the lateness of this update. I've been sick off and on for the past couple of months and fighting writer's block isn't easy when one is also fighting a cold. So... Here's more... I doubt it was worth the wait. :(

Be Careful What You Look For

Jordan was practically skipping through the halls on her way to Garret's office. Her last three autopsies were all perfectly explainable deaths and while that normally would have bothered her, but tonight she was looking forward to a quiet evening taking care of Woody and assuring him that they were more than friends. It wouldn't be romantic, but she didn't need romantic. She needed Woody. Nigel was right. It was too long for this dance to go on.

She opened the door and stopped. The sight of Woody sleeping peacefully—-one that had gotten her through the day—-was not what she found. He was gone. His gun wasn't. He was.

"Woody!" she called, running towards the front. Emmy looked up, startled. "Emmy, have you seen Woody?"

"Detective Hoyt? He left a few hours ago. He was pretty distracted."

"Damn it," Jordan cursed, loud enough to make people jump. Garret came out of autopsy and looked at her.

"Jordan, what are you doing?"

She opened her mouth to answer as the elevator doors admitted Renee Walcott. "Where is he?"

"Who?" Garret asked, coming up to Jordan.

"Don't give me that. Where is Detective Hoyt? He's been avoiding me for hours, and when he does that, he's usually here, pretending to chase down a lead," Walcott said angrily.

Garret looked at Jordan. She shook her head. "He's not here."

"What?" Garret and Renee demanded at the same time.

Jordan twisted her hands. "Woody's not here. He's not in your office, Garret. And he left behind his gun."

Garret sighed. "I should have cuffed him to the damn couch. He's in no state to be walking around, let alone drive."

"I still have his keys," Jordan offered, "but he told me specifically that he was getting one of those key hider thingys."

Garret cursed. Renee looked at them both. "So, Hoyt isn't here? Where would he go?"

"Probably to check on his apartment," Jordan offered. She didn't care if Woody got in trouble with Walcott. He deserved it for being so stupid and pushing himself so much.

Renee shook her head. "I just spoke to Roberts. He told me that only one thing was missing from Hoyt's apartment and it was valuable. Apparently, it's a random burglary and not tied to the harassment he's been getting for the case. Roberts also said he hadn't seen Hoyt, and I threatened him enough to know he wasn't covering for Hoyt."

"Harassment?" Jordan demanded. "What kind of harassment?"

"Jordan, you--"

"No, I've been a good girl and toed the line. Now Woody has disappeared, and I want to know what the hell is going on," she insisted. Garret looked at Renee. She nodded reluctantly.

"Woody has been getting heart shaped boxes stabbed with a kitchen knife. Three so far, one for each victim since Gerald Brown," Garret explained. "Two went to his desk at homicide and were contaminated before we got to them. The other was at the scene today. Nigel's still trying to narrow down who could have purchased it. It's a long list."

"But it isn't even February," Jordan protested. "Shouldn't a bulk order get noticed?"

"Apparently, these chocolates keep better than most," Garret muttered.

"Okay, so the threats have given us nothing," Renee concluded. "That still doesn't answer my question."

"Emmy," Jordan called again, "did Woody leave alone?"

Emmy nodded. "He was by himself."

Jordan wanted to be relieved by this, but she wasn't. The elevators opened again. A messenger with a box went to Emmy, who pointed him to Jordan. Jordan signed off and ripped it open to Walcott's dismay.

"Oh, no," she whispered, running for the stairs. She kept running until she reached the parking level. Out of breath and unable to stop her mantra of no, no, no, she realized she was in shock. She felt a hand on her shoulder and knew it was Garret.

"Jordan--"

"Garret, we have two days to find him."

"You can't know that, Jordan."

"Yes, I do, Garret," she insisted, opening the hand that had been clasped around a square box. She had destroyed evidence by crumpling the note, but she hadn't wanted to believe it. She hadn't thought... Woody wouldn't have kept that ring... But he had, he had kept it, and now she was holding it in her hand. The ring was what was missing from Woody's apartment. The killer had taken it. Somehow, the killer had gotten close enough to realize who this was meant for... Maybe they could have taken it just to hurt him, but... They had to know Woody somehow... Had to have found out about him from someone, maybe even Woody himself.

You should have taken this when you had the chance.

The worst part of it was that Jordan knew they were right.

"I'd say he was here," Nigel said, crouched next to the wheel rim of Woody's car, doing his best to pretend that the car belonged to someone else, someone he didn't know. "His hand was under the wheel, but he fell forward and the assailant missed him. Judging from this indentation, it was a metal object, probably the tire iron our killer favours, We may even get something from it, since we knew he doesn't clean it between victims."

Macy nodded, listening intently. Nigel pointed to more evidence. "The second time, the attacker didn't miss. Salivia here, probably from Woody... He backed around the car, using it for support. Looks like hew was on his feet for a bit, then... he fell back on whatever car was parked here--"

"The killers?" Macy interrupted.

Nigel nodded. "I'd assume so. No one else would just drive away after their window was broken. I'll analyze the glass, see if I can narrow down the manufacturer. He ducked the one that shattered the window, but he did go down. Blood on the ground is his, probably cut himself trying to get up again."

"But he didn't make it back up?"

Nigel shook his head. "No. We've got drag marks and a path through the glass... The killer stashed him in the trunk and drove off. Buy went to get the security tape, but judging from the angle of these camera, they missed the altercation."

"Maybe we'll get lucky," Macy said without much hope. They all knew that this bastard was good. He hadn't made any mistakes yet. "Just get me you can, Nigel."

"I will, Dr. M," Nigel promised, collecting his samples. "Uh...how is Jordan?"

Macy stopped. "She's in shock. Pretty bad. She's not even fighting to be a part of the investigation. Renee's with her. She called Lily, who's coming in."

"We've got to get this bastard," Nigel said, looking down at the broken glass.

"We will."

"In time?"

Macy didn't answer. Instead, he looked at Woody's car and the empty space next to it. "Any chance this was a woman?"

Nigel blinked. "Come again?"

"Something Woody said. Admittedly, he was out of it, but he referred to the killer as a 'she.'"

Nigel looked at the ground again. "Maybe... Just maybe..."

Consciousness was a funny thing.

In his case, a not particularly pleasant or amusing sort of funny. He felt like he'd gone through several wringers while hungover and drunk at the same time. He felt like he was dying, but he knew that his death awaited him at the end of a cheap knife, not his injuries or whatever drugs she'd given him or even his guilt.

In his defense, he'd never meant to betray Jordan. The Psycho Bitch already knew that he was involved with Jordan. She'd stalked him for the past two weeks, and he'd never noticed a damn thing. She knew his habits, and it had only taken a little bit of narcotic persuasion to get the whole story from him.

The she told him what she intended to do with the ring, leaving him screaming in protest, futilely pulling on the cuffs that chained his hands above his head. He'd passed out after a while, a mixed blessing.

He saw light coming in through the window. That meant daylight. Daylight meant he had a day left to live. A day that the Psycho Bitch would spend taunting Jordan and everyone at the morgue...

Somehow, it didn't matter that he would die. Granted, he wasn't looking forward to it, but he only seemed to care about what it would do to Jordan. Jordan, I am so sorry, so incredibly sorry.

"Pity for your pretty girlfriend, Detective?" the psycho was back, holding a glass of wine and balancing in precarious heels again.

"You're celebrating early," he observed. "I have a day left."

"Oh, and who said I would stick to my modus operandi with you, Detective?" she asked snidely.

He swallowed hard. He hadn't expected this. He knew hew had a day to live, but as far as deaths went, a knife to the heart was a quick, relatively painless death. Not like what she was now promising. Somehow, he didn't think she was here to kill him. Hurt him. Torture him. Mock him. But not kill him. Not yet.

"Why am I different?" he asked. "Why not just kill me like all the others?"

She handed him the wine. "Drink."

He shook his head. He wasn't going along with whatever sick game she wanted to play this time. She grabbed his hair and smacked his head into the pipe. His mouth opened involuntarily, and she poured the wine in, letting it overflow and dribble down his chin. He choked on it, swallowing against his will.

His head grew fuzzy. He felt sick again. He didn't know what she'd given him. He didn't want to know. His eyes blurred, heavy with a fatigue he hadn't felt a minute ago. A sedative, maybe worse...

"Why?" he whispered again as it all went black.