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“Listen, I don’t see how this would work,” Jordan reasoned. “I’d love to help. Really, I do. What he needs is a cop. FBI. Or Secret Service. CIA. Anything indicating protector of law and justice.”

Roger pressed his back on the couch while his hand gently rocked the crystal glass in his hand. Nick has gone back home earlier, claiming he’d have an early day the next day as he was flying off to Florida for Christmas. They were hanging out at the lounge after dinner when he decided to break the news to her. Unfortunately, Jordan didn’t take the news too well. He gave out a sigh. “You’re technically a cop too, right?”

Jordan rolled her eyes. Kate clicked her tongue sympathetically. “I told you it won’t work, sweetie. You can’t exactly pull LJ out of her life and place her in the middle of nowhere,” explained Kate.

Jordan nodded solemnly. “I deal with dead people, Dumpster. Not live ones.”

Roger chuckled. “This kid might as well be dead too if you don’t agree to this,” he replied bitterly.

Jordan sighed. “Touch wood.” She looked over at Kate for support. Kate managed a tight smile in return. “I’m not a professional in this area. Look, I know a few folks who work as private investigators, and some of them were ex-agents…”

“J, we’d have access to them if we wanted to. But the deal is, we want somebody familiar, somebody we could call family. Somebody we could actually trust. You think I haven’t given all these a thought before?” Roger butted in, obviously the day has gotten to him. He ran a hand through the sandy blond locks. Kate patted his chest lightly to remind him to chill down. “Sorry, J. Didn’t mean to scorch down on you like that.”

Jordan flashed a tired smile. “Don’t worry about it. I understand your overprotective nature over your friends. I’ve been there before, remember?”

Roger gave out a small laugh.

Kate sat up straight, trying to make better of the situation. “Jordan, I know it’s an impossible request. But I hope you would give it a few days’ thought and perhaps you can think it through. You have well till New Year, plenty of time, right?” she prodded on gently.

Jordan fell silent. It’s hard to straight out disappoint your friends. The least she could do was giving it a thought. She nodded slowly, and felt a surge of relief as Roger and Kate exchanged happy glances.

***

Kate turned down the comforter and climbed into bed. She watched as Roger silently close the bathroom door behind him. He looked well deep in thoughts; the wrinkles on his forehead gave it away. Kate sighed. “Ya know, you can’t exactly blame her if she turns this down,” she reminded him gently. “She is a good friend, but asking her to jeopardize her career is like asking too much, don’t you think?”

Roger heaved slowly onto the bed and kicked off his bedroom slippers. “I’m well aware of that,” he answered curtly.

“She’s one of the best CSI forensics in the country. And she’s working her ass off on a research to win a sponsorship. If she quits now, you know it’s impossible for her to make a comeback,” Kate continued.

Roger nodded solemnly, all the while giving his back to her. He knew the odds that Jordan was going to reject this agreement was almost close to a 100%, but he couldn’t help but let the false hope bloomed in his mind.

“You always want things your way, don’t you?”

And he couldn’t help nodding at that too.

***

“I met my date to Cannes on Christmas eve.”

“You mean, LJ? She’s seriously here?” AJ inquired, sitting up straighter on the lounge chair. The guys had celebrated Christmas with their respective families and hadn’t been in touch with each other. It’s New Year’s Eve and all of them are back in town, with AJ dropping by Nick’s crib to hang out.

Nick nodded. “Yeah. Remember Roger invited me to dinner?” He flipped the meat patty on the BBQ drill expertly before continuing. “She’s going to be here until New Year.”

“Cool, cool. So this LJ, did she try to jump your pants?” asked AJ, grinning goofily.

Nick laughed. “I guess I was trying to jump her pants,” he answered truthfully.

“Whoa. Details, dude. Details,” AJ demanded. He shifted on the lounge chair in order for a better excess on Nick’s face. He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Been a long time since I heard this one.”

Nick’s laughter faded into a grin. Yeah, that he agreed. Been a long time since he paid any attention to women after Paris left him high and dry for the male version of her namesake. Nick chuckled for good measures, trying to remember the Christmas’ eve’s dinner. “She’s your typical doctor; brainy, eloquent, able to hold a conversation outside the topic of nails and dresses.”

“Yeah, that I get. Nice to know all that Princeton education didn’t go to waste,” added AJ. “So, a good head on the shoulder. Come on, I know you’re more superficial than that, Kaos.”

Nick rolled his eyes, but nevertheless he chuckled at how true AJ’s insinuation was. “She’s one of the best CSI forensic surgeons in the country, dude. Tho she modestly declined such commendation, you could see through her vibrant smile how brilliant she really is,” he continued, lifting the now-done meat patties onto a plate. “I’ve never had a more intellectual conversation with any other women before,” he concluded.

AJ raised an eyebrow, perplexed. “And that excites you because?”

“Come on, AJ. How many women do you know dissect human guts and thread intestines for a living?” Nick shot back.

AJ tilted his head to the side, pushing his orange sunshades up onto his head. “You’ve got a point there. Funny, but I could see how you could get turned on by all of these,” AJ replied, grinning mischievously. “Such a high achiever that one. Are you sure she’d be willing to accompany your silly ass to Cannes?”

“Double ha and a half,” Nick retorted. “Come on, I ain’t finished yet!”

“You mean, she’s got more than a 3-digit IQ?”

“Yeah. She’s pretty tall, almost up to my shoulder. Giselle look-alike but more generous with her smile, you got what I’m saying? Has a Filipino bloodline. She also teaches Judo in her free time. Oh, did I mention she’s a sharp shooter too?”

AJ’s lower jaw was literally hanging.

Nick laughed. He motioned to AJ to close his mouth. “Come on, let’s go in and eat.”

“Ehm, are you still up on swapping dates?”

***

Jordan threw the front door to her loft open and shut it behind her with a thud. It was a long flight, and she had to leave for the hospital in less than 2 hours. Who the hell works on New Year’s Eve, man? Not cool…

“D!” she hollered across the empty loft.

“In here!” came the muffled reply of her roommate, Diana. Jordan made her way to the kitchen, stopping by her make-shift room to leave her duffel by the door. She heard a kid’s gurgling sound followed by laughter. Jordan’s face instantly lit up.

“You’re back early,” Diana acknowledged with a sideway glance. She was busy feeding the toddler in front of her, or at least what looked like she was trying to.

Jordan sighed as she plopped down at one of the wooden stools lining the island counter. “Yeah. This time I don’t mind the party, man. I think I have enough of SAW 3 for awhile. Gimme a break,” she gagged and rested her chin on the counter. “Tina’s working?” she continued, while making funny faces to the child.

Diana nodded. “Yeah. She can’t take the New Year off. She dropped Dylan off a little while ago. I’m cool til evening, after that he’s yours,” Diana explained, giving her an apologetic smile.

“No prob. I’ll wrap up real quick. Be back around 6, I guess.” She heaved herself off the stool and went around the counter towards baby Dylan’s chair. She ruffled the blonde locks gently and took the spoon offered by Diana. “Eat for mama, Dylan,” she cooed.

“You’re not seriously going downtown today, are you? You just got back,” Diana exclaimed, stating the obvious. She shook her head, astonished. “Gionivanni can go screw his mistress’ ass. All the government’s money and New York could only manage one pathologist? That seriously makes you wonder where the hell our tax money goes to” she retorted.

Jordan laughed while making a vain attempt to cover Dylan’s delicate ears. “D, we’re in the presence of an underage. Let’s not make a rerun of Meet the Parents, shall we? You’d give Tina a heart attack if her child’s first attempt at speaking is flourished by vulgar words.”

Diana grinned. She cooed at Dylan who was obviously confused with Jordan’s hands covering her ears. “So, was LA fun?” she inquired. “Did you hook up with anybody?”

Jordan shrugged. “It was fine. Funny tho that I had to drag the winter jacket around and shed it off in the airport. The weather was awesome.”

“And were you deliberately ignoring the second half of the question?” Diana inquired again, this time paying full attention to Jordan’s face.

“Eh, I kinda did. Technically,” Jordan answered curtly, grinning for full measure.

“Technically?”

“Uh-huh.” Another spoon of Gerber disappeared into Dylan’s mouth. “I have a date to Cannes next month, actually,” she explained, all the while crossing her eyes for Dylan’s benefit. The toddler burst out laughing.

Diana wrinkled her forehead. “Cannes. Movie Festival Cannes? French Cannes?”

Jordan nodded. “Yes and yes.”

“No shit. What the hell did you do to get invited? Hump the ticket puncher?” exclaimed Diana, thoroughly shocked.

Jordan cringed. Her hands quickly flew to cover Dylan’s ears again. “Diana Keane!”

Diana grinned sheepishly. She tilted her head to the side and rested her arm on Jordan’s shoulder. “The Annual Meeting of Nerdy Pathologists, I understand. The Medical Festivals of Geeky Scientists and Cover-Your-Mouth-While-You-Stifle-A-Yawn Convention, I understand. But Cannes? J? Have you been doing anything I have to bail you out from?”

Jordan laughed. Dylan followed suit seeing the happiness radiating in the room. Both women took a look at the charming baby boy, and burst out laughing too.

While the laughter subsided, Diana elbowed Jordan gently, prodding the woman to continue. “Spill. I’m the one with the pigeon hall key and I didn’t see any single invitation to France in the nearest future, sonny.”

“Yeah. So? But my date’s invited. What’s the big deal?” Jordan responded.

“Did you fly off to LA to secure a date with Steven Spielberg? You’re not actually ditching the career of us normal people to be with those big-haired with even bigger egos celebrities, are you?”

Jordan rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding me?”

“Did Roger dump Kate or something?”

“Oh, God. No,” Jordan replied, stressing on ‘no’.

“Come on, you’re too brainy to be playing something shallow like 20 questions, J.”

“Ha ha,” Jordan snorted. She wiped a small cereal spot near Dylan’s lip with her thumb. “Roger requested as a favor for his protégé.”

“Protégé?” Diana whistled. “What big word. Since when did Roger take up a job in ‘The Apprentice’?”

Jordan laughed. “Come on, you know what I meant!”

“One of his pimps, you mean. Who?”

Jordan smirked.

“Oh my.” Diana wrinkled her nose. “You are such a teenybopper.”

“Yeah? That was your CD in the folder. And I’m the teenybopper??” Jordan asked incredulously.

Diana laughed. Baby Dylan snorted out his Gerber in an attempt to laugh with his mommy. “Stop pulling my leg, yo! The Backstreet Boys?”

Jordan sighed as she tried yet again to wipe the cereal off Dylan. Thanks Heavens for bibs. “I’m not pulling yo leg, ma. You’re the one sending me to the airport next month,” she commented, grinning goofily.

Diana fell silent. She critically eyed her roommate, detecting any signs of incoming outburst of laughter. Jordan responded with a small smile, all the while cooing at Dylan. “Leila Jordan, you’re freaking serious, aren’t you?” she asked finally.

“Uh huh,” Jordan merely nodded. “Such a good kid you are, Dylan. See, he finished the whole bottle!” she marveled, settling the bowl on the counter in order to pick Dylan up.

“I thought all of them are married, or attached, or whatever.”

Jordan shrugged. “Apparently one of them is not.”

Realization hit Diana hard on the head. Her mocha-colored eyes enlarged as no words came to mind. “You lucky, lucky bitch!”

“Diana!”

Laughter erupted again.

***

Lordy…
Jordan pulled off her reading glasses and worked on to massage her temple. All the photos and slides in her laptop look like a blob of blurry images. 3 killings, all homicides are related with similar laparatomy cut on the abdomen, precise with the same length, using the same apparatus. In all cases, it was revealed that victims lost either an organ, or part of the intestine.

3 murders in 2 months. That can’t be good.

Dude, your methods are executed by the book. Why can’t you put it into good cause and become one of us underpaid pathologists?

Maybe she’s quick to conclude that all 3 homicides share the same murderer. Maybe she’s giving the psycho too much credit. But at this point, as CSI and NYPD are hot on her ass, she can’t draw any other conclusions with such limited evidence.
Her cellphone gave a rang and she instinctively reached out for it, afraid that the shrill ringing would wake Dylan up. Private number. She arched an eyebrow questioningly. Nevertheless, she flipped the phone open. “Wakefield.”

“LJ? It’s Nick.”

Jordan was aware of her lips twitching into a smile. “Nick. To what do I owe the call?” she asked pleasantly, grateful for the distraction.

“Just to wish you Happy New Year. I didn’t know you’re back in New York.”

Jordan’s foot pushed slightly on the floor and her sliding chair rocked gently backward. Leaning into the cushion, she lifted her legs up onto the table, trying to relax her aching muscles. “Yeah. Didn’t you hear NYPD is sporting a cheapskate campaign and refuse to waste on extra human assist?”

Nick laughed. “Ouch. Don’t tell me you’re working tonight? That seriously sucks.”

Jordan rolled her eyes. “You’re telling me. Try living it.”

“I feel for you. So, does that mean no party tonight?”

“Are you kidding? I’m even babysitting tonight,” Jordan replied good-naturedly, before regretting exposing such dorky and pathetic details of her life.

“What the heck did you do to deserve such a penalty?” Nick asked teasingly.

Jordan laughed. “Nothing short of cutting up a few corpses and taking out a few organs for inspection.”

“What a way to make a guy feel entertained, LJ,” Nick replied, chuckling.

“I know, I know. My head is full with crime photos and I don’t know how to stir up a proper small talk,” Jordan replied. “I regret passing up Roger’s party. This is sure a jacked-up way to begin the new year.”

“Yeah, Roger’s been buzzing about it all morning. The guys are also disappointed they didn’t get the chance to see you.”

Tho her logics told her that Nick’s comment was one way of being polite, Jordan still felt herself grinning giddily. “Likewise here.”

“Listen, I’d like to thank you for being cool about Cannes.”

“How could I pass it up when my best friend, the most persuasive guy in the industry and one-fifth of the biggest-selling group proposed me about it?” Jordan joked, as Nick chuckled. “Besides, it’s a free trip to Europe, I’m not complaining. Tho I’m not really so hot on the prospect on being hated by half of female population as the after-effect.”

Nick laughed again. “You know that’s not true.”

“Yeah? That’s like saying George Bush is not a destroyer,” Jordan quoted.

“Even so, I’m sure they can’t find anything to hate once they get to know you. You never know the wonders of Internet in this industry.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better, Nick?”

“Or maybe you want to get some coffee together and we practice throwing darts at the paparazzi?”

“You know, coffee sounds wonderful. Let’s.”

As if on cue, the home cordless phone started blinking, signaling an incoming call. Jordan raised an eyebrow, intrigued as to who would actually be calling on New Year’s Eve. “Sorry Nick, my house phone is blinking. I should take the call,” she apologized, regretting the end of their conversation.

“No problem. Happy New Year, Leila.”

As she pushed the ‘end’ button on her cellphone, wishing wistfully the cordless didn’t start blinking, she reached for it, which was lying on the nearby sofa. “Wakefield and Keane.”

“It’s me. Listen, Tina was down in a shoot out. I’m heading to Memorial now,” came Diana’s brisk voice. She could hear the sound of Manhattan’s night traffic in the background.

Jordan gasped. She sat up straighter in her seat, obviously shocked by the incoming news. “What’s her condition?”

“I don’t know. One of the paramedics gave me a call as they saw my number in Tina’s phone book.” Diana paused. Then she cursed. “What’s a girl to do to hail down a cab in New York?!”

“Where are you?” Jordan inquired, vaguely remembering if Diana mentioned anything at all about the location of the New Year Party. She started pacing around her make-shift office, collecting her wallet and car keys from the drawer and made her way out towards the baby’s crib in the middle of the room. Baby Dylan was sleeping soundly, oblivious to the world.

“I’m at Lexington. Dude, I reckon I’d make it faster if I jog, with the New Year traffic and all,” remarked Diana wryly.

Jordan cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder, and reached inside the cot to gather Dylan into her arm. The infant stirred lightly, but as he settled comfortably into Jordan’s embrace, he dozed off back to sleep. “Alright then, jog til 59th. Should be only two blocks away from where you are. I’ll pick you up then,” said Jordan. She grabbed the baby’s rattan basket and headed for the main door.

“How about Dylan?”

Jordan looked down on the baby nestled warmly in her arms. “He’s with me,” she said lightly, feeling overprotective over the child. As they descended together in the loft’s elevator, crackling sound tickled her eardrums and she realized that she left home with the cordless still balanced between her ear and her shoulder. “Diana?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope Tina’s alright.”