“All right, Doc,” Jordan said. “You get the tissue sample, then I’ll take over.”
“Right.”
Biopsy time.
Jordan wheeled Albert into the autopsy suite, over to one of the freestanding sinks. Albert was thin and light, and Jordan had no trouble transferring him to a rolling stainless steel cart, but did not bother moving him to an exam table. He’d be going back to his storage unit soon enough.
Julie scoured the supplies for the needed equipment. She gathered her materials expeditiously and carefully laid the instruments on the steel exam table next to the sink. Jordan inventoried the items: forceps, scalpel, tissue hook, needle holder (a long scissors-like implement good for suturing, with a locking mechanism at the base to hold a needle and thread), specimen bottle, gauze, and a suture. No risk of infection and no pain meant no need for lidocaine or any sterilization. However, they both wore surgical gloves, and had them on from the start so they would leave no fingerprints behind.
Holding the scalpel like a pencil, Julie made an incision in the abdomen using a number ten blade, with Jordan pulling on the skin to provide counter traction. Julie’s incision went completely through the dermis and sank deep enough to see subcutaneous fat. Her technique and steady hand impressed Jordan. In two cuts she had exposed subcutaneous tissue and had done so using care worthy of the living. The cut went deep enough for Jordan to see Albert’s liver. He knew this was a good choice for the sample. If a toxin were involved, it would still be present in the liver. The tissue could also be tested for the presence of an allergen.
Julie took a large sample of liver tissue using the forceps and scissors and then carefully placed the sample inside the specimen jar. Then she sutured the wound closed.
“It should be enough,” she said. “But I think I’ll take some more tissue from the airway just to be sure.”
“I know Albert won’t mind, but let me check the hallway, make sure we’re still in the clear,” Jordan said.
At that moment, the door to the autopsy area swung open with force and a burly security guard, gun already drawn, burst into the room. He aimed his weapon at Jordan and in a commanding voice yelled, “Get down on the floor!”
Jordan held his ground even though the guard pointed his weapon at Jordan’s head. Julie came out from behind the autopsy table, her hands up to show she was not a threat, and approached with caution. The guard swiveled and trained his weapon away from Jordan and onto Julie.
“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m a doctor here,” Julie said, holding up Allyson’s badge as proof. The picture on the badge of course would not match the woman holding it, but Jordan thought the quick flash was convincing enough. Julie spoke with the authority of a physician and the security guard should have backed down. The gun, to his surprise, did not lower even an inch. Why? It was inconceivable the guard knew all the doctors working here. He should have been embarrassed, should have acted contrite, and then he should have gone away.
“I’m here with my assistant finishing up some important work,” Julie said. Her voice carried a little uneasiness.
The guard’s arm stayed rigid like steel, and the gun did not waver in his steady hand. He seemed to ponder his next move. Jordan’s heart began to hammer away. Prison was not someplace he wished to return anytime soon. The guard cleared his throat.
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said.
“Excuse me?” Julie looked confused.
“I’ll clarify,” the guard said, with a twisted smile. “I don’t think you work here, Dr. Devereux.”
Julie stammered, “How… how do you know my name?”
The guard closed in on Julie with startling quickness. He aimed the gun at her but did not pull the trigger. Something about him seemed hesitant.
“This isn’t easy,” he said.
What isn’t easy? Jordan stood frozen.
“I know so much about you,” the guard said.
The statement was directed at Julie, and Jordan did not know what he meant.
“And about your son, Trevor, and your ex, Paul, and your poor dead fiancé. I know you sing in the shower and I like you best in your black bra and matching underwear. It’s a good look for you.”
“You,” Julie said, her voice quavering as realization came to her. “It was you at the river, wasn’t it?”
Jordan remembered that story.
The guard returned a nonchalant shrug. “Yeah, and it was me in Sherri’s home before you got there,” he said. “And it’s me here now. Actually, I would have been here sooner, but my new boss is quite the chatterbox. Damn. I thought it might be easier a second time, but I think I was wrong.”
“What do you want?”
The guard took in a breath and aimed his gun a bit higher.
“Look, I’m really sorry,” he said.
Julie was shaking. Jordan snapped out of his daze enough to notice two guns stashed in the back pocket of the guard’s uniform. Two guns. Quickly, Jordan understood. This man was here to kill them. He would shoot them both and then plant guns to justify the killing as self-defense. They were intruders, after all. Somehow the guard had known they would be down in the autopsy room at this hour. Had Allyson betrayed them? Was it a setup from the get-go?
With a slight turn of his head, Jordan saw a metal bowl on the exam table within his reach. Jordan lunged for it, and with one hand, slid the bowl off the table as he fell to the floor. Then, with a flick of the wrist, he flung the bowl Frisbee-like at the guard’s head.
The guard must have caught a blur of motion in his peripheral vision. He ducked an instant before the steel would have connected with his temple. The bowl sailed past him and clattered noisily onto the floor. The guard spun from the waist and aimed his gun at Jordan. He got off a shot that splintered the concrete near Jordan’s leg.
Jordan rolled twice, and two more shots fired.
CHAPTER 46
The moment the guard burst into the autopsy area, the carjacking incident came into sharp focus. Julie’s immediate instinct was to grab something for self-defense. The closest thing to her was the scalpel, which she stashed in the pocket of her lab coat. While Julie’s heart shook with fear, her mind stayed sharp as she gave the guard what sounded like a plausible explanation.
“I’m a doctor… I work here… this is my assistant…”
A flash of the official Suburban West badge should have been enough to send him away. But this was no ordinary security guard. He was here on a mission. When he pointed the gun at her, Julie thought she saw murder in his eyes. Julie’s mind reeled with unanswered questions. How did he know those details about her life? How did he know they would be in the autopsy suite?
The answers would have to wait. The bowl Jordan tossed might not have found a target, but it created enough of a distraction for Julie to get the scalpel into her hand. As the guard fired his gun at Jordan, Julie raised her arm and brought it down in a sweeping arc. The scalpel’s steel blade penetrated the guard’s muscled shoulder to the handle and pushed deep enough into flesh to stick upright even after she let go. The guard howled in rage.
A look of pure terror stretched across Julie’s face. She whirled in the direction of the morgue and took off running.
BITCH, STABBED me.
Lincoln Cole was seething. The reservations he had about committing two more murders were gone now. It had not occurred to him that Julie might have armed herself. The oversight was almost unforgivable. This whole episode was supposed to be a simple two-shot deal, followed by a frantic phone call to his supervisor to report the incident. Helluva first day you had, son. Lincoln had met the head of security, Bert Stone, an hour before the start of his first shift. He did not know the old-timer at all, but imagined it was something his new boss might say.